Long Violins Poems
Long Violins Poems. Below are the most popular long Violins by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Violins poems by poem length and keyword.
That one lost their tongue
somewhere along the way
long ago, the sound,
doesn’t come out the same
anymore, so they roll it up
like a carpet containing
a nakedly dead body
of blunt words
like unplucked violins
untuned to how it all
really works
begging to be heard,
and the flowery prose,
purple and bruised
like over-ripe fruit
teeth rottingly sugary sweet,
is now seen
day-in-and-night-out,
struggling with ease
way too much
like madness overgrown,
the dense overgrowth
of language unspoke
hides glittering gems
blushing shamefully
more exquisite than
the now daily averies
all penned in babel
that flow in glass jarring
anticipated patterns
of suffocating
paisley prose,
the simple beauty
in the plainly spoke,
never again
to be seen nor heard,
the mercurial metaphors
birdfeed scattered
to the begging migrations
of petulant bluebirds
naughty nightingales
honey trapping
wet-beaked hummingbirds
all beating hearts
with their wild wind flapping,
tossing sticks and stones
to those tongue thirsty
kiss lapping, lap dancing
love parched, gargling
swallows
Candide Diderot. ‘24
Accordion, keyboard for the Highland Fling
Bell, an idiophone in percussion sing
Clarinet, of woodwind joys
Drums, so loud for the noisiest of boys
Ektara, from India the one stringed piece
Fiddle, of old in toe tapping increase
Guitar, my favourite for Rock n Roll
Harmonica, blues my soul
Ipu, from Hawaii for Hula dancing beats
Janggu, a drum used in Korean traditional treats
Kettle Drum, in thunderous pound
Launeddas, from Sardinia, used in ceremonial sound
Maracas, rumba shakers as we cha cha along
Nyckelharpa, from Sweden playing fiddle type songs
Organs, of many in musical bloom
Piano's, elegantly classical grace any room
Quatro, so Latin, played in many a place
Recorder, in schools where many a pupil embraced
Saxophone, that solo in " Baker Street "
Tubular Bells, made " Mike Oldfields " album complete
Ukulele, from the guitar family
Violins, assembled from species of tree
Washtub Bass, graces American Folk
Xylophone, musical wooden bars, the trees have spoke
Yu, of ancient China now no longer used
Zither, all the above in my orchestra, my music is fused
My entry into Deborah's " Do You Know Your ABC's? " contest
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-3.php
Oh My Charming Valentine
All moonbeams that there's ever been
Silver stars in sky that sheen
Nothing compares, nothing it seems
To those eyes of yours that gleam.
Sounds of a thousand violins
Melodious birds on wings
Nothing compares, as our romance
Stirs my heart to sing and dance.
Pretty emperor butterfly
Colours pleasing to the eye
Nothing compares, for you my love
Raise my soul to soar above.
Rows of appealing daffodils
Swaying upon windy hills
Nothing compares, since only you
Can thrill me the way you do.
You're too resplendent to be true
There’s no one could replace you
Be mine, be mine till close of time
Oh my charming Valentine.
* * *
14th February 2021
Valentine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
Composed, he walks towards the podium.
At first to applause, until a hush forms.
His heart beats like a water pump,
sweat drips - eyes fixed at his ensemble.
Audience anticipates,
as he stands at the nexus of musical creations.
With a brief glance - nods and closes his eyes,
baton in hand and a flick of wrist,
an oboe penetrates the silence,
violins trill and bass begin to roar.
His empathy connects with each note,
as his wand moves to the tempo,
conjuring symphonic magic,
softly then dramatically,
as emotions ebb and flow,
like waves weaving solo tones.
Spectators lost in imagination.
Gradually the melody flows faster,
as trumpets and trombones blow.
He feels a sharp pain in his chest,
as his pores drip like little rivers on his lips,
but he still guides the harmonic mood
with precision and clarity.
As the horns blare and percussions echo,
he loses grip of his baton - falls onto his knees,
clutching his breast - the music stops,
pianist plays her last key - audience gasp
he falls to the ground - curtains close.
Somewhere on a beach, there are lovers
umbrellas shade their secret kiss
the ocean serenades
and as the salted mist approves
their passion never fades
Somewhere, there’s a table, set for two
with violins and candled glow
a question to invite
a ring in pocket hopes to jewel
a bride dressed all in white
Somewhere, on a golden wedding cake
a couple speaks to memory
still with hand in hand
and guided by a love so true
all perils to withstand
Somewhere, there’s a love forever yours
it lives alone as you don’t know
we are so far apart
If I could only tell you now
that it lives in my heart
We could smell blood everywhere.
Sitting crouched against white,
Lifeless marble,
Our violins to our chins
As crusted black blood
Stuck, pleadingly,
To our music sheets.
We were to summon beauty in hell;
To compel the murderous to tears
And the dying back to life, but,
I could smell blood everywhere.
My heart gave out in a
Lurching throb.
My bow swam against the hair
And I, in mind, among the countless wasted.
This could happen anywhere.
And this happens everywhere.
Beauty in hell.
The fount of flowers in the black.
The smoldering sickness
Against sweet-lacquered intentions.
Blood is everywhere.
As we hunt blindly, stupidly,
For the grace of gauze.
Of Romance she told me
as long as it was with you
who am i to argue
it's the way to keep it
right with you
Promised you the world
try to myself
it needs some collaboration
you and I together
truing and trusting
keeping our thang together
aint know selfishness
it's all about you and I
coming together
to be as one
lover to lover
freind to freind
you're my woman
I'm your man
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String-laden songs often feature lush,
arranged or intense string sections
(violins, cellos, orchestral arrangements)
that enhance the emotional weight of pop,
rock, and ballad tracks. Iconic examples range
"You and I"
to
"We as One"
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Flower gardens glow in natures grasp
as ink flows to pen
setting free emotions
happiness or disrepair
There will also be the brute
wearing robes of biblical sheep
Fooling not the serene, wisdom shall prevail
Teeth in flesh may draw blood and tears
Triumph comes from wisdom and truth
ignorance, one days runs out of blotters ink
selfish minds will never swim
the oceans of the human heart
Those who sing dear lullabies
while stealing babies in the night
slavery lives in such darkness
lets illuminate what is gratuitous
When the night falls from the sky
and morning makes its way
enjoy the sunrises tranquility
before silent crimes, murder butterflies
Fall not for soothing evil tongues
of ancient Babylon
violins and lyres
musicians bringing peace to human reverie
It was dusk when she came slowly across the snow,
dusk was in moments and she was ready;
her big snowshoe feet made her steps steady,
her eyes saw a rabbit and she crept forward low.
She had mated as snowflakes floated in the trees,
and in the spring her babies would be born;
she made a hidden nest of branches torn,
and had to eat for her babies all she would seize.
Her home was a cold northern forest protected,
no longer was she prey for the fur trade;
yet her fear of humans will never fade,
now, laws allow Lynx to never be neglected.
In a leave strewn nest the utter of a low mew,
four small kittens wailing like violins;
and new life is created and begins,
but nature is so cruel and four became two.
In the forest there are so many preying shades,
and she must leave the nest to hunt rabbit;
for at dusk this is her normal habit,
when mother returns there is blood on the green blades.
The forest has many eyes seeking and waiting,
and not all the baby creatures survive;
not all the Lynx population will thrive,
this part of nature, I will always be hating.
___________________________
January 23, 2019
Poetry/Enclosed Rhyme/The Forest Has Eyes
Copyright Protected, ID 19-11107-449-02
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Enclosed Rhyme
sponsor, Emile Pinet
Fourth Place
Dear God support me to the end
insatiable foe never a friend
Forgive me for my sins,
an expression of my violins
I chose a rocky road
inappropriate on a postcard
Scared and so full of sorrow
but always a hope for tomorrow
Save me from my need
control my deeds
Amen
22/12/2020
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
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