Long Singsong Poems
Long Singsong Poems. Below are the most popular long Singsong by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Singsong poems by poem length and keyword.
“The reason birds can fly and we can't is simply because they have perfect faith, for to have faith is to have wings.”
- J.M. Barrie, The Little White Bird
Robins, wrens, sparrows,
quivering, yet silent, still
on limbs and branches, boughs,
heavy with rustling leaves,
their feathers brilliantly flaunted,
in cloaks of crimson, indigo and lemony yellow,
creating music with arms, soft wings
singing to the shattered trees,
in altos, sopranos and gentle tenors,
laughing, chattering, chortling,
teaching the skies their cozy songs…
wrestling with the crisp of winter,
hesitating on the melody,
alive… more alive than the breathless winds,
shivering through the oaks and pines,
washing away all the sun’s spun wishes,
singing light on the ridges,
murmuring joy and peace and love,
in angelic voices, lifted in praise,
silencing the grief, the pain, the heartbreaking
in the distance,
the heart breaking, like a whisper…
birdsong, bird’s song,
alive and warm, in tones of hope,
poured out like the sun,
gentle and fond,
adoring, worshipful,
rising to the skies, tender
falling over the promises, the fanciful
reflections of a love,
who is peaceful like the dove,
bird’s reassuring, in hues, all colors,
rising and susurrant,…
praising, praying, promising
forever spun on gold threads of light,
softly falling on shadows,
restoring the life, resurrecting
insights, inspiring, imaginations,
alive… so alive, the bird’s sing
and, while the night, so silent,
presses in on the soul,…
we are remembering the call of hope,
peaceful and praising, every praising,
like the wind through the trees,
the singsong breeze,
each bird trembles with the need,
to please, simply please,
singing to the One who erases the dark,
fills the heart and silences the shame,
as the heart continues to pray,
and praise, oh, how they praise,
singing like the love who stirs life,
inside each story,
inspires love that is ever worthy.
Angel’s songbirds awoke and flung the deal
Anisette chirps, sounds of reels
On that day my soul grew lyric
My heart couldn’t see it
Angels songbirds sing with me
And the harmonies never waiting
The sound singer souls singing
The song craft smiled
Ah, distinctly I was lullabying
And the hand claps never hymning yet rhyming
Death shall bring bass riffs
The sonic songwriting singsong smiths
Angels songbirds sing with me
I crave the lyrical, lyric leaf
From off my chest, my breath
Expressivity - expressivity - expressivity!
Somewhat louder than my debrief
I am shore of my golden voiced leaf
you warned me about the high relief
I crave the song-like, songful soundtrack
I feel my spirit leaving my back
Angels songbirds sing with me
That moment my soul grew analytic
The musical smiled
To warn me about the vibrato
And so you came gently jingling
Of duets that are bungling
Chirping metals yawn iron robins
My passion is the cuckoo lullaby, laugh angel laugh
Once I sat engaged and dancing, fly angel fly
Angels songbirds sing with me
When I thought of the song, sing angel sing
Deep into that darkness scoring, fly angel fly
In a kingdom full of shields, shield angel shield
On that day my soul grew lyric, fly angel fly
I awoke and flung the tenorist, high up to the skies
Much I marveled this overload alto, high angel high
Much I marveled the atonal hymn, sing angel sing
I have dreamed of the tempos, Hallelujah
Angels songbirds sing with me
Deep into that darkness interviewing, Hallelujah
That moment my soul grew singable, come sing with me
overloud alto, high angel high
Marveled the atonal hymn praises above all men, sing angel sing
Angels songbirds sing with me
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
10/29/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2019©
You make me feel so much –
Joy, thankfulness, courage
You whisper hope into my spirit
Remind me that affection is a quiet wonder
Like a dream coloring my life
In grace and kindness, reflecting
Serenity, a smile…
Poured out over the silence
Screaming light through
My most intimate embrace,
A kiss – sweet and passionate,
Starlight shimmering into darkness,
Parting the wistful night –
A lesson of laughter’s
Singsong voice, telling
The moon to guide each
Feeling through the shadows
Into the winsome autumn
Leaves, vibrant and bold
Healing summertime and old
Moments, praying for wisdom
To know love’s sigh, breathless
Abiding in the trembling
Echo of a touch, the magic moves
Me so much!
You make me feel such deep –
Love
Alternately titled: Get out of my head mister chatterbox!
While inside me noggin legions
of monstrous demons abhor
protest being force fed
arcane and obscure
assaying into religious dogma
hence mind chatter goes full bore
thus crafting poem quite a difficult chore,
one lightweight bag of bones
basketcase weave gotta deplore,
nevertheless mine tincup rattled
courtesy garden variety eyesore
athwart slip stream
of space/time continuum
twenty two minus
seven years and fourscore
orbitz around black hole sun
scattering cremains galore
camouflage ashes colored like hoar.
Upon prima facie first blush
me mind's eye all atwitter,
sans long forgotten
"FAKE" sexual exploits
set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter,
boot like short order cook I hapt tubby
quickly realized trumpeting collusion,
a near fatal collision course
with Matthew Scott's antimatter
caw zing friggin insomnia
finding ma noggin scrambled
likesome lithesome cockamamie critter
whipped into frenzy
like battered butter
holy grits, alm manned in fight of ma life
cause I haint acquitter
baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling
hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter,
this raging red bull inside me mind,
now body wheeling wickety wack,
lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter
bitta asthma - insides
got balled into wah racket
like quietly rioting unfetter
herd plain tennis (see) hens,
gone south tub bespatter
ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky
reducing gray matter,
and all flesh sundered
into meaty platter
to pulverized, irradiated,
cremated... faux fluffernutter batter
analogous tummy Aunt
Jemima's famous flapjacks,
she fantastically fashioned better
than Betty Crocker
tossing spatulated glommed
gook suitable as bonesetter
high as the Taj Mahal,
while she merrily jabbered,
her native patois singsong blatter
all this inaudible clatter
muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter
madly clangorous dinner cowbells
aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter
ring jitterbugging fantasies
of barenaked ladies doth splutter
as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry
like cocky rooster that did stutter!
The trees drift with your smile
As I stare and think
What a beautiful bond
That we graciously link
As the wind whispers your name
In and out of my town
As I picture you by my side
I stand proud in that white gown
“Stephen,” it says,
“Where have you gone?
Where are you to finish
Sheryl’s unique song?”
“Why did you leave?
Are you coming home?
Sheryl’s lost deep within
Her mixed-up zone.”
But no sign of you
No matter where I look
I used to open and read you
Like a never-ending book
I used to see your face
As I melt shyly down
I used to hear your voice
In your own singsong sound
I used to feel your skin
As close as can be
It used to be so clear
And now I can’t even see
You’ve been gone too long
And now I have to mend my heart
In my wildest imaginative dreams
I never thought we’d be apart
Your loss hits my world like a ton of bricks
I constantly repeat our time we spent
Because I know deep inside
You were nothing but Heavenly sent
I wander in circles
Trying to cope
I repeat questions and answers
Deep within my throat
I cry moon filled dreams
That will never come true
But no matter what I say
I will not stop loving you
Because words can’t describe
All these emotions for you
All I know is this simple fact
That they are 100% true
How romantic, the fall, so far above the pleading waves.
The heights, the depth, to look the deep in eye and weep.
Air space between the lovers’ arc and shallow graves.
The tangible singsong of wedding bells and tragic leap.
Imagine it, the harp-like spray, the call of gulls, the fangs
that scared it up - the fade of white, of pearls and lace.
The cleft, the crags, the foaming ebb and flow, the overhangs,
the rage and misery one cursèd night, of love’s erase.
Romantic and tragic body of sea, a bride set free.
for she’d not live eternity of blood, thus spills her own.
He has no heart, but tears. Before his fate - a honeybee.
The heaviness of weight, the sea frothing with moans.
The scene has wings that fly and dive and sweetly catch
the widower’s debris. Invisible, the flight of ghostly light.
From precipice, how many tears do claw and scratch…
Hell laughs, but jealous witch wished bride to be first bite.
Poetry, You are Illumination!
Not the point of descent
but the ascending apex of
God's triangles – you come to
me, a bride...after the dutiful converse,
you come to me, dear wondrous composition~
wearing your verbal gown of transparent
white:
Why do I write? And why breathe, make
love? The in and out of creation somehow
such death and resurrection becomes us
both, the draw of life despite the often
editing crosses –
We are best when up against the wall...
that writer's block, that impasse, that
paralysis!~ poetry my sledge and saw,
the reason for eyes and hands, power
to transcend vision into new horizons
however they defame you, my lyrical
rib: abuse you with singsong cords
and hackneyed personifications, even
the erudite who only basically attend
to me you are nearer perfection...
Always, a divine lover and friend!
Get out of my head mister chatterbox!
Ransacking treasure trove
of maximum headroom.
To remedy a fate worse than death
or orange hair oaf becoming
forty seventh president
or contracting one
of several viral diseases named pox
permeate heavy shut tight door
with numerous deadbolts
and sophisticated locks
and impossible mission to out fox
analogous to roach infestation,
who favor nesting within custom made
Roper men's shoes brand name Docks.
Upon prima facie first blush
me mind's eye all atwitter,
sans long forgotten
"FAKE" sexual exploits
set mum (chrysos anthem) all aglitter,
boot like short order cook I hapt tubby
quickly realized trumpeting collusion,
a near fatal collision course
with Das scribe's antimatter
caw zing friggin insomnia
finding ma noggin scrambled
likesome lithesome cockamamie critter
whipped into frenzy
like battered butter
holy grits, alm manned
in fight of ma life
cause I haint acquitter
baa (jaw edge), ah woe cup feeling
hedged hog extremely bushed 'n bitter,
this raging red bull inside me mind,
now body wheeling wickety wack,
lichen to moss elf gut seasonal litter
bitta asthma - insides
got balled into wah racket
like quietly rioting unfetter
herd plain tennis (see) hens,
gone south tub bespatter
ear rilly jawboning jabberwocky
reducing gray matter,
and all flesh sundered
into meaty platter
to pulverized, irradiated,
cremated... faux fluffernutter batter
analogous tummy Aunt
Jemima's famous flapjacks,
she fantastically fashioned better
than Betty Crocker
tossing spatulated glommed
gook suitable as bonesetter
high as the Taj Mahal,
while she merrily jabbered,
her native patois singsong blatter
all this inaudible clatter
muffled 10,000 maniacs mad as a hatter
madly clangorous dinner cowbells
aroused bacchanalian sybaritic skitter
ring jitterbugging fantasies
of barenaked ladies doth splutter
as bedraggled, frazzled, grizzled...poetry
like cocky rooster that did stutter!
In the ripened wheat field, they safely gather together,
those poetic birds of a feather where peace now exists
No nimbus clouds overhead, threatening stormy weather
and no more blustery thunder roaring in bigoted trysts
It's now a pleasant oasis where comments are safe to drink
No camel riders disturbing the calm like a pack of marauders
Serenity is palpable without the rude disruption and the stink
of instigators trying to elicit a response... provoking prodders
Crows no longer take wing there with loud raucous caws
since the scarecrow lost his cool and had a total meltdown
To the sound of trills, there's no sight of sharpened claws
It's peaceful in the field these days. No one wears a frown.
It's a sanctuary of sorts where no weapons are allowed
and calm is the river that gently flows beneath the bridge
where subversives waylaid unsuspecting ones in a crowd
That kind of ill behavior is not missed, not even a smidge
We've all heard about the changes that would come along
Now, that time has finally arrived to be enjoyed at leisure
The site is more pleasant without the same old singsong
Sincere comments often given and taken in equal measure
It may not meet the qualifications to be a Garden of Eden
but as an In-A-Gadda-Da-Vidah? Perhaps it would qualify
since there are no pens used to cause anyone's bleedin'
and no one has been bitten or stung by an Iron Butterfly
Above the public pool
a volleyball so cool
stuck for years
in the rafters
Someone’s
breath of life
trapped in
it’s bladder
Evidence of
their lingering
presence, me
wondering
if they ever
pondered the
relevance of
the essence they
left behind?
Singsong thoughts
turn inward …
What about me?
In all the places
I’ve been,
pieces of me,
residual traces
of myself
left behind,
cast away!
Small links, unforgotten,
faithfully preserved
by old friends—
threads of connection
reinforced by timeless bonds—
who keep my words,
moves (dancing!), and
shared memories as
precious cargo,
cherished keepsakes,
A clear reminder that
I exist! I matter!
I’m something much more
than simply air I breathe
on an unremembered day …
Like that beautiful volleyball
in the rafters
W I L S O N ! ! !