Long Virtuoso Poems
Long Virtuoso Poems. Below are the most popular long Virtuoso by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Virtuoso poems by poem length and keyword.
Letter chosen "V"
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Virtuoso
Carnelian dawn reflects red sun rising,
Mirrors glow of vermillion flycatchers,
With scarlet plumage, so mesmerizing,
Dawn’s songbirds – virtuoso stature.
Flight song resounds through the still morning mists,
Woodland thickets embrace the day song,
Artists on wings with bright feathers flame kissed
Warble sweet aves on garnet birdsongs.
Vigil for daybreak in tones cinnabar
Matins’ maestros in morning’s sung prayers,
Amber strains from coquelicot popstars,
Lauds for the Daystar ring through newborn airs.
Cloaked in vermillion at evening's first light,
Songbirds wait to sing in red-orange delight.
Simply to put text that we cannot cover anything complex
There was a simplified version of every object-- an annex
The loss of everything to put it understandable; loosing context
Was like cutting all of the trees just to portray land like Lorax
Though, where we put things behind the bars is just the manifesto
Everything could be described out and reasoned with a memo
I was warned by Spinoza, that not everything fits out and can be a reductio
So, would a man be reasoning out of everything killing complexity would be a maestro
A virtuoso indeed, to be smart that it leaps every precautionary never stumbled
Wish I was that man to hide complexity, to assign simplicity-- oversimplified
But, I would lose the essence of dopamine in searching question categorized
As I would never understand if short text means something to unconcealed
Form:
Written: June 26, 2023
______________________________________________________________
You, lovely! How you have matured!
A vision of grace, so enchanting and so manured
But alas, Pretty moved out and vanished from sight.
And a youth, too, was kidnapped in the dead of night.
Now that age resides within your once beloved abode,
She has forced your hope chest bowed.
Leaving you feeling betrayed and alone.
Oh, how dare your birthright forsake your own?
Leaving you with wrinkles and gray hair,
Gone is a sight that saw heads turn and souls swoon.
But don't blame pretty or youth, my dear.
What is given will eventually be taken away soon.
Age relentlessly snatches time and grace.
Leaving just vestiges of a dazzling face.
But bear in mind charm isn't just outer skin.
But by the strength and wisdom that lie within.
You may have lost your youthful glow.
However, you have got the brilliance of snow.
Grace, fortitude, and maturity come with time.
A splendor that can't be erased, always sublime.
Embrace the journey that life has given you.
There is still so much more to do.
Though pretty and young may have moved on,
Leaving you feeling a bit forlorn,
You still have the power to shine and inspire.
To light up the world and your inner admire.
So wear your wrinkles and gray hair with pride.
They are marks of a life well lived and tried.
It’s one in the morning.
I zoomed into Lisa’s room
and threw myself on the bed where she lay reading
in a near virtuoso, Fosbury flop.
She bounced, jostled by my mechanical bed wave.
“I hate goodbyes,” I said, indignantly.
“You’re not strong on hellos” she said, not looking up.
“They’re so bone-marrow deep,” I went on, “they steal hope away.”
“Did that sound pretentious?” I asked her silence, a minute later, somewhat self-consciously.
Lisa took the yellow, #2-pencil out of her mouth—just long enough to answer.
When she studies, she chews on them, seemingly eating them like french fries.
“Yeah,” she says, “but I get cha.”
“I know,” I said, smiling at the ceiling, because in a rooted and real way, she always has.
I’d be a different person if we’d never met.
I feel very grateful for that.
“Your boy’s flown?” She asked, using her pencil to hold her page and finally looking up.
It was an ironic, near-rhetorical question, she knows he’s gone and she knows I know she knows he’s gone.
“Yeah,” I admitted.
.
.
Songs for this:
4am by girl in red
Don't Stop The Music by Rihanna
blushing! by BETWEEN FRIENDS
Written: February 27, 2024
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Dwindling diamond daub, an amber
glittering glow
diaphanous verism of glass
and yet…
wreathed in wisteria-washed linden
a glimpse of
moon-pearled butterflies
fluttering beyond
seventh sky
fine shone ivory organza
faintly floats
in flowy grey garment
because...
the mirror failed
to release her
Watch the whispering wind
of crestfallen Luna
serenade sonatas to
the saffron sun,
elegance bewilders as a spell
whilst imbued in
Tuscan fuchsia flowers
plated in opalescent enamel
healing in her
sanguine sanctuary
& silvery smooth skin
she is the spirit of Aphrodite
soaked in ivory color
her tears metamorphosing
of...
ogdoads
daffodils.
Venus waltzing with Earth
zeal of unbreakable bond,
floral fragrance felicity
an ageless love tale
sweet lullaby tweets
billets-doux
texts spanning the world
bien sûr we love
extravagance in empathy
exulansis excluded eternally
hunting for heavenly harmony
swirl in seraphic space
as Dahlia sighs reach
esoteric eyes of lotus Luna
breathing silence
virtuoso ululation
for...
a friendship circle.
12/29/20
"Snow Globe"
Respect the virtuoso
You don't or you know so
Life can be peligroso
People going loco
Humans addicted to chocolate aka cocoa
And the other kind of coco (cocaine)
On a high horse, acting like your the major-domo
Here I am, shaking a snow globe
I failed, I passed and I was so close
I excelled, backtracked and showed no growth
By being a bozo
It was or wasn't recorded on a Go-Pro
Life going up and down like a Pogo
Sometimes wearing Polo
Got my saber like Solo
Staying on the low low
No matter what, I don't need to 'E.T. phone home'
All these women so-so
Always posing for photos
Judging a book by the cover is proto
Days and nights yo-yo
Kept in the dark or receiving promo
She was doing the go-go
Others remained sad or were saying " Ho-Ho"
Unarmed or strapped with a fo-fo
Getting crumbs, a slice or the whole loaf
Obtaining zilch, some or it by the boatload
Close and far from po-po
You are so far from my sole hope
She told me her and I was a no-no
Because I was just a joe blow
Never once phased me, too worried about logos
Not ever going to spend time with me and Toto
Catch you on the flipside girl, since you treated me like a hobo
Will or won't happen near Point Lobos
Having nothing or something to do with Cronos
By the way, shout out to Quasimodo
The Tramp Persona
Who was this boy, a pauper born?
Existing in despair and continual forlorn
Scandalized, accused of communist sympathies
Encompassing both adulation, and social controversies
Charlie Chaplin how can I take you seriously?
Chucklesome slapstick injecting tragedy
Awkward, little mime tugging at the heartstrings
A cathodic empathy he brings
of all those around him, a famous clown
A wiggled walk, a cane, a grin, a frown
The Great Dictator, as plain as black and white
In the struggles against misfortune, the tramp persona typified
A virtuoso kid he found at a hall by chance
A four-year-old child, he saw him dance
A gift he gave to us, a sharing alliance
The Tramp who mastered the power of silence
I was hardly aware of a crisis because we lived in a continual crisis; and, being a boy, I dismissed our troubles with gracious forgetfulness. —Charlie Chaplin, on his childhood
Marylin Monroe “She was a tramp.”
Without her contracts at 20th Century Fox and Columbia (which had both been dropped) who were hungry for denial and headlines. Instead, Marilyn said this:
“I was broke and needed the money.
Why deny it? Tom Kelly’s racy nudes of me
You can get one [a calendar] anyplace.
Besides, I’m not ashamed of it, I’ve done nothing wrong
I was a week behind on the rent and it’s here where I belong
I’d never have done it if I’d known things would happen so fast in Hollywood for me.”
Her candor and honesty charmed everybody
You have this sense of having met a wounded little canary not a peacock. Only when you pick it up in your hand to comfort it … beneath the wounds, vulnerability, and innocence, you find raw strength, and a big heart—I Am Anaya
Lady And The Tramp
A warm and loving story
For dog lovers, in the sense of humor
A carefully nurtured cocker spaniel, Lady
Born in New York City a Baby boomer
Natural beauty overwhelming, a pedigree no vamp
And a rakish, debonair, freedom-loving wanderer
of a dog who wares no man's collar, Tramp
RED DEVILS AND THE BLUES
Who dares to dare the dare devil
Or share the same insurmountable level
Than the deep blue sea?
To break the ledge
More than two lives will merge
After the whistle give 'em the Blues
Instead of a capacity filled with hues
Let them be mesmerized and see blues,
There's never a better time to be knocked so hard.
Hades is hushed as a graveyard,
Empty is the noise that gushes out.
Might wonder what this' all about?
Because all the devils are here:
From the frontline to the goalposts of De Gea,
Zlatan, Pogba, Lingard, Herrera,
All at the Bridge but on errand
By the superfluous acts of the Blues
Who have become the crown-jewels.
A heap of heartbreaking goals
Like the apocalypse rain of coals
To heat up the electric atmosphere,
Even Devils tremble in naked fear.
Tons of misery; magnify their pain
With a virtuoso performance again,
Still silent and handicapped, cripply
No lament until fourscore hit 'em briefly
Like a bolt of lightning,
Don't get flabbergasted even if it's frightening.
Devils of Manchester thumped,
They came, they saw but destroyed,
None survived the unslaught not one could try
Because no place for a Devil in the BLUE sky.
Up Blues!! KTFFH (Keep The Flag Flying High).
VickWizzy
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright © Nov. 2nd, 2016.
A few things you should know about the things I love
like the magic of watching asteroids above
the fact that I was born on Easter Day
the joy of buying a summertime bouquet
off-hours where I quietly sit at a café
talks about our Thousand Islands get-away
matinees at home or at the cinema
chunky fruit in a pitcher full of sangria
the caress of sunshine on my face
success when uncluttering my place
curls of waves unfurling on the sand
the perfect treasure found second hand
long walks along the riverbank
discussions had both deep and frank
bullseye shots that hit the mark
sugar kisses in the dark
a glass of wine to enhance dinner
games where there need not be a winner
coming first and acing all my tests
faeries who live deep in wild oak forests
biting into a big luscious peach
seaglass gathered on the beach
poppies and peonies growing in a garden
maple walnut ice cream begs your pardon
new york cheesecake that's real yummy
brownies that wind up in my tummy
incandescent hummingbirds in flight
nighttime bubblebaths by candlelight
the mystery of butterflies and dragonflies
perfume of lilacs assailing passerbys
glowing moon hanging low up in the sky
a delicious plateful that's exotic thai
a virtuoso playing the piano
the starry night painted by van gogh
hot french pressed coffee shared at dawn
the surge of nostalgia when I hear Elton John
carefree runs across wild meadows
telephone wires lined up with crows
aromas of basting turkey in the afternoon
hotdogs over campfire in the month of june
sunrise burning mist across the lake
wishes blowing candles off a birthday cake
strokes of vibrant greens in watercolour
luscious textiles that utterly feel like fur
christmas tree decorations hung
mango juice upon my tongue
a classy outfit that fits me like a glove
these are just a few of the very many things I love.
AP: 2nd place 2025
when you wanted to give me
you never said for a while
salavic eclipse per epilepsy
test of the taste then a bile
like a swing in the atmosphere's mood
scared earth passionate puke
next the sky seemed to be soothe
catharsis resetting her view
I never held back
like the waves pulling her muse
contractions of zeal moistened hard
supine sand tracing the tune
chaperoned by a virtuoso,
torrent complimenting the blue
undaunted, feigning its strokes
catharsis resetting her view
This mouth counted its syllables
tossed each subsequently
watched them dance dribbles
erected a mood in your feelings
like the wind and tiresome trees
the former a bow from the latter drew
shriek a shudder, tortured trees
catharsis resetting her view
I'll love no more,
feelings transmogrified into glue
like winter firstly to the earth draw
catharsis resetting her view.
19:10:16:14:06
*Note*: A reflection on the French form of Poetry entitled 'Ballade'. Let it not be mistaken for 'Ballad' of tragic attributions.