Long Solos Poems
Long Solos Poems. Below are the most popular long Solos by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Solos poems by poem length and keyword.
Friendship Garden
Springtime plants a friendship garden
Daffodils bloom – a smidge of sass -
Conducts chorus exuberant
Nodding snowdrops chant with pansies
Sing plainsong through dark days of cold
Crocus hum the harbinger’s song
In shades of purple, yellow, white
Narcissus join with harmony
As the melody crescendos
Dainty Jonquils add pure descants
Heart lifting joy in blessing songs
Poppy solos sing in crimson
Fiery notes of breathtaking grace
Hyacinths then trill arias
In sweet notes of lavender blue
Spring garden friends sing operas
4-1-22
Contest: Lay Form Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
Thank you Susan Ashley for your inspiration!
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
LIFE IS A SONG
Throat cleared and a first breath taken
Life has begun and it’s full of surprises
Soon to sing loudly, but softly at first
A few wrong notes, it’s not the worst
Then keep in tune as the melody rises
From deep within, a voice will awaken
It matures in pitch as the years pass by
From treble to tenor and then baritone
Reflecting life with its twists and turns
But in harmony with others’ concerns
Passionate voice, not a heart of stone
Yet in later years, it takes time to fly
At a certain age, sadly a singing pause
Listening brings back a choral memory
No more solos and a wide vocal range
Remembering a part now feels strange
And a rasping tone sounds like emery
One day, it'll be just residents applause
Languor Afternoons
David J Walker
I
The odd stone was a family heirloom
And a friendly oracle
Always quietly
thinking of the future
Collecting visions of the past
I stared for hours
Before I asked
for its wisdom
It would simply smile
But only for a while
Before returning to its mineral leanings
II
The fouls flying in
Single file
Sang in scales
Alone
In solos of discord
Searching for
A flocks choir to join
Two were baritone
The rest sang in pitch
unknown
III
The man in the mirror
Whom I did not recognize
Asked me politely
If it’s time to give up
Any hope for change
Or
Had the time past
to challenge the effects
of age and gravity
Shall I be condemned
for self-fulfilling vanity
IV
How much easier it is
To live
In the past
rather than in
The future
Where I can be the oracle
Of all certain things
Inescapable
I am numb
with questions
From those in
Impending times
To come
Where I am the
Denizen stranger
V
Languor rain on an
autumn afternoon
the sun refuses to show face
disgraced
by good intentions unmet
but
I am open to an
Unannounced extended stay
I have yet to
curse September rain as
It comes
When it comes
The concert of my dreams would include Cher and Tina Turner.
Throw in Andy Williams, Perry Como and the Glen Miller Orchestra
Adam Lambert, Jessie Blaze Snider and Lady Gaga will be doing solos.
We will have Roger Taylor of Queen on the drums, naturally.
Bette Midler is dressed in style as our guest conductor,
she breaks into song and Whoopie takes the maestro hat.
The Beatles have come back to life, to round us out.
Willie and Johnny Cash have just arrived to get this party started.
Is that Mama Cass I see? And Helen Reddy?
Oh, yes, this concert rocks!
I close my eyes, optimistic they know what to do, and well!
The concert of my dreams!
Every Christmas season
the carolers delight
by singing Christmas songs
at the beginning of night
Joyful and fun to each house they go
folks would sing along as the happiness echos
cheers and treats household shared
for the carolers were beloved dear.
He was tall handsome and charming
his voice velvet smooth and disarming
everyone desired to hear his solos
of course we're speaking of young Joe Joe
For Carl was short and chubby
his voice even sounded stubby
high notes became a screech
singing was out of his reach
But Caroling Carl would not go
this season he was the first to enroll
the others tried kindly to nudge him out
but Carl thought they were jealous louts
His singing lead to despair
his voice no one wanted to hear
word spread and the carolers were feared
for with Carl the people disappeared
Doors remained shut curtains closed
lights went out as the carolers posed
the songs of Christmas went dim
for folks in houses hid within
Caroling Carl could not understand
why on this holiday people went grim
the others wanted to shout
Carl please get out
This could not go on
fooling Carl they all played along
giving him the wrong route
their singing could regain it's clout
But Carl knew it was an innocent mistake
soon enough he discovered their escape
he even sang louder than before
as folks with earplugs hid indoors
Before the Christmas singing was gone
they had to make even Carl belong
convincing him to sing so soft and low
and behind him sang the handsome Joe Joe
Caroling Carl sang so low and grew with acclaim
his soft singing brought Joe Joe hidden fame
for if his voice they could not hear
the more for Carl folks cheered
This was the best Christmas caroling season by far
as the young Joe Joe was the true singing star
and it was all owed to Caroling Carl's so soft voice
for folks enjoyed not hearing it the most.
October firmly sits
awaiting the imminent arrival
of Hallows Eve. It creeps
ever closer, and so too my ghosts.
Skeletons long packed away
play percussion solos with my coat hangers.
The closed door muffles its cacophony,
but soon others may notice the bus for freedom.
Pandora’s box has nothing on my closet!
Phantom images haunt my sleep.
Though once I worshiped you,
you never achieved sainthood
despite the ephemeral nature of your love.
Your corporeal tastes are definitely earthy,
even if we glimpsed Heaven.
Be gone, Damn Thoughts!
Drift away on the autumn zephyrs;
find another house to haunt
another marriage to taunt.
You are no longer welcome here.
The porch light is turned off;
the candy dish is empty.
Take your treats and
go trick someone else.
Join the parade of ghouls
trailing away down the street.
One more spectre won't be noticed
in the Halloween crowd, so
Take your memories, and
get the f**k out!
The grass "dewed" in spring’s early morning shimmer
Upon a crocus lay an "alula" in the sun with a glimmer
A symbol of many flights on every "level" there is to be
Whether it be "solos" or those together, feeling free
Often at "noon" Robin hop across the sunny land
Their "stots" fun to watch, then so still they do stand
Summer brings the "pop" of fireworks in the sky to see
Hummingbirds, "kayak", cookouts and bumble bee
Fall for me can sometimes bring on a "doom mood"
As fun summer "sagas" end, squirrels scramble for food
Winter looms but "live not evil", for there is Christmas "Eve"
Followed by Christmas, a "tenet" most important to believe
Heidi Sands
9/26/18
*Placed 2nd in Palindromes 2 Contest.
One palindrome for each sentence.(oops one sentence has 2) Difficulty getting the bold to work for the words.
Dewed - Past tense verb of wet
Alula - Broken bird's wing
Level - Horizontal plane above or below given point
Solos - Plural for one singular person
Noon - Midday
Stots - Bounces
Pop - Explosive sound
Kayak - Canoe of a type used originally by the Inuit, made of light frame
Doom Mood - Feeling of things going badly or to get worse
Sagas - Long stories of achievement
Live Not on Evil - Choice not to live evil
Eve - Period of time immediately before an event
Tenet - Principle of belief, especially one of the main principles of religion
In the heart of Harlem's nocturnal embrace,
where the moon's silver threads interlace.
Streetlamps hum a jazz-filled tune,
underneath the city's ebony dune.
Brownstone whispers, history untold,
in the rhythm of the Harlem night's hold.
A symphony of footsteps on cobblestone,
each echo a tale, each shadow, a home.
Saxophone solos from an open window,
melodies that the city's heart knows.
Dancing notes in the summer air,
as dreams ascend the winding stair.
Voices rise from the stoops below,
poetry in the cadence, in the ebb and flow.
In the Harlem night, stars align,
a constellation of stories, yours and mine.
Countee's verses echo on these streets,
where the past and present gently meets.
Harlem's heartbeat, a rhythmic boon,
sung in the verses of a Harlem nocturne.
A parade of verdant, floating fields
appear within a clouded dream
idyllic islands in the sky
a tranquil vision, peaceful sigh
of heavenly serenity.
Yet now, the scene is set adrift
by ominous and darkened twists
of blackened branches
that weave and weave
they suffocate and bring unease
within this solemn surreal sight
of stricken trees that die at night.
Now all around these floating fields
sad, lonesome cattle graze
they graze and graze
in an endless maze
how strange and sullen are their ways
the mind is in a perpetual haze.
A muted sky surrounds
with drifts amidst the clouds above
and still below, more clouds abound
within this realm, both high and low
dark solos haunt i
they ever wail and mark the spot
where dreams await their end, their lot
by what is not, by what is not.
Anna Bananna was a madam
Never odd or even
She performed her civic duty
By maintaining stats
On the subtlety of sexes
She used a radar for precision
Using codes when she’d refer
To everything from solos to curiosities
Ensuring to pull up her level
Maintaining her top spot
As proud reviver of the arts
Driving her hot pink racecar
Aha! There she goes Anna Bananna
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on October 22, 2018 for contest PALINDROMES II sponsored by JOSEPH MAY - RANKED 2ND