Mozart Poems - Poems about Mozart

Austrian-born composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart learned fast and young to be prolific in his art. Famous for nearly four centuries now throughout history, he left the world at age 35, his death still a mystery. ...

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I soar, looking down at a daffodil hill hovering, then I fly on the wind within a forest cathedral dome and to meadows of lovely wildflowers then, to a high cliff where I depart . . . floating in my reverie the music capturing my soul and I am in a sublime trance spinning, twirling whirling . . . to Mozart...

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CHAKRAS BOLD HE designed root red via a laugh so raucous creating world wild rumbling random rubies rolled ruling red thunderous winds whirling shimmering shocking floods Emperor Supreme spearing stimulate Mother channels birthing babes to cuddle sword sheath bloody red is my beneath ! HE designed my womb occult oracle orange oceanic openings obliging receive that...

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The world has gone mad and it’s on our watch! The world has gone crazy and humanity’s in a ditch. Leaders for money, power and wealth. Leaders for people… don’t kid yourself. We’re looking at a future that has played out before. We’re being driven against eachother because there’s so much profit in war. Billions of lives that don’t matter at...

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Notes float, invisible waves Crashing over our consciousness Mozart's melodies tip scales in our heads Unlocking doors we didn't know existed Thoughts stretching, tension building Music breaks chains of the mundane Time shifts, stress runs Life finds its groove Fast, and slow, our minds race and rest Electrons dance through neural pathways Sharpened focus cuts through doubt We...

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Always been creative in one form or another It's definitely what turns my crank Sometimes I wish I could turn it off but no dice Been blessed with this very active mind Which can actually be a real curse At times I'd just like to kick back Put my mind in neutral and let the world go by I think they...

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Written: February 13, 2023 ____________________________________________ An anathema for, pilose nettle burns, an art form of unstable feathers, tropes across the ivory cuticles. Melted mascarpone in a figurine, pearlescent obsidian, hooping sapped spirit, sight of the blue sky. within her boneless flesh, the artist grumbles severely, in a strained, velvety voice, jumping into the air. Prima picture goes away, with...

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Always been creative in one form or another It's definitely what turns my crank Sometimes I wish I could turn it off but no dice Been blessed with this very active mind Which can actually be a real curse At times I'd just like to kick back Put my mind in neutral and let the world go by I think it's...

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Do electricians ever become DElighted? Did Mozart ever DEcompose? Are politicians sometimes DEvoted? Can students become DEtestable? Are Egyptians sometimes in DEnial? Can garden workers become DEflowered? Once chosen can someone be DEpicted? Do animals ever get DEtailed! Can an engine receive a DEmotion? Shoe salesmen are sometimes DEfeated! Are tennis players ever DEserved? Do former journalists become DEscribers? Do exterminators ever get DEbugged? Are fishermen great DEbaters? I've...

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a coat of stars on a shiny night you wear and thrive in #'s (almost) everywhere Mozart taught you to sing everything recite poetry and greet those who stumbled in you are precious to me yet so hated they patent your name for poison and rage Starlicide now half of what you were your murmurations still smoke the sky just not here this year my dear my darling Starling...

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Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart never put the horse before he cart Vituoso of symphony opera& song 'til Salieri came along...

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"Mozart's music is so pure and beautiful that I see it as a reflection of inner beauty in the universe." ...

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Because you must have romance I will make breakfast pouring jasmine tea arranging Clementine’s and grapefruit onto sky blue plates. Because you must have music I will call for Mozart's little bird. I will summon the great hook-beaked seafaring gulls to protect our pillow-talk. Because you need a little fantasy, we will spend the day painting eyes on butterfly wings. We will seek out only those natural gems that can be...

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My friend, why have you spun out of joint? Or am I now cross-eyed? Is one of us running out of rhythm? Or both spinning in circles? Why is everything I say just a question? Can I speak or write a statement? Would you play Beethoven, or shall I put on Mozart? Is this not something I ask you? So why should this be...

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The sunlight was a bright coolness- the sun itself- a shiny buttercup tossed, its petals plucked and spread silently upon the campus, and slung into an apartment through unwashed windows, slicing a chicken-egg -hued interior. And within the sunlit dwelling, sat obesity-female- graceless but so...nice, who desparately thought that day to appeal to the Spring-lit noon!  The cold light,  commixed with the unwanted (and unsolicited)burn(s) of a sexual violence had grabbed the unattractive entity as it always does, and...

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