Long Soundtrack Poems
Long Soundtrack Poems. Below are the most popular long Soundtrack by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Soundtrack poems by poem length and keyword.
Too many of late,
Especially for "us",
The last of the
Baby Boomer generation,
And the reality of our placement
In the flow of existence,
Is that the realm of oblivion
Reaches it's sinewy fingers
For all of us ... with
Greater frequency
Each day, it seems.
Those "larger than life"
Mentors and icons,
Whose creativity has
Provided the soundtrack
And accompaniment to our lives,
Are no less susceptible to
Mortality's cold kiss than
We are, though that
Pedestal we place them
On sometimes seems
Higher than transience.
As with each such a loss,
The sun will rise a little
More hesitantly tomorrow,
Its rays will settle a bit less
Warmly on our faces, and there
Will be a "void unfillable"
In the world of music ...
A sour silence, the
Remedy for which only
The ears of angels will
Strain to attend.
We sing quietly and just want to be heard.
Our own melody, we make up every word.
We want harmony but so much could go wrong…
You want the world to sing along?
You better know your own song.
Inside every heart, it’s ringing in our ears.
Our own soundtrack plays our hopes, our dreams, our fears.
A little tune that’s looking for somewhere to belong.
You want the world to sing along?
You better know your own song.
Sing it loud and proud, each and every day.
Pretty soon there’s other singers on your way.
Then a choir forms and you’re part of something strong.
And the world will sing along
Because You knew your own song.
And the world will sing along
All because you sang your own song.
Three times it happened, all connected,
Transcending time and space,
Ignited by the key ingredients -
A tree and sky above my face.
Looking up through skeletal winter branches,
The leaves had dropped off of each bone,
The third time I was with a cherished friend,
The others, I was alone.
Rock 'n roll poets played the stinging soundtrack,
Very clear, yet very low.
The second time the music played in my head.
The others were the stereo.
Above, a patchwork of blue polygons,
Each a different shape.
My eyes traced the branching borderline.
What I'd caught could not escape.
Those bare boughs and branches were the border
Of my roots in the earth below
And the greater spiritual universe
As time was moving slow.
I was no longer lost, no longer running,
Gazing skyward, I was found.
The quiet energy in me was stunning
As I looked up from the ground.
I saw that I was sad, but not bewildered.
Yet, too, I was wild, and I was free.
I was young and I was old, feeling bleak and cold,
But I was real, and it was me.
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©
In the abyssal silence of fading stars, I travel through shadows,
Under the heavy eyelids of night, I walk the ancient, nameless path.
Mysterious words, like an old prayer, roll in echoes,
Calling the forgotten spirits of the forests to dance under the moon.
I feel my soul cradled by the cosmic wind, on its unseen wings,
In an embrace with eternity, where time merges with the dream.
Under the flowering earth of the mind, the roots of thoughts intertwine,
Seeking the hidden springs of wisdom beyond the veil of illusion.
The mirrors of waters reflect the inner sky, a labyrinth of unknown desires,
And silence lays like a cloak of stars on the weary shoulders of destiny.
The sacred repetitions of heartbeats, a metronome of the universe,
Whisper ancestral stories to me, in a language of cosmic silence.
Solitude is an old friend, a shadow that dances with me,
On the edge of the abyss between dream and reality, in a waltz of infinity.
I touch the edges of chaos with trembling fingers, seeking hidden meanings,
In a never-ending journey toward the light known only to souls.
I lose and find myself in a spiral, like a dervish spinning in ecstasy,
Embracing silence as the soundtrack of an unseen world,
Where poets are prophets who listen to the whispers of an unfulfilled future,
And the word becomes an open portal to the infinity within us.
Thus, in the flow of consciousness, I slip on the river of time and space,
Seeking truth in the mirage of existence, on an endless path of mystery,
And so I transform, like a flame dancing to the rhythms of stars,
In a universe of dreams, carried by the wings of silence toward eternity.
I’m drunk, but you’re beautiful,
a line I used to rehearse.
The Dreamers’ artistic longing felt noble,
but it came with a curse.
I bought the ticket when I didn’t know better from worse.
Now I’ve got a tale of rebellion,
and I’ll share it in verse,
it all changed one Star Wars Day,
when my thirst reversed.
May the Fourth, and I felt matured.
No Padawan—now Jedi Master,
just a little unmoored.
Met some friends inclined for chilled wine,
drinking enough to feel ruthlessly divine.
That hazy day, glazed in the usual sway.
That familiar vortex, melancholy perturbed.
Soles stained deeply by the absurd,
fermented grapes, chaos,
and the dark side assured.
The dark side calls as we sit with the thirst,
but Skywalker’s force starts thinking first:
“Unlearn what you have learned.”
Yoda’s wisdom, unrehearsed.
I needed a change, something absolute.
Had to break old habits
and reroute my pursuit.
Flip the script, exit the Aristotle loop.
We can still have fun.
Still embrace the absurd.
Someone said, “It’s Star Wars Day,”
and a spark then occurred.
We found a weird café,
celebrating in cosplay,
and somewhere in that moment,
a new hope was incurred.
Arriving at the venue, a little out of town, we found the clan,
Princess Leia sold us tickets on the door deadpan,
no droids allowed, no stormtroopers,
but there was a sandman,
Inside were Wookies at the bar, slamming shots like my mum can.
Han Solo in carbonite poster hanging on the wall,
Kids having lightsaber fights with bar stools, humming bishoooom loudly down the hall.
Glass cabinets with falcons and dioramas were neat.
Cantina soundtrack playing curiously on repeat,
Grabbed snacks, Empires on screen, so we found a seat.
We wandered deeper past merch and collector cases,
through aisles of toys and cosplayed faces.
The type of folk draw to these kind of conventions,
You know the type without me having to mention,
They filled the room with joy beyond pretension,
I watched them just be, and I wanted that,
but I found I had to be patient.
I don’t have to keep falling for the trap,
it’s not just escape, it must be more pure.
I lost a friend that day, and yeah, it’s still sore.
He bowed out—boozehound chasing the score,
while I found experience, absurdity, and something more secure.
No acknowledgement could be
commensurate nar e'er
equivalent to countless years (scores of orbitz
of unexplored wonder) – left...
(with millstones around neck)
to atrophy on severe truncated
limb mitts, now cause
for silent lachrymose as this
brother doth brook a wake
his pained self actualization
(particularly predicated on
decade number six
unavoidably approaching) uptake
analogous to 2001 A Space Odyssey,
when closing scene
of the film - image of embryonic
"Starchild" left a slake
king unshakable reverberation
Also Sprach Zarathustra
echoing in me noggin since
opening soundtrack did quake
of a much younger self, when seeing
the movie did overtake
puzzlement until I read the book
"aha" awareness did make
that minor mystery resolved, and
now childhood's end keepsake
recalled as the time thy vulnerable
psychological state did intake
pelting asteroid storm cratering a boy
who shied away, to forsake
growing up, and now haunted (akin
to ghost of Marley) not "FAKE"
shackled to an un freed spirit, that
got squelched as if a sudden brake
got jammed propelling this then puny
body electric...now doth ache.
Road Rage
The sign on the road said stop and turn back
But the driver is listening to his own soundtrack
The noise in his head is messing up his thinking
As he looks at the truck ahead whose lights are blinking
He yells out the window ‘’Are you stupid or what’’
‘’Watch what you’re doing you ignorant clot’’
When he looks back at the road it’s already too late
With his foot to the floor, he meets his fate
I know for I was there on that same road
I was driving a truck with a heavy load
The truck in his way was driven by me
I kept hitting the breaks in the hope he would see
The bridge up ahead had collapsed you see
I did what I could as he sailed by me
He saw my warnings as a hindrance to ignore
Some people are like that when you knock on their door
Don’t worry how they drive, but how you do instead
Watch for the warning lights up ahead
For some roads go nowhere and you need to resist
Because those that seek to travel them will cease to exist
A.Jarvis March 2012
Rad mad hatter batter approach
Kiwi coach who Key did poach
It seems he is beyond reproach
When it really matters in tatters
Castle clatters Ashes hope shatters
Our guys bowling pies on platters
Memes scatter legacies splatters
Egos not heroes BazBull flatters
The urn won’t return with the Mac
Yearn but burn totally out off whack
Concern can’t learn not got the knack
Brendon a torn forlorn tendon on the rack
But will still earn a packet deserves a smack
Bitten not smitten his racket of cricket crack
Wouldn't change tack and deserves the sack
The hack pack giving him a stack of flak
Finally a step back from just all out attack
Too little too late the recurring soundtrack
Whittled & skittled fate well we were cack
Drunk monkeys just sunk spunky flunkies
Lack guts gumption gusto were so slack
The lies spool pulls over our eyes the wool
Must backtrack no crackerjack comeback
Debunk the funk & gist of narcissist gunk junkies
Cool over old school fool rule of Baz (load of ) Bull
Time these harlots & charlatans brought Test best back
Cooey have you heard the word on the streets 8 hours of absurd beats
Doff hat to old school cool cat rule in the hot seat sat every tune just phat
Over the moon we swoon legends croon only a buffoon lampoon’s the boon
Phew we hiss lost you and didn’t have a scooby doo how to cope without you
Heaven or Evan's sent hell bent to be the main event a magical musical present
Give Chris a kiss knew we’d miss the dope bliss did feed our need for more you
Like the thriller in Manila not a scintilla of filler just another bassline flotilla
No fraud or clanger all banger the concorde of chords roared in our hangar
Mr Morgan on the soundtrack tiller our melody miller our weekend’s pillar
Won’t get too gooey eyes wet a little dewy guys prime time to tell your friends
Can’t go wrong sound the gong funkier than cartoon loon Hong Kong Fuey
Every gambit & skit en song ding dong laced with wit from his Sunday pulpit
Brassy every pundit knows the culprit could only be Huey you’ll like it..stay classy