Long Violin Poems
Long Violin Poems. Below are the most popular long Violin by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Violin poems by poem length and keyword.
Enigma in Flesh and Longing
I am sweet and bitter in the same body, like honey scorched in summer's ember,
A rare blend of warm madness, of molten steel and light too bright to remember,
I am cold as the blade that splits a dream and warm as an April ray of sun,
The eternal feminine that weeps and dreams... beautiful... and fragile... and subtly spun.
I am silent as the ocean's depth when the storm sleeps beneath its face,
And I burst through the world like water between stones... with will... through noise and chase,
I have the eyes of a beast when pain reaches me and the eyes of a fairy when I love with fire,
One man thinks me wicked, another good... and both are wrong... caught in the same desire.
I am a hurricane that overturns the skies and a calm sea on the very same day,
A frightened little child hiding behind a queen with eyes of a dreamer's way,
I am sad as the violin that sighs through deep and answerless nights,
And joyful as the lark across the fields... when my longing hasn't reached its heights.
I am a beggar and a queen on the same throne of clay and living light,
A blade of grass forgotten on the road and a rare flower grown just right,
I change with every season the way the moon waxes white and wanes away,
And no one reads me to the end... no one knows what I have to say.
I am an enigma written in invisible ink on a page of silk so fine,
A book with heavy covers that few dare to open and call mine,
I hide beneath each mask the way water hides beneath a cold and narrow stone,
The woman who conceals herself from being hurt... inside her own feeling... alone.
But somewhere deep inside me burns the very first fire and it never dies,
My contradictions don't break me... they hold me whole... they weave me... they're my ties,
I am complete precisely because I am everything and nothing all at once,
The living enigma... the woman... forever hidden... forever found... and never fully done.
Two trees side by side
Leaves danced together once, interleaved
In the music of the spring air,
All dry and fallen now, uncared.
Branches reached out once, entangled,
Tenderly caressed the blooming flowers,
All broken and bent now, unembraced.
In the twilight gleam
The cracked trunks still glow,
The enmeshed roots not yet dry
Hold each other close, unseen,
Brace the face of storm, they turn into mural wood.
Two figures stand, you and me,
In the falling light of the setting sun,
Become the dust of the golden days,
Covered by decades of togetherness
Don’t blow now in the winter breeze.
The embracing arms once warm and agile
Now petrified by time, unsaught.
Love in the twilight colors still glitters
In the crevasses of our wrinkled faces,
The entwined hearts not yet old
Pulsate to the music of youth, undisrupted,
In life's symphony, we turn into violin.
May 2, 2018
Of all the songs
You seem to be
The tuneless one,
Less subtlety.
God's orchestra
Has dealt a hand—
More toneless rasp
Than golden strand.
I wonder if
You long to be
A star
In morning's reverie.
Do tears well up?
Perhaps that's why
You paddle more
Than flit and fly.
And yet…
I see you
Standing proud—
Such confidence
In every crowd.
You waddle round,
For pictures pose—
Such character
Without a nose.
You dress with style,
All brown and green.
There's pride in how
You peck and preen.
You're grounded,
Yet you float and glide.
No treetop nest—
You strut with pride.
So maybe I
Prejudged your tone—
Less violin,
More slide trombone.
In that, the panoply
Of life
Requires such confidence
Amid the strife.
To show us humans
Not to compare—
Just be yourselves,
Be fair and square.
And when life gives you
Orange sauce,
Puff out your chest…
Just stay on course.
Under your cloak of stars, the restlessness is soothed,
A wave of gentle enchantment caresses my quivering soul,
Whenever your shadow flees from sight, I enwrap you in secrets,
I lock in my canvas of thoughts your smile that reflects within me.
You are the path that bends between playfulness and yearning,
In your arms is the world, sown with wind and rediscovery,
Like a leaf in the play of the wind, I let your spirit carry me,
In the twist of fate that embraces cords of strength at its chest.
On the beach of eternity, my love, you are the storm and the fleeting dream,
The two of us, silhouettes in dance, sing the melancholy of passing times,
In us, silence is an ocean that separates and unites us clandestinely,
Our love is a temple in ruins that rises gloriously in dreams.
Soulmates, in the bitter chess game of the infinite, we were placed,
Unsquashed, always quenching our thirst in relentless searches,
Our pulse is an odyssey marked in echoes of stellar breath,
We love, tossing petals in the wind, without flight to be restricted.
Now I hold you, capturing your essence in me, for later you might be missing,
I lay upon you the hope that tomorrow you will laugh as you do this day,
Every farewell will resound like the cosmic echo of a heart in agony,
And every fiber in me will bleed for every moment without you.
Oh, woman, a wreath of joy and sorrow in his often weary hands,
When you are a sculpture of crystal, then a visage of bizarre pain,
In your odyssey, like a spring, desires will shiver,
The violin minstrel of destinies plays its score on the dance of fingers.
So remain, in the frame of the dream, in this our portrait,
Like the seal upon a metaphor of our ever lively and fervent love,
Take my hand and let's enter the dance, on the meadow of the most beautiful myths,
Woman, in my carousel, with magic and melancholy sweetly interwoven.
If I choose to show my agony to the whole world
I become labelled as an attention seeking nonsense
If I choose to hide it,
Behind self trained glamorous smiles
And behind thousands of 'I'm very well, thank you!'
Why,
I die little by little,
As if,
A drill was being thrust into my soul
Merely to suck it up and to turn it into nothingness!
Pray, in a mad world, running after its own meaninglessness
What am I to do?
Living hurts,
As does the weight of sad violin tunes
Living hurts,
As do shark bites when messed up we are in seas
Living hurts,
As is the sight of seeing those whom we hold close to us
Fade, slowly, into ghosts, till they disappear completely!
Why, if I do choose to open up and say
That I don't find my place here,
As it, being a world where purity is revered not,
Why, am I meant to be labelled as being too filmy?
Is it that things are to be taken lightly
That life is to be lived as it flows towards us
And not according to what we want it to be
As, humans, armed with machinery,
Shall never be able to change the course of rivers,
Being submitted, rather, to fear of itself changing its course
And destroying them, in return!
Why, I merely wish to be there where it has been painted
In those books of holiness
Books, holding the magic wands of life,
Having enough power to soothe our suffering,
Till we merge into it and transcend to where we are meant to!
I merely wish to be there,
But then, without Love's warmth,
Even there would be void
Resuming my happiness to be the state of it
Being consumed by the power of not existing!
My agony makes me who I am,
A being who finds life too painful,
A being who keeps struggling with God to be saved
A being who can only write, hoping that her words,
Or her next ones,
Will soothe her!
Symphony No 9
enter sounds of pianissimo allure
Elysium with piano keyboard pure
floating along Schiller’s poem “ode to joy”
faint piano fingers find her bashful coy
leading emotion along a subtle score
three trombones follow the soft violin strings
choral symphony opus in love with wings
the allegro meter picking up slightly
the master deftly lifts the music gently
leading the way for music to fly and soar
two horns drop to an adagio slowing pace
brass horns bring the B flat for the extra bass
tempo slow leading to a prime horn solo
his genius growing the perfect audio
audience gravely silent waiting for more
bass drums bring in the fourth a big ovation
brass trumpets rejoice the crescendo occasion
its percussion and contrabass swooning artistry
this symphony is art breathing life into poetry
symphony number nine; Beethoven’s life crescendo furore
Tribute to Beethoven’s final symphony when he was deaf
hugely influenced by Friedrich Schiller’s poem” ode to joy”
Reflecting his work in 4 movements building to the final vocal
Crescendo in the 4th movement (increased syllable count per line in final stanza)
Alfred on an Island
I got a phone call a rusty voice said he was Alfred,
But you are dead!
I know, I know the voice told like it meant nothing
I`m at the Saragossa Island you said to me about it is nice
Here but a bit damp and foggy, hence my rusty voice.
a lifeboat that drifted ashore had a ship to shore radio
that is how I`m able to talk to you now.
But how do you get along with rough sailors, and their
salty language, not too bad as you know I play the violin
and they sing shanties and do a jig, I miss the piano though
but it would only rust here and I can`t find a tuner.
I miss you, Alfred, of course, you do I thought how to be cultured
and in a way I`m your father, the real one abandoned you
The voice faded radio interference, but he said he missed too.
He had made my day he remembered me.
The mystique mist
of amorphous ambiguity
shrouds under opaque veil
the penultimate pathway
to the terminal time post
in the cauldron of future,
obscure.
In transient twilight hour
sunset swansong resonates
in the void valley of life,
forlorn,
silhouetted still
against the sunken skyline,
weaving indigo filigree,
melancholic.
Twirling turmoil threads
embroider morbid motif
at the pallid fringe
of passion cloud clumps,
petrified,
surging with sensuous storm
from the onyx horizon,
ornate once with halcyon hues,
rinsing chameleon chimera
ephemeral,
on the yearning canvas
ablaze in cold flame.
From the burnt relic
of memory menagerie
reminiscence ashes
fly away in whirlwind,
unbound.
Splintered shards of hope,
adrift in despondent current
of fluid fervor,
flow in sullen stream
of billion tear drops
in the twilight zone.
The remnant rays
of sublime sunset
shapeshift into strings
of psychic violin,
resonant.
Resurgent orchestra
survives still
behind the fallen curtain,
performs the last symphony
for the lone audience.
The melody of latent concerto
suffuses the listless life
with tuneful echo
of serenading sanguinity,
timeless.
And for my sweet meditation- I am listening to Vilvaldi,
the four seasons concerto, wild and quite dreamy;
and I am soon lost in a daydream of flowing creeks,
singing birds, whimsy and fantasy illusion.
A mosaic, a tapestry, a fresco,
and I am walking this entangled maze;
a labyrinth of green lush vinery,
the moon my illumination.
A spirit guardian leads,
me to a garden;
a place of posy, wild flowers, a paradise, a dreamland,
and a little cherub angel child welcomes me to rest.
It is like Heaven here in this Shangri-La land,
yet my innermost heart weeps;
midnight ink black tears,
for I know this child.
Oh, horrible the memories that wrap me in darkness now,
it is my sister love, lost to death in the web of time;
clouds gather dark, hazy and misty and Vilvaldi plays,
his rhythmic, harmonious violin.
____________________________
February 6, 2017
Poetry/Narrative/A Dreamworld Chimera
Copyright Protected, ID 17- 873-004-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Chimera World
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Third Place
Listen to this song from the deep,
This music played before waters creep,
The strings of my violin weep and weep!
Before we all go to eternal sleep!
Singing this farewell from my heart,
This soothing music before I depart,
You and I, why do we have to part?
Oh! Drown in my musical tears, sweetheart!
You know that I still love you so,
May this tune reach you before I go!
Fiddling for comfort, this last solo,
Keep me in your thoughts, let music flow!
Listen to this song from the deep,
This music played before waters creep,
The strings of my violin weep and weep!
Before we all go to eternal sleep!
Nearer to God, I feel and to thee,
Resting my bow, do remember me,
As long as time does let me be,
I played for God and for you from the sea!
Thanks to my family for your grace,
My love to all with this bow I trace,
As my life's final moments I face,
These notes I play for my resting place!
Listen to this song from the deep,
This music played before waters creep,
The strings of my violin weep and weep!
Before we all go to eternal sleep!