Short Cello Poems
Short Cello Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cello by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cello by length and keyword.
The cat with her cello sat on the street
To meet and greet folk with music so sweet
It was no surprise
She brought tears to eyes
With her ‘Elgar's Cello Concerto’ treat.
your melody sang in me
the mystic timing arose
night time air sending chills
beneath me the nightingales
danced a mild manner ballot
as the cranes bowed their heads
moving me despite the quiet rain
the daunting task the calming pain
Mrs Yolanda Nicholsen
Cello Seduction
A brief glance toward the audience,
She closes her eyes and begins to play.
The maestro sat astride her Cello,
Sonata in C Major carries me away.
Ordinarily I don’t listen to classics,
But the sound of a Cello enchants.
So, as I listen to my virtuoso lady,
Her music seduces me in trance.
Her soft expressions forever changing,
As the leaves of autumn do.
A sweet voice forever crooning,
Under a favorable moon.
Smooth, polished, delicate to my taste,
Her soul confident of the notes that shall be found.
Enjoy her splendor this nightly morn,
For when dawn arrives,
This sainted music may have gone.
Form:
Limericks not rude
Can I write a limerick not rude
Deep down I'm really a prude
limerick is done
compiling was fun
Oops! Been writing whilst I am nude
I Can
A gentle young Austrian fellow
Played both piano and cello
both instruments antique
his talent unique
Produced tones so calming and mellow
A cello played
somewhere in the background,
some somber, durable tones and color,
invoking prayer, calm, contemplation, remembrance;
a string effigy
solemn, melancholic dreams
calling to mind
the search for more than what is seen;
a play on notes
of time and memory
of hope and promises
of what may yet be.
Sorrow climbs
its roofless tower
Descends to be thigh deep –
genitalia deep.
Now it has the weight
of rain clouds.
A smoked umber
moves through
an invisible throat.
Fine hairs
are stroked to arousal.
A drowning wrist
above a whirring hand.
Pressure rubs saturated sounds
from probing fingers.
The belly of a curving drum
thrums, moves us to a place
where nothing matters
but the next note.
Sorrow climbs
its roofless tower.
Descends to be gut deep,
genitalia deep.
Now it has the weight
of rain clouds.
A smoked umber
moves through
an invisible throat.
Fine hairs
are stroked to arousal.
A somnambulant wrist
pushing a whirring hand.
Pressure rubs saturated sounds
though probing fingers.
The belly of a curving drum
thrums, moves us to a place
where nothing matters
but the next note.
A D
e
e
p L
o
w V
o
i
c
e Sometimes SCREAMING
Sometimes whispering
But always going deep into your soul
Form:
Skirt hiked up
legs ungracefully spread,
sexually inviting.
The cello drums her,
blind angels
gyrate in a deep darkness.
The cellos voice is her own,
her body sings through
one hollowing mouth.
I am mesmerized by her closed eyes,
her moon drenched emotions.
The bow is low
it nudges me somewhere,
there is no name for that place,
it is somewhere inside a sadness,
a cavern of fading echoes
where joy waits
to be noticed.
Howling at full moons
behind empty branches
in full view of empty tombs
of ancestors in full bloom
Slide your elflocks to the side
while I feed eldritch butterflies
the honey wine that made man divine,
lei guardato il gattopardo’s disguise
*
Rapt cranberry wrapping callipygian peaches,
entrancing crenellations, pergola features
I couldn’t leave you, my favorite weakness
When magenta sunsets broke
across your cello silhouette,
you signed your life to me