Long Wagner Poems
Long Wagner Poems. Below are the most popular long Wagner by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Wagner poems by poem length and keyword.
Sometimes, we need, Mozart, some violin
Of a sonata, of a joyful concerto,
Sometimes, we need Bach, his genius
A cello concerto, a cantata,
Music, it is known, softens morals,
Sometimes, we need, Wagner, Berg,
A ride, a charge of the Walkyries,
We need Brahms and his symphonies,
Sometimes, we need, Sibelius, his genius
His symphonies are treasures under the snow,
Sometimes, one needs, Mozart, Debussy,
We need a clarinet concerto, or a sonata,
Music, it is known, softens morals,
Like the sea, and distant voyages,
Sometimes, we need, Bach or Schumann,
To find peace, to distance one’s sorrows.
“Go west young man”, the neighbors said; but they wisely stayed at home.
From pianoforte to pianoforte, saloon to saloon, town to town I roam.
Surrounded by Phillistines, “soiled doves”, cowpokes, and dullards,
Gamblers, dealers, dance hall girls, and other assorted drunkards.
If a fellow’s feeling generous, he might leave something in my jar,
Or even offer me a drink of the “good stuff” behind the bar.
I guess my fortune can be made where folks are hot, dry, and thirsty,
Playing sad songs on old pianofortes that are musty, dusty, and rusty.
I grew up playing Beethoven, Chopin, Bach and Wagner.
The only songs these cretins know are all by Stephen Foster.
A gambler in a pink silk shirt once asked for a Franz Lizt tune.
I was so surprised, I fell off my chair, to the amusement of the room.
The “faded rose” smells like a horse, and looks the worse for wear.
But if a few more drovers buy me beers, I probably will not care.
If I should wake up next to her, I won’t know what to say.
But she’ll just pretend to be asleep as I quietly slip away.
Through hazes I might recognize a face; or maybe they all look the same.
But in town’s like Rotgut, last night’s best friend won’t remember your name.
I hope someday, somewhere I’ll find a good pianoforte in tune--
But that’s something I’ll probably never find in a one-street town saloon.
If they don’t happen to catch my name, “Eighty-Eight Fingers” will usually do;
That’s all any of them remembers anyway, after they’ve had a few.
Yesterday, I soared with the wind
Today, death and I dance entwined in a slow waltz
Somber mood as bright lights shine above
Wagner in the background of semi-consciousness
Looking up at tubes, needles, wires and the reaper
Faces staring down, heads shaking in doubtful sadness
Onwards we roll, battle of the bacterium
Ensuring, I, wake only in hazy delirium
I reach out into emptiness
Grasping for the significance of it all
Falling into an existential black hole
Loveless, alone, is this to be my last stroll
Illusions and dreams creeping back into my soul
Hearing songbirds, will life have another go?
The winds roar once more inside my head
I stand up, with a smile, I am alive! Not dead!
Life has infected me with a fresh kiss
I freely admit I love classical music,
And please don't think me a snob
If I keep my composure
When I mention composers
As Beethoven, Mozart, Tchaikovsky, and Schumann,
And not Ludie, or Wolfie,
Or Petie, or Bob.
And a symphony simply cannot be enjoyed
At just any old time of the day.
I can't listen to them
Prior to seven p.m.,
And I don't mean to brag, but I couldn't be dragged
To a Wednesday or Saturday matinee
Of a ballet by Bizet or Massenet.
My taste in classical music, you see,
Is eclectic, but not meant to shock.
I choose Strauss for the schmaltz
Of a polka or waltz,
And Chopin is my dude when I crave an etude,
But I do tend to doze in my seat in the loge
Through an opera by Wagner…
Or more Offenbach.
Everette E. Hill
1899-1915
Tyrus Cobb of the Tigers.
Honus Wagner of the Pirates.
To simply see those two hit a baseball,
Well, that would have made my last day alive, worth living.
To watch those two run the bases, like crazed jackrabbits,
Well, that would have made my death, worth dying.
To see those two heaving a baseball ninety feet,
Like General Washington pitching that silver dollar like he did,
Well, that would have made my entire life, worth repeating.
“Oh Tyrus and Hons! American deities indeed!
I call forth your honored spirits in respectful homage!
I summon you both to this invocation of the baseball gods!
Come forth ye warriors of the American Diamond!
Show us please your grip and your glove. Each!
Show us please your stance and your swing. Each!
Kindly know sirs, that we shall relish with fervor,
Your tales of the great games, and the long-ago seasons.
We shall nod in agreement to every word you say! Each!”
Indeed! I remember those two the most, while alive.
Tyrus Cobb of the Tigers,
Honus Wagner of the Pirates.
He gave us everything,
The sandy beaches, innocent,
The azure to write our thoughts,
He gave us everything,
Volcanoes that project ash
On any thing or animal,
The ocean from which everything was born,
He gave us everything,
The limits of our intelligence,
Those of the squaring of the circle,
Mathematics to understand the universe,
To seek the truth of the stars,
He gave us everything,
The rain that makes rivers grow,
The rice paddies to grow rice,
Oxygen so that the sheep can breathe,
Dinosaurs and swordfish,
Continents to build cities,
He gave us everything, whales,
Eagles to fly over the mountains,
Baobabs, and giant sequoias,
The music of Wagner and Sibelius,
A spirit to dream at night,
To build pyramids in Egypt,
He gave us everything, fertile plains
Women so that we never get bored,
Churches for us to pray,
Rhinos and elephants,
Emeralds and sapphires, diamonds,
The light from which all life is born,
Sunflowers and rhododendrons,
The atolls of the Pacific, California,
The sun that holds nine beautiful planets, in a vacuum,
He gave us everything,
Billions of galaxies,
The complex nature of time and cords,
Why don’t we name him,
God or otherwise, Zeus or Buddha,
To name is to give hope to the rhododendrons,
to the smallest of ants,
It’s giving honey to the buzzing bees,
to enlighten the unfortunate and the mad. It is to admit that
Whatever we do, he will have the last WORD.
She talks incessantly of Opera,
my nervous systems not listening,
it’s desperately trying
to connect to her voluptuous body,
neural cells hum like eclectic cars.
I cannot think at all of Mozart or Wagner
I am mesmerized by her sexuality,
even more so
as we are alone in a rushing crowd.
Incurious commuters hurrying
to catch impatiently waiting trains.
She knows, of course she knows,
women always can sense
that moment
when the drama and tension
gets musically explicit.
I am wondering
if we will get to the third act,
or will we run out of erotic steam,
jump the shark right here and now,
leave with a weak wave and
a promise?
Like this, the music crescendo's,
or indecisively dies
with a much truncated ‘goodbye’ aria.
It is a beautifully warm and sunny day.
Here in the pleasant spring month of May.
It is the month's very first Saturday.
It is here in this place, I am to marry Elaine's daughter.
The church is full of flowers in each corridor.
The organ plays the melody of Richard Wagner.
What I see next is such a lovely sight.
My Stephanie draped in her gown of white.
She appears as a lovely delight!
Standing alongside of me,
she appears a bit misty,
as the priest begins the ceremony:
Dear family and friends of Michael and Stephanie,
we've gathered to witness these two in matrimony.
Michael, will you take this woman Stephanie to be your wife?
It was quite a long time for me to wait for this day.
However, it has arrived, and here is what I say:
You now stand before me. In your sapphire eyes I see,
a sparkling of unending love between you and me.
The joining of our hands exemplifies unity.
Symbolizing relationship in complacency.
Our universe continues to unfold endlessly.
Each star’s light shines upon us until eternity.
As we both live, they shall guide us on our life’s journey.
May we both come to share in a plentiful harvest.
As He looks down on us, and makes us forever blessed,
May we come to share happiness, until final rest.
Now mutuality is considered coalesced.
Stephanie, will you take this man Michael to be your husband?
I love you because you are special to me
In everything you do
You make me laugh
And touch my heart with your kindness
Your words expressed so lovingly
All I want to do is be near you
I want to feel your arms around me
Holding me close to your heart
Now take me on this journey
As we unite as one
For the rest of our life
To be with you
Is like music
That enters my heart
Soft and gentle in you’re loving ways
You came to me from afar
Showed me how to give love never ending
And receive it back
Completely surrendering
Tonight a thousand stars will look down on us
And Angel’s sing
Of our great love
A kiss from heaven is sent
It enters our hearts
Our souls have touched
Never to part
My love I give to you
As pure as the snow
Take it my love
It’s a gift from the heart
To remember this day
Until death do us part
By the power invested in me
by the Diocese and State's authority,
I proclaim Michael and Stephanie
in the bond of Holy Matrimony.
May you live and grow happily!
Pride and Prejudice A Dog’s Tale
Simply scratching is really not fair
said King Kong to the mut in his lair
you’ve laid down with me’s
and I’m covered with fleas
Now, Fay Wray will end our affair!
Oh well, said the pink Pomeranian
Find a pet, a bit, more pedestrian
Let sleeping dogs lie
too near to your thigh
or go for a prize more Wagnerian!
Brunhilda you see cares not if you’ve fleas
for horned helmets has she’s for releases
She’ll scratch your back
when fleas attack
That Fay Wray lacks tact and she sneezes!
~Lie down with dogs, wake up with fleas
~~Let sleeping dogs lie
*The 1933 original version of King Kong
stared actist Faye Wray as the apes girlfriend.
**A pomeranian is a long haired German dog.
***Wagner is a German composer who wrote The Ride of the Valkyries
Brünnhilde is one of the eight valkyrie sisters, commonly seen
in horned helmets who bring souls to Valhala.
A Second to Work
With a hand that ostensibly
Caresses a fingerboard and bow gently,
Yet really holds with force,
Holds with vim and plays with vigor
The strings stretch and impart their somber discordance,
Turns out Wagner tunes into self,
Turns on raw terror, awe and fear
Awe with sorrow intermingled, the soul knows the notes no words can effect,
They tap the ear— touch the soul,
And Oh,
To play second fiddle
And fiddle with time, as the tune pours out,
A cosmic symphony that Wagner knew and shared with you,
That Nietzsche wrote
That I know,
That to be second to
To know the seconds in time
Lost to frivolous pursuits
To know that we have all but toil,
And work cursed to toil
And labor eternal under a relentless desiccating sun
To know that love comes second,
to toil
is the saddest condition of man.