Long Songster Poems
Long Songster Poems. Below are the most popular long Songster by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Songster poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh, with great delight, from
out of the shadowy night, I hear
a loud, powerful melody drifting
such a mournful song
with a chant soul-stirring
a songster with whistles that crescendo
trills, chirping, twittering and gurgles, concerto lovely
that sends my own soul on a journy into the depths of my mind, for
beautiful memories
and faraway dreams yet to come . . .
_______________________________
February 23, 2018
Poetry/Free Verse/Simple Mutterings/The Nightingale
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9967-55-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
I reckon I'm showing my age and am pretty well set in my ways,
But I have zero tolerance for the 'noise' called music nowadays!
The metal bands and rap are loathsome to my sensitive ears.
I haven't heard a melodic tune on the radio for over sixty years!
Pleasing to the ear was Vaughn Monroe and his mellow baritone.
Likewise, the romantic, comprehensible crooning of Vic Damone.
A songster who could stir even the most unromantic soul,
Was the silky-smooth delivery of debonair Nat King Cole!
I truly enjoyed the ballads belted out by the ever-living Elvis,
And got a kick out of watching in action his double-jointed pelvis!
Delightful were the songs vocalized by cheerful Doris Day.
It was so relaxing listening to the Velvet Fog, Mister Mel Torme!
Will there ever be another Glenn Miller, Perry Como or Peggy Lee,
Dinah Shore, Frankie Laine or Jo Stafford entertaining me?
Oh, to hear again The Mills Brothers and their sweet harmony.
Now all I hear is dreadful screams and gross disharmony!
Today's drivel to my romantic soul gives me great offense.
'Tis alien to my ears and doesn't make a bit of sense.
Music back then invited you to hold your gal in close embrace,
As you danced and murmured sweet nothings face to face!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
Entry for Nayda Ivette Negron's "Favorite Music Type" Contest
POEM FOR EUNA DAVIS
A very throaty Warbler issued
Quavering Trills in a morning song -
As he serenaded the dew
drops on the grateful trees
Other birds were answering with
songs of praise from familiar days.
No one taught them
how to sing or gave them
the messages they so proudly bring.
Birds form near and far
joined in as if to say -
We will add our voices to remind you,
that we are cheerful and we sing for you.
We are aware-we are awake-
and we are awesome
chirping and singing our songs as
we bath in puddles of raindrops.
We remember the timing of the of the
golden and silver songsters.
Ruffling feathers coquettishly
as each song in the distance stirs
up fond memories of your existence.
The caw-caw, the peeps, and the chirps;
The caw -caw again and
the melodic harmony begins
Orchestrating the morning worship
in celebration of this life.
One songster descanted a high range
as he sang a louder pitch
Distinctly he told tales of ancestors
with welcoming smiles
.
The siren in the distance and the
overhead plane Threatened the calm
The plane resounded as thunder
above all the noise
the birds continued to sing.
I Listened as they go on to conclude
in exuberant delight Warblers warbling
Tweet- tweets deliberating discussions
many more chirp’s peeps and tweets
During the morning meditation.
As the world passes by
I'd listen to the bird’s serenade-
I'd listen to the clucks-
and the cackles, I'd listened
to the throaty warbler-
as he resumes the lead song.
The other birds in turn join in again.
The world rejoices in their songs
all over the universe-
the rest of my day
could never be as great as
the moments in the morning when
I'd meditate and listen to the birds sing.
A loved one closed her eyes
and made her transition;
The chirking birds know-
That the only triumph over
death is to have lived a good life.
So, they continue to sing.
I'd sit and solemnly listen to the message
that their chipping brings
I softly say goodbye.
We shall never forget Euna Davis
as long... As early in the morning
We be reminded in jubilant birdsong.
Copyright © Vicki Acquah | Year Posted 2013
Brandy and Crème soda
Autumn summons us
Shoulder to shoulder
We know not
If we’re getting older
We are self confident soldiers
I give you the best
Of my brandy and Crème soda
March
Early and on we shall
Through these days of despair
Autumn prevails
Ways to soften
Whom could offer such a touch
A warm letter in the mail
Growing adolescents
A young man
The consequences that follow
A growing male
The turmoil that soothes us
Is growing ale
The spice that tips ginger
Snaps a small town singer
“I love you”
It’s going to be a long winter
Shall we withstand
This duration as centered
Look to no one
For flaws
seem to dissolve our mentors
Passion is Rum
Whiskey endures
cold nights and un-sober palms
A rapist telling me
“I love your mom”
A young harlet calling
“dear love come home”
A shelter
From where doubt comes
The city’s filth
Why it loves only my lungs
I’m good, I’m fine
Expressions in a glass of wine
Through these words
A strangers poetry
You and I
have become intertwined
I’m lost, I’m alone
I feel as though
I’ve become undone
Run, run, away and fast
On to no where, as orphans
We were found at last
A wise man said “all you need is love.”
To satisfy our dear Lord above
God made us hoping we’d live in peace
That earth would be a gleeful retreat.
Imagine being in mist of war
Living in fear behind one's front door
Afraid to sleep, in a living hell
Listening for the latest bombshell.
Seeing dead bodies strewn all around
Innocents sadly heavenward bound
Glorious buildings raised to the floor
Been and gone, destroyed for evermore.
The Lord must weep to oversee this
It’s not the way we’re meant to exist
God created a world full of grace
For everyone in the human race.
Most folk on earth have a sacred heart
Knowing what’s right and wrong, from the start
All we need is love, those words so true
From a songster, who died from hate too.
Once Bob took a name that felt just right,
rolling easily on the tongue,
borrowed from a poet’s night-time beat,
before new songs were penned and sung.
No footnote was locked in a chest,
no shrine was planned, nor built—
This Bob just needed a better name that swung,
with the rhythm of hope, yet to be fulfilled.
Two Dylan's just loved the sound of words,
before their sense and meaning took shape,
that let language strut and bruise the air,
and rattle the bars of reason’s cage.
Before the listener's brains cottoned on
to what the Dylan's were thinking,
or to what the listeners made up themselves,
from the play and sound of the words.
Fans asked the Dylan's where their words came from.
Who slipped them the hidden locket key,
They shrugged, and said the words were born on the run.
They don’t belong to him, to you, to me.
For these Dylan's never bowed at any poets' feet,
nor knelt at any musician's door preempt—
They came, stood where songs and poetry meet,
and let language and rhythms become what fans adore.
So sleep on, dear folk, in your hushed-down towns,
let your secrets rock and roll on lilting tidal seas.
Let every dream of words tell you something,
even when it’s whispered to self, alone in your bed.
So Yeah! Sleep on, till the first light breaks through,
till the night rattles loose what it holds—
releasing the stories and songs waiting to unfold
from two bold Dylan's - Bard and Songster.
Let the words run free tonight.
Yeah, let those words run free.
It’s the sound before the sense, that's right!
No waiting for the consequences to be!
Oh, I love the sound of words.
Words that hum for you and me.
Yeah, words that hum for you and me.
SO THIS IS LOVE
------------------------------------------------
Composed by: Songster Dame
Lyrics by; Written Foo Nuttin
So this is love
that sweet ever after
I'm in love
the kind that last
forever
So this is love
redefining bliss
they say I am
in love
a chance not
to miss
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THE SWEETEST SONG
Sing me a melody
sing the sweetest song
sing it in the sweetest
harmony
till all the
emptiness is gone
Sing me a lovers piece
the sweetest tune
the kind of song
two lovers sing
on there honeymoon
don't sing make it special
we wanna sing alone
just to make it special
sing the sweetest song
don't let it ruin
what you got going on
sing the sweetest melody
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sing the sweetest song
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
Flowing gentle against the lips
Piercing hopes and dreams
Creating a sense of beautiful peace
Music on the end of grace
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
Feeling falling across my spirit
Raising my faith to new heights
Singing like birds in the light
Inspiring me to share my insight
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
Laughter caresses my soul
A dance of faith so pure and warm
Like a smile in the lemony sun
Passionate as the stardust moments
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
Grace measured out in gentleness
Kindness as joyful as the songster
Who lingers along the dawn’s smile
Soothing, silencing, sensing a good life
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
Loosing myself in your touch
Remembering only the hope of love
Streaming through my veins
Igniting a fire within my heart
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
Lighting the way to compassion
Feelings both wise and substantial
Welcoming the soul to freedom
And leaving the spirit full of joy
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
The reason I always reach out
To those who know there is no doubt
That love is the reason for living
Love like this whispers “believe me”
A breath, a sigh, a whisper
God’s grace coloring my dreams
Filling me up with inspiration and peace
Lighting the way so that I can see
Through the pain, into the belief
A breath, a sigh, a whisper… Believe me
Whispers Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John lawless
July 13, 2021
Mom
Poem
Lionel Derbyshire
MOM !!
My first shout out loud...
Where is my metal
When i am weak
Where is my coastline
From the deep...
Where is the fountainhead
Of our parenthood
Her heart is never locked
She rubs my ear
When I fear
And vows to love me
In solemn oath.
Where is my flawless
My entire vital wrap
My loyal guardian..
Who makes me golden.
My blanket when
I am cold..
MOM !!
I shout out loud...
Where is my trumpet call
In her shawl
She shouts from the hall
Our pact is unbreakable
In my babyhood of
Sore, cut and bleed
She be my nurse.
The jaundice, fever and the pox
She cure's it all away
Where is my night call
The tissue to my cry
My songster so enjoyable
Who tucks me in with lullabye
And hugs me so tight
As if I was part of her body.
Where is the little
That I know
From the one that brought
Me up to grow
MOM !!
I shout out loud...
Dad you are a food cart
Your place is high
In the house..
But MOM is my
My shout out loud...
First hero in this world
And my first cry out for help
Will always be ..
MOM !
You are upside down
WOW !
My triumphant call.
A desert lake is a perfect
mirror of the bluest sky
that everyone has ever seen,
it wants to trade place and expect
to be a part of Heaven
without the pretty
daisies and lilies:
it will have plenty of clouds
that will shine on breezy August noons...
as folks let loose their colorful balloons!
Watch little Claudine play the Hohner,
often times she borrows her dad's guitar...
while Aunt Jane puts on her straw hat
and shades to resemble a movie star;
that's not a beach, but she looks hot!
What's missing besides a songster?
A desert lake is a perfect mirror
of the bluest sky in Oklahoma...
where no sea is seen only big mountains,
Uncle Jesse slowly sips his chilled beer;
if it'll rain, he'll play the harmonica
making her niece mad with furrowed brows!
Watch little Claudine play the Hohner
getting claps from pops and grannies,
nobody notices when her song is out of tune;
Jack tries to warn her, but she neglects him with a smirk:
let him dance, let him sing music can change his quirk!
Funny how it delights the frantic puppies
that join the fun thinking it's opportune
to surround and upset Jack the crooner!