Long Violas Poems
Long Violas Poems. Below are the most popular long Violas by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Violas poems by poem length and keyword.
Summer reading classes begins June through August this is a great fun way for the entire family to get involved enhancing students ability to stay focus preparing for the upcoming school year I adored summer reading we did Catholic School Stem and IB which gives the students entry levels into college courses student’s are giving book list to complete with reading assignments annotations after they complete the books fun fun fun summer classes are great ways to keep their credits for honors classes as well they can also study electives during the summer Spanish French including orchestral classes we chose orchestra classes theatre’s drama from Violins Cellos to Violas you can rent used Violas instruments this was fun ways to keep busy during Covid home schooling online classes in Florida students must have computers some sights opened up and issued computers to students spectrum was awesome they offered Wi-Fi internet connections helping students this year is going to be challenging for students who losses everything during the storms hurricanes are devastation for loss however Floridians we are resilient rebuilding helping recovering restoring getting a head start keeping students from falling behind keeping them soaring in any given situation start getting ready list early fine tune instruments freshening up on Spanish French other foreign languages preparation for college course school year will be here before we know and there could be more storms reading is perfect distraction from power outages don’t wait to summer to get your summer reading list for the summer classes many blessings to all our families student’s and staff
Have you noticed how instruments show feelings?
It truly is a marvel to behold!
With the human touch they express emotions
That the musicians may not have told...
The Violins and Violas, how
They sing. They laugh. They cry
In the deepest realms of melody.
It brings tears to the eyes.
The chuckle of the Cello
Brings a smile to the face
As the strings vibrate and wiggle away
From a tickling hands embrace.
The Bows in unison rise and fall
Like dancers in a show.
Jolly whistles make merry tunes
From the Flutes and Picallo.
The delicate twinkles from the Harp
Add some sparkle to the light.
The playful Piano keys compete
And race in this musical night.
The Drums echo out the beat
Of the Orchestral heart.
The rates of which will vary
To the ending from the start.
The audience accompanies
The Orchestral happy hour
With clapping hands and tapping toes
And lyrics voices shower...
Watch and listen carefully.
More than musicians are at play.
The instruments are happy
And they share their joy today!
"Flowers are the music of the ground from earth's lips spoken without sound." - Edwin Curran
During my morning saunter, I saw the crocus smile,
even as the dewdrops danced on dandy daffodils
The peonies poked out their puny buds from under the earth
and the vibrant violas shook their violet heads,
Lilies looked lovely in their pink and yellow dresses;
I stopped and stared at colours bared,
the sweetest scents staggered my senses,
The blissful breeze waltzed with the flowers,
As the birds belted music in the background;
Had I stepped into a fresh flower fairyland?
Grateful to God for His colour coordinated creations,
I realised ~ the harbinger of good times, Spring has arrived.
03.13.2021
For Brian Strand's "Your choice 2023" contest
How many times have I written of her glows!
Yet, the yearning to write more and more grows.
Forgotten feelings soon get a vent.
When I see the sprouts, in shyness, they are bent.
Ra.. ra.. ra.. ra.. la..la..la..la.. The scented breeze hums
Aromas of my favourite buds, blooms, and blossoms
Of tulips, hyacinths, lilacs, violas, and balsams
Creep and climb jasmines, sweet peas, and clematis.
Entwining them as though a long-lost kinship bliss
From far-off trees, jealously peep the envy-red plums.
Fruit flies, sand flies, blue bottle flies, and dragon flies
Commune, with multi-hued butterflies fluttering in the skies
Queen of the Night, Bird of Paradise, and Celandine Poppies
When secretly providing nectar to the worker bees
Where-from, to chill and thrill them, come these ice crumbs?
star-swept with
soft blushing blooms ...
this slow sink ,
swathes my henna heart
with deep mauve hues ...
as I fall into the frostbitten lake
mispronouncing ~
the marmoris of metaphors
that were meant
to burn with magic ,
where the soulmate of poetry
breaks within the tears of sunset ~
sipping sighs of sorrow
from the crystal sky ,
that leaks loneliness
through the cracks of
liquid lilacs and lavender light ,
because there seems to be
no translation for the
language of love
that weaves woes
from warm wisteria
instead of blossoming
in coffee-scented chiffons
moulded into origami orchids ~
without any creases
and I wear no name
in the absence
of your ablaze august ashes …
read me swiftly
orchestrating in
the blackcurrant tattoos
breathing ... in tributaries
stretching to
the silent traces of trauma ,
twinkling with
turquoise and turpentine
for, I am not alive ~
but the seas still crash
the swollen shadows in my ribs ,
kissing the fallen sun …
that ebbs and flows …
through violets
of vaporising violas
like an incensed inferno ,
uncensored with ultraviolence
escaping the delirious doom
within driftwood dreams …
I want you ~
to not speak to me
so in affection
in this sparkling satanic siesta,
because poetry
has forevermore been
my saviour and my slaughterer ~
that leaves me …
drifting with the flow ,
in exile … evermore …
chained with
moonstone cobwebs
of confused consciousness
and conversing cryptics ~
befogged with gaslit goldens
laced with forest greens,
where verses wander
like a villain ,
withering
in emeralds …
listen, O velvet ink,
longing to be
r e
s c u
e d …
An English country garden
so evocative of times gone by
recalling all the many plants
lovingly sown by Granny and I
Majestic Lupins and Hollyhocks
so tall they almost touched the sky
Lily-of-the-Valley and Forget-me-nots
tiny flowers loved by Granny and I
London Pride and Morning Glories
no longer taking pride of place
pretty Violas and Pansies
velvet petals with a sweet smiley face
Old fashioned Roses
their beauty was sublime
such a heavenly fragrance
belonging to another time
Today our plants are brash and loud
as they try to make a statement
delicate beauty disallowed
no fragrance wafting like a cloud
Precious memories returning
of a Granny I loved so
together gathering fragrant blooms
we’d tie them with a satin bow
Perfecting a fragrant posy
a centerpiece for our table
precisely at the stroke of three
Granny and I enjoyed afternoon tea
Written 15th October 2018
3rd PLACE
Contest CHOICE Flower Verse
Sponsor Brian Strand
We asked for nothing more
than a Musik sheet the war
was nearing an end you and
your bruder was quite young
your wounds were healing as
we kneeled at Saint Sebastian
Church Rome 1944 mass wasn’t
the same without the harsh bellows
of Victory sending the birds fleeting
through the chapel as the bells chimed
I’d remember you always every single
time I fondly winded a wooden
coo coo as the milk maids dance
the wood cutter chops the bird
flies out the steeple over frauenkirche
our lady of Munich as we gathered
kirchenmusik our time Marienplatz
Mary’s town house of monks
seeing your tiny face peeking
through the American soldiers
hiding from Hitler amazing even
though you were wounded you
stood fast in Rome awaiting
victory captured a pow a prisoner
of war hard to believe today that
priest were being kelp among
my grandfather platoon somewhere
in Italy keeping you and your bruder
safe sharing lovely hymns throughout
Europe my meeting you while touring
Munich Chaplains arch bishop of Munich
the fondness of shopping in the forst
dining feasting on viener snitzel and
pomfritts a crisp Riesling sways
settled my nerves right before the
guest arrived the clock makers all
lined seeking solace for peace carving
my children toys from wood to take
back home to America my making
guitar keys for violins cellos violas
writing poetry why we were the Musik
who would have thought one of you
would be Pope I always thought
it would have be you Georg you sang
like a Cardinal creating a flock to the
choir many blessings Georg and Joseph
Ratzinger mein kirchenmusik Pope Benedict
May the Lord always be with your spirits
A faint perfume of lilac blooms has stirred the sleeping dawn
Bright sunlight weaves a golden loom with threads across the lawn
Crisp white-lipped Delphiniums tossed snowflakes to the hills, while
Daffodils and pink jonquils shake off the morning chill
Each violet of morning has left no stone deferred
Found growing near, a sprout appears from every seed interred!
Greeting me like candle flames, are poppies, gold and red
Hawthorne weaves a golden crown around the arbor's head!
I look long past the windowpane, and spring has bloomed anew,
just in time to see the sky revealed in shades of blue
knitting primroses in surprise! A sight long overdue!
Lost between the flagstones, alyssum, wild and free, has
mushroomed into puffs of white, competing with sweet peas!
New sprouts of cosmos spring alive in flowerbeds we've teased
On winter's lace a pansy face is smiling up at last!
Petunias in their pastel coats, are dressed like royalty
Queen of all in velvet robes, the iris crowns the grass!
Resplendent are the foxgloves…..and the dragons are a Snap!
Sweet Williams are such gentlemen, they make the morning grand
Tiger lilies brave the wind, stalking in the breeze
Under every shady tree, violas are reprieved, while
verdant shades of primrose lace wear green upon their sleeves
Wisteria's hysteria spreads levity with ease!
Xanadu is Statice "quo"……now, what more could it do?
Yarrow blooms tomorrow. I'll have to dry a few
Zinnias mean that spring has sprung, to share fresh air with you!
____________________________________________________
"Spring Is In The Air" Contest Form ..... A to Z (Abecedarian)
3/4/18
there are mountains of snow
outside my window
the temperature is well below
zero
the trees are wearing white gowns
some are like skeletons
reaching for the sky
the sky is winter pale
&the wind is howling
but I am dreaming of Spring
wishing for flowers
herbs like mint&rosemary
growing
in my kitchen window
I can see everything in my mind
the volume of color&hues
daffodils&violas
&painted daisies
in my overflowing garden
a bright sun in a blue sky
fluttering butterflies, bees&birds
the overwhelming variety of
pansies&petunias
oh, I do love nasturium tumbling
bright poppies&coneflowers
&cannot forget the tulips
or forget-me-nots . . .
Reine des Violettes - the rose is Fushia
Love thee - love thee not is the daisy - dreams
Thee dreams of rose petals
Bewildered - are pale
Of thy shades of pink
Called the Belindas
Maggie- she a rose of blossoms too
Petals - so pure - true of dark - be true pinks
The reine DR Violettes
Extroidinaire of aroma
Know thy fragrance
To be of prominence
Marchesa - Bocella - Light sweet the scent
Her fragrance then beauteous
Be - love at first sight!
Ne dawn! Climbs - up the hedges
Pink and ever so true - petals devine
Thee shrub - buds that of an Old Blush
Blushes of thee - How do I love the buds?
Violas are blue violettes
Tis so beauty true
Called penny series
Deep of thee blue hue
"How do I love thee"?
"Let me count the ways" in life
The muse - the prose everlastingly on that rose
The climbers picturesque. plant thy paths
Thee rendezvous of sweethearts , too true.
I loveth the bud and it doth blossom in the prose.