Long Vocalizing Poems
Long Vocalizing Poems. Below are the most popular long Vocalizing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Vocalizing poems by poem length and keyword.
'Tis melodious music resonant has gone deep,
Tenor cleft trembling audaciously within,
Like sea, audibly searching immensely steep,
Vocalizing many universes therein.
Violin, Xylophone, banjo, bass guitar 'tis befall!
Ambience sensation Ah soothing, pleasing tremor,
Forming audibly, crescendo shift staves squall,
Softens our e'ver stony heart like th' stemmer.
Euphony that's nostalgia intense emotion,
Sounding harmoniously wanting, an' wondering,
Instrumental fortissimo that brings notion,
Stillness, sounding turns resoundingly thundering.
Enthralls our unfathomable emotion, ring,
Induces enraptured soul never before,
Our determination echoes so despairing,
Audacious Phoenix ablaze into bright galore!
What provides comedians the gift of speech
uncensored with lessons that teach?
Their open mindedness provoking ease
undeterred to speak as they please.
How easily the comedic commentary flows
to places typical populace dare not go
and those few who do
too easily are declared hatred spewed.
I cannot judge, it is not my place
and it stares me in the face.
that history can be lost
at freedoms repeated cost.
Today there are so many points off limits
words not to say in any scrimmage;
should they slip out no matter how you pretend
they are deemed words none dare defend;
unless -
race, gender or personage might use them
it's understood, they are free to abuse them.
I'm not prejudiced, no, really I'm not
but every now and then I have to question saying
WHAT? -
some random thought emerges
with a hint of deceptive questioning surges
Can't I reason and ponder
without fear I am on the brink
of vocalizing what I might think.
Comedic relief displays,
the hidden prejudice revealed in wordplay;
for blacks to say the N word is okay and accepted
but for the whites it is hatred protected;
while LBGT communities seek unity
others are not allowed displeasured scrutiny;
your religion is blind faith for Muslim and Jew
should you practice in this state if it's not my view?
how often is it true
that what we say is not what we always do.
Indeed, there are those
who speak hatred in their prose
but not everyone is afraid
to say that freedom is a sharpened blade.
Freedom of speech, the right to bear arms,
Freedom of religion without harm;
the Bill of Rights fought and well payed
too easily fades away on the paper frayed.
George Carlin revealed it all so well
surely those thoughts and images, could not send us all to hell.
“If it’s true that our species is alone in the universe,
then I’d have to say that the universe aimed rather low
and settled for very little.”
In a lovely place paradisiacal,
where the softest showers bring
blooms that open up their petals
and then begin to sing
and shimmer in synchronization,
with undulating hues,
vocalizing for their Maker their
sweet melodious tunes. . . .
is where I saw you first,
fair flower- among that radiant cluster,
echoing your praise
with all the fervor you could muster.
You resided in a spot,
slightly shaded. .. .on the border,
where ornamental shrubbery
lent an immaculate order.
Not amidst the pansies
or the other annual flowers
that glimmer for their time
but need rest at pre-set hours.. .
but there with the stalwart bushes,
unobtrusive in your pose -
A simple classic beauty;
for my guide, I picked a rose.
(For my mother, who is a very spiritual, faithful and modest
woman and a very immaculate housekeeper as well! This poem imagines
that we might select our parents before we are born! by the way, my mom turned 90 this past March 23rd!)
For A Mother's Love, Tributes Of Love For Mother's Day Poetry Contest
Sponsor: BJ Legros Kelley
Angels are the flash during blasphemy gather,
below the shadows, the murky skies, and haze.
Angels are in the center of trials and tribulations.
The evil forces are quiet among God’s messengers
when the wind hesitate, begins later transits firmly-
below the shadows, the murky skies, and haze—
They are heavenly trumpets vocalizing alluringly
above the sky, of the surface of thunderbolt
when the wind hesitate, begins later transits firmly
within our bronchi, beyond our spirits, squeezing
our air-pipes. Our souls are expressing in the nightfall
above the sky, of the surface of thunderbolt
that brighten flashes. In the severe
proposals we restrain, there are no concepts for
our air-pipes. Our souls are expressing in the nightfall
of everything we will not speak, can’t overlook.
Angels are the flash during blasphemy gather,
proposals we restrain, there are no concepts for
Angels are in the center of trials and tribulations.
Halloween
'Tis the time of the year
when death comes to visit
in a friendly way..
In this season we are offered
the experience of death
hidden in laughter of children
dressed in their frightening best
vocalizing: Trick or Treat..!
Perhaps it is a form of an NDE
Near Death Experience
in a community sense..
A tricking of death
exposed in light and laughter..
Experiencing death before we die..
Giving our temporary attention..
But then reflecting:
What else is temporary
and what is permanent..?
Thoughts and perceptions
of course
just come and go..
These mind things rise
and very soon die..
And what remains..?
Life itself remains..and
when we lastly depart..with
our thoughts and perceptions..
Life again simply remains...?
Due to popular belief. I believe that certain things are due to happen naturally.
Like all other things it's bound to grow. This thing, love.
We are due to become obese to this organic, homegrown feeling.
The initial look that begins as taste. Naturally we are starved.
Aroused by the scent that lures us close. This thing, love.
One thing we must learn is self control. To not over indulge in the primary reason it exists.
To selfishly take because it's there. This thing, love.
Effort exudes as it becomes habit. Being placed at a table readily available for what portion comes next.
This need becomes confused with want.
To please others before our need in unselfish manner. A straight forward response to habit.
The rising availability of also being taken for granted. The insurmountable outline that defines lust.
Our intake becomes higher attempting to justify the difference. Thus we become lazy.
Reacting in ways we normally wouldn't. This thing, love.
This scent acts as incentive, instantly attracted by which we over indulge.
Searching for this thing, love.
It's a reasonable thing. Knowing when to reach. When to pull. When to give and sacrifice.
Almost always all of these happen, learning self control, vocalizing when we've had our fill.
Else we will continue to eat until there is nothing left.
Grown obese. This thing, love
Reading Out Loud...
Plus applying index finger as pointer guide
(take that Missus Wells),
who best not take objection, hence let snide
blackboard barbed comment dultifully slide
chalked up and emanating
from gentleman with pride
and prejudice toward third grade teacher,
whose archaic rubric, I no longer abide
when a student at Henry Kline,
he now doth elide
ridiculous bans Boyer Grade School
instituted), who undoubtedly Gracefully yells
from her grave, against these codas long defied
condemned, exorcised, forbidden taboos,
nonetheless tactically helped this pied
piping peter pan, an aging (intellectual baby
boomer bookworm) as his tried
and true knowledge bank account swells
conviction communicating wide
across avast web donning
and/or trumpeting averring,
he always decried
"FAKE" arrogance, conceit, egotism,...
which learning my methodology quells ride
ding high crest of aspiration an aside
to increase cerebral deteriorating multicells,
thus lessening the smarts for suicide
this technique fosters enhanced cognition,
galvanization, pronunciation, et cetera,
whereby vocalizing words,
while ensconced backside
voicing, learning idea
constituting each sentence,
(within figurative nutshells) decide
dutiful dogged diligence involves eyesight,
mandibular interaction
jabbering, sans oral jawbreader divide
aided by vocalization augmentation allows,
enables, and provides groundswells
flowing fun like joyride
with incorporation to hear
nasal twang only downside
syllabification altogether garnering
boost to comprehension outstride
ding learning taking paradigm nationwide.
And like that.
She eased the piece into the groove.
Nestling it close to her lips.
Suddenly her eyes closed,
That horn came to life.
Wide-eyed and bushey tailed.
Stretching it's yawn.
It walked around, journeying to the closest city.
Taking a mid day drive,
Wiping sleep from it's eyes.
It's twelve day noon.
Vocalizing it's croon.
The conflict of working long hours.
Two jobs, a mother of one.
Getting out the bed late.
Trying to remember if she's paid this month's bill or not.
The debate of taking the day off.
Sealed inside it's case.
To sleep the day away.
This weary horn.
With the kid off to school.
She has but a minute.
A loud yawn, the release of stress from a demanding boss.
Every croon loud and long.
A testimony of deep long sigh.
The valves pressed by weary fingers.
A mother of one finds deliverance
Nightfall was here,
The reward for his habitual labor was well on its way,
Storming through borders,
Invading backwards cities,
Collecting pieces and parts,
Digesting human heart.
Suddenly his hot lit eyes,
Spotted an unusual sight,
Her reflection off the quiet lake,
Stifled his appetite,
His nostrils flared exposing smoke,
For autumn’s chill consumed his cloak,
He swept across the trees,
Causing her to feel an abrupt breeze,
She looked around, but noone was there
She knew a presence had snuck a stare,
She continued on her way,
Then felt compelled to pray,
Asking God to bring to her,
A man that would love her so,
Vocalizing that she didn’t care,
If his looks were hard for others to bear,
As long as he could truly love,
And appreciate her like his dove.
She would be grateful,
For her heart wasn’t capable of being hateful,
She prayed the rest of her way,
While this man of the night
Listened intently to every word she did say,
And when she got to her humble little home
She went to bed all alone,
Now the time was half past two,
This beast did not know what to do,
For his night had now become defeated,
For her words had made his will depleted,
He began to weep,
His wounds were deep,
Nevertheless, all that came out were howls,
He became an animal in love that could only let out growls,
The anguish of this tragic story,
He yearned to be held by all her glory,
He proceeded to watch her while she slept in peace,
She was an angel, he was a beast
Then around 6 am
This beauty woke to start again,
When she walked outside,
Her face went white and her eyes grew wide,
Her little house had foot prints all around,
Shaped like hearts but marks from a hound,
A message from a tormented slave,
Someone not even her love could save.
By:Sabina Nicole
Contest: wolfman in love
10-8-11
Applauding an Acrostic Aria
Bopping to a Ballade Ballet and Blank verse Berceuse
Clapping to a Cinquain Cantata and Couplet Chorale
Dancing to a Dizain Duet
Exalting in Etheree Etudes and Elegy Ensembles
Frolicking to Free verse Folk songs and Footle Foxtrots
Galavanting to Ghazal Gavottes
Humming harmonies to a Haiku Hip Hop
Inhaling Italian sonnet Instrumentals
Jiving to a Jueje Jig
Keeping time to a Kyrielle Khaliji*
Lolling to a Limerick Lullaby
Marching to a Monorhyme Minuet
Napping to a Narrative Nocturne
Ovations for an Ottava Rima Overture and Ode Opera
Praising a Pantoum Polonaise
Quieting my quarters with a Quatrain Quadrille
Rollicking to Rondeau Rondos and Rhyme Royal Rhapsodies
Singing to Sonnet Sonatas and Sapphic Stanza Symphonies
Tapping toes to a Triolet Trio and a Tanka Tango
Unwinding to an Urban Sonnet Unison
Vocalizing a Villanelle Villanella
Whistling with a Waltz Wave Waltz
eXulting in Yaltos and Zikets
// Lines consist of a verb, a poetry form, and a musical form //
*Khaliji = modern contemporary music of Central and Eastern Arabia