Long Tay Poems
Long Tay Poems. Below are the most popular long Tay by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Tay poems by poem length and keyword.
Falling for you
I can't say my life's been easy,
one thing has helped me get through
from cries in the night to feeling alright
was my dream of me finding you
Lost and alone was my journey,
fruitless my searching for you...
when you walked in, I felt my life begin,
I knew I'd be falling for you
Chorus
I...cant... believe that you're here,
I just love everything that you do!
The spark in your smile, makes my life worthwhile
and I know that I'm falling for you!
It's...true...I love what you do,
and I can't believe that you are here!
You gave up the dance, for a shot at romance
and I know that I'm falling for you,
yeah, I'm tripping and falling for you!
I found myself in Buenos Aires,
I'm not really sure just why,
You got on the train, I thought I'd go insane
I knew I'd be falling for you
We got off at the same station,
we walked to Teatro Colon*,
You disappeared but my vision stayed clear,
I knew I was falling for you
Chorus
I...cant... believe that you're here,
I just love everything that you do!
The spark in your smile, makes my life worthwhile
and I know that I'm falling for you!
It's...true...I love what you do,
and I can't believe that you are here!
You gave up the dance, for a shot at romance
and I know that I'm falling for you,
yeah, I'm tripping and falling for you!
I was just one of the thousands...
who saw you in your ballet shoes,
You leapt on the stage, and my heart flipped the page
and I knew I was falling for you!
I saw you after the show...
seems... you were waiting for someone,
when I called out your name, things were never the same
because you too, knew I was the one.
Chorus
I...can't... believe that you're here,
I just love everything that you do!
The spark in your smile, makes my life worthwhile
and I know that I'm falling for you!
It's...true...I love what you do,
and I can't believe that you are here!
You gave up the dance, for a shot at romance
and I know that I'm falling for you,
yeah, I'm tripping and falling for you!
yeah, I'm tripping and falling for you!
yeah, I'm tripping and falling for you!
repeat and fade!
John Derek Hamilton
September 16,2018
* Teatro Colon (Tay- at- tro, Co-lone)
Ballet and opera house in Buenos Aires
This is a true-life celebration of love ballad. A chance meeting on a Greek island becomes a whirlwind romance. From Athens’ vibrant Monastiraki markets to a Taverna where you can experience the lively traditional, passionate Greek culture and music.
Join Demetri and his spirited Sismo Dance Company to the strains of his Bouzouki. This Original bilingual (English/Greek) musical experience blends the magic of love at first sight with traditional and Mediterranean flair, to moonlit beaches, it’s a tribute to all those who’ve ever fallen in love fast, felt deeply, and dared to dream.
(YouTube, Subtitles in multiple languages)
(Simply click the Gear icon, choose your preferred language under 'Subtitles/CC'. Then click on 'Auto Translate.')
Come Closer To Me - Love at First Sight
LYRICS
COME CLOSER TO ME
Trelos ya sena
COME CLOSER, LOVE YOU TRUE,
Ella Konda mou na sou po,
MAY I HUG YOU,
Na s’angalayaso an boro,
I DANCED WITH YOU LAST NIGHT,
Ma ze sou horepsa egthes,
FOR ME YOU SEEMED SO RIGHT,
Agapi mou apo pou erthes?
COME CLOSER FOR IT IS MY AIM,
Ella Konda, na sou po,
TO TELL MY SECRET, THIS NO GAME,
To mistiko mou ella tho,
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Thellou na zesume mazi.
ENJOY OUR YOUTH AND IN IT BASK.
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
WE WILL LOVE, KISS AND SIP FROM WINE,
Sta hili sou ena fili, se agapo toso poli,
AND WHILST WE DINE,
Ke an to potiri me krasi
IF A GLASS MAY FALL, BREAK AND SPILL,
Poh tay gee thee,
LET IT BE ON ME, IF IT WILL.
Na eme ego, ke ohi esee.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apti tin argee, esouna ese.
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
TOLD YOU THE SECRET TO MY HEART,
Goritsi mou, kseris ese to mystiko,
YOU WERE MY LOVE FROM THE START,
Apti tin argee, esouna ese.
YOU KNOW I CANNOT LIVE WITHOUT YOU, SO
Yati horis esena then boro,
FOREVER YOU’RE MY GAL AND ME YOUR BEAU.
Eeme trelos ya sena mono esena agapo.
TO STAY WITH ME I ASK,
Me tin igia mas ke krasi
1)Bind your eyes with a scarf. Do not cheat, allow no light to pass through.
2)Pick a quiet place with just you and the following; your paints, your paintbrushes, your easel, and your canvas, and collected items from across the world.
3)To ensure that you select the appropriate colours of his eyes firstly you need to go on a journey to the Carribean in hopes of replicating his human canvas exterior. Gather some fresh ocean water in a vial. Examine the manner in which the light passes through the deep blue life liquid, like a dolphin's back cutting across the glass surface of the ocean at sunset.Capture the memory of that colour, tuck it away, without this appropriate representation you will not do the piece any justice at all. It would be like Da Vinci giving Mona Lisa hair that was gray. Try to stop your mind from wandering, imagining what it would be like to swim through those eyes and be lost in his visual paradise. So captivating, and full of his pure hearted desires. His blue eyes speckled with Silver are reminescent of the moon. The wolves cry woefully because they are too far away to feel his lovely grace. His gaze so penetrating like steel rings, is truly comforting. He is the protector, he is a lighthouse, and his heart will always be your shelter.
4) Capture the next flight to Greece. Run your hands over the marble, memorize the contours of the milky Statue of Angel Icarus. Feel the muscles of the upper arms, to recognize what it is to create a man out of stone. Sit cross legged on the floor, at the feet of the Stone Angel. Icarus is a cold vision of a man, but Tay is full of warmth, beauty and compassion, it is obvious that the winged image of a Greek God could never manage to compare to him. Tay is a modern day livng breathing sculptor, with a microphone tattoo uniquely etched into his skin. Just remember how wide his arms are for hugging. His cheeks so flushed with joy, you will need to gather the grapes from Italy. Climb the highest tree in the Orchard. Find a handful that is so rich in flavour like his pernality. His taste from his lips are aromatic and intoxicating.
Form:
(French terms to know: arabesque (ar-a-besk) stand on one leg, other leg extended back
with knee straight, arms out; pirouette (peer-oo-et) a full turn of the body on the top of
the toe or the ball of the foot; releve' (rel-vay) rise up from the whole foot onto the
ball of the foot; demi plie' (dem-ee plee-ay) half bend of the knees; port de bras
(por-de-bra) continual movement of the arms through a series of positions; fouette
(foo-ay-tay) series of turns on one leg, the other leg extending rapidly to side and
whipping around body; glissade (glee-sade) a connecting sliding step
When corrals turn to mush
and all dirt roads are slush,
springtime has arrived at our place.
The challenge begins
since I'm sans webs or fins
to walk outside with upright grace.
I don my galoshes
and cov'ralls that washes
to feed stock that wait in the lots.
By the time I return
I will honestly earn
my decor of brown and green spots.
As I step in the slop,
my galoshes do flop,
as ankle-deep mud gets a grip.
In slow forward motion
I ease through this potion,
resisting the muck's pull to slip.
I feed several hay bales
and balance two grain pails,
while working my way through the soup.
But before I am through
I'll lose one boot or two
from suction of that muddy goop.
THWOOP!
My foot's poised in the air
as I (gasp) balance up there.
I execute an arabesque,
a slow pirouette
so I shan't get all wet.
What I need is a chair or a desk!
My predicament here
since my boot is so near
is to turn it around in the slop.
My balance must hold
while my foot's in this mold
and fearing my body will drop.
A controlled releve'
and demi plie'
are more than my posture can stand.
A wild port de bras
while I desperately claw
finds me catching the ground with my hand.
I snap a fouette'
and turn the other way.
I manage a slippery glissade.
For it's not every day
you see Muck Dance Ballet--
just when ankle deep mud makes you wade.
Copyright Terry Henderson
terryhenderson.net
Whit dat tight till - say
yes, aye wool thank ewe
mooch at least for today
hoof fully (this Joe kerr)
can easily bide his time weigh
beef hoar rammy cows come home.
Meantime India interim
lemme clover - reaching
far out on dam moost precarious limb,
bot do nut inspect me tub bark prim
and proper, nor procrastinate for tim
marrow, cause spontaneous whim
will lose heft, no matter how inane
poetic palaver could by then
elude ding me noggin to explain
nebulous jibber jabber hokey folderol
even confusing to a Great Dane
a dog (of course)
man's/woman's beast friend,
not hounding visa vis discovering
you improperly verb (bait him)
bone a fied with noun (sense)
barking up wrong tree
dangling modifier as gerund
faux paws and inquisitive,
nonetheless countenance do lend
sincere cachet gnome hatter compared
to average superficial *****sapien
said former doggone creature just thru
facial expression can mend
"broken" heart and soul,
which rhyming tangent did send
yours truly off scent, asper initial trend
actually truth be told, no paw tickle har
matter, I sought to sink teeth into,
but let babbling stream of consciousness wend,
where petty full extemporaneous tooting
oh my didgeridoo, which initially scares
the dickens out gills of hooting
blowfish until they recognize
this bloke juiced pooting
air thru a long wooden tube, be yule
then their piousness piqued to pisces,
gather together as if attending school
always mindful to follow
the goldenfish rule
i.e. aldi tom not erring,
floundering, and getting
tricked, royally suckered, and
hooked becoming gruel
resulting within tummy higher
up the feeding chain,
survival of dragnets cruel.
fission expedition for
salmon to hope fillet
enjoys almost done hook,
line and sinker - hooray,
sans to steal mental energy,
and precious time may
king another reason to be
persnickety and every ray
zen to be guarded, when
wading in cyber seas tay
king precautions, once
I return from Uruguay.
I met her the other day
At a friends house par-tay
She danced gracefully
Me, geriatrically
I liked the way she looked
Like bait, I was hooked!
When she left, I got plastered
Woke up like a useless bastard
Realizing I’d forgotten
What her name was - I’m so rotten!
I hardly know her from my soap
But wishful thinkers - we have hope.
I pondered her for hours
While disarranging flowers
A petal at a time
As I sang that senseless rhyme:
She loves me, she loves me not
She loves me, she lets me rot
Before I lost the plot
I thought she was called… Peggy?
It wouldn’t matter to me
If her name was Half Past Three
Even though it doesn’t rhyme
With a petal at a time
The whisper of it rings
A bell for he who sings:
She loves me, she loves me not
She loves me, she lets me rot
What her name was - I forgot
Maybe it was… Jenny?
That social app on my mobile
Led me to her public profile
I touched her likeness, held my breast
Then sent off a ‘friend request’.
Tears of joy joined petal mess
The silly lass clicked on ‘Yes’.
She loves me, she loves me not
She loves me, she lets me rot
I may smoke too much pot
But you know she’s not… Kenny!
Oh my god, it’s not funny
I pocket dialed her from the dunny
Left a message most unfit
Told her to delete it!
The last petal I plucked
Told me… I sucked!
She lets me rot, she loves me not
She listened to my bowl shot!
She’s right to let me rot you know
Her proper name is Penny!
Penny, Penny, Penny, Penny…
She’s right to let me rot you know
Her proper name is Penny!
CHANGING OF YEARS
The darkness overwhelms
sitting on an old com tower
well into the Plain of Reeds
watching for enemy movement
Using bunkers of a firebase
long deserted and long rotted
two bunkers remain intact
The ARVN are very frightened
their bunker re-enforced
We three not paying attention
our bunker is the old TOC
holes show partial damage
openings are our escape route
A canal is just below me
having a deep and fast current
yet moving with the ocean tides
even this close to Cambodia
The last second of this year
the night lights up with flares
a thin horizon in the distance
colour of base camps reflected
from Tay Ninh around to My Tho
A near perfect half circle projected
light from far away soldiers
they paint a glimpse of civilisation
an impossible distance from us
the world feels light years away
I notice the darkness around us
we are outside the circle of light
outside every thing we know
Our location an envelope of space
infinitely stretching beyond hope
The flares now lost in a new year
darkness now melded together.
our darkness is so much deeper
Our universe of this nothingness
drawing those very dark thoughts
the World is gone and home gone
So hard to breathe this nothingness
I feel darkness penetrate my soul
inevitably the dark will overwhelm
will hold me regardless of new light
the darkness held forever in my soul
A Klingon Love Poem
(In Klingon and English)
tlhIngan bang bom tlhab
(pa' tlhIngan 'ej English Hol)
tugh mate beast qem jIH
flesh, cobalt jIb tear rip
metallic jeD rip qIj vo' DapIHchugh
ghaH ghob'e' nasty, Hegh mInDu' qul
Hurgh qab leathery
uglier Dunmo' tay embrace
dungeons Hurgh foreplay yInISQo' maHvaD
DeSDu' muSHa'ghach objects hurling jej
ravDaq pound, lojmIt pach maH
bey HoS jachpu'DI' DeSDu' morg maS
roar rur heavenly ghe''or Qo'noS vergh
jaQ neH rIQ qet bangwI'
Dub inflicted Hoch latlhpu'
rol taj jej taj
'ej HIv Ho' sharper
'Iw 'uQ'a' Hoch latlhpu' maH
ghob wej qa''a''e' pemHov lust
A Klingon Love Poem
(In Klingon and English)
Bring me a female mating beast
To pound her flesh, to tear her cobalt hair
Rip the thick metallic black from the head
She must be nasty, with fire in the eyes for death
A dark leathery face
The uglier the better for the ritual embrace
Let us foreplay in dungeons dark
Hurling sharp objects at love
We will scorch the floors, claw the doors
Howl out loud at the moons of Morg
Roar like heavenly hell on Kronos shores
My love runs deep in the wounds
Inflicted on each others backs
With razor sharp knives
And sharper teeth attacks
We will feast on each others blood
Do battle till the sun comes up with lust
Bagpipes in short high sounding squeals
that loudly play to the ears appeal
some haunting distant melodic foreboding malaise,
stretching across an isle of green-blue ways,
freed open and gingerly
along the lochs and rivers Clyde, Tay, Tweed, and Dee;
a glistening jewel of history unshelved
with ghosts, monsters, fairies, and elves
upon the southern shore of the Bay o' Skaill swells,
over the West Mainland parish of Sandwick's silent bells,
the Neolithic village of Skara Brae - indelible granite white
Orkney's most-visited ancient relic sites;
islands set apart where the Scottish bagpipes sing
of the clan's immortal heart on the wing;
the lull and lore of older memories fades and wilts
like colors sewn within the Tartan kilts
Glasgow and Edinburgh ring truly filled
as kilts swing in the whistling wind unstilled,
"We’re a’ Jock Tamson’s bairns!"
cries aloud in wails and shrills of Scottish yarns;
come ye rustic castles and pastorals
listen to the swish and swirls, legends rural,
in the rush of bagpipes and flaring kilts
along the cobblestones of Donegal dark silt
and all the island shores gleaned
greetings from the Scottish lore imaginings.
Julia Ward's contest
Theme of Scotland
3/17/21
Foreword: we’re all aware of the ’pot ate oh’ and ‘pert arter’ debate... well, in some English accents (including my own) there is a third version: ‘per tay ter’. I lean toward this pronunciation in this poem... So please don’t throw stones... or pertarters.
Two cannibals went hunting humans one day
Hoping a decent meal might come their way
They came to a beach and there was a boat
A skin and bone man said, ‘I’m six weeks afloat’
Because he was boney with so little muscle
They skewered that sailor with barely a tussle
A fire they lit and then over it
They perched our survivor like meat on a spit
One cannibal said he was off to find wood
You keep him turning to cook him real good
And then in an hour he stood there aghast
He’d never seen anyone turn meat so fast
His mate was rotating the spit roast like crazy
His victim’s arms flailing so fast they were hazy
The other one said turn it slow or be sure
That damned skinny human is gonna be raw
Well, the cannibal cook said with undisguised ire
I’m having to spin him fast over the fire.
So he won’t be cooked till quite a lot later
’cause each revolution he nicks a potater