Short Cellos Poems
Short Cellos Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Cellos by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Cellos by length and keyword.
the rain is tapping the window tap tap taapp
the rain pating the roof pat pat ppaatt
like a gazillion violins violas & cellos
our very own orchestra,for free.
by,ehlana lingerfelt
Guitar
Violence
Chelo
Chello
Did we say
Cellos!
Ah ooh vhee
Tah; ah ooh
Vhee tah!
Brasses
The night
The saxophone
Call the women
Of need
Speak her yours
That she refuses
Your affections
To make myth of
You as we laugh
Evily,!
Days spent
limping down
piano keys
and knocking
on cellos
covering my body
with the sheet musics
he left
convinsing myself
a tune is ment
for me
somewhere
played lonely and soft
like Gymnopedie No 1
embracing
a leftover summer night.
© Gry W Christensen
my guitar strings
were tightly wand
as I leaned against
the cellos hard surface
clinging hopelessly to the fullness
of a familiar tune bellowing
from a charming piano dazzled
I was softly moved by the harps
descant chanting upon
thee unveiling of the violins
motionless melody creating
a sensational fluttering of bees
beneath the echoing shallow
breaths of my panting lures
Clarinets, bassoons, oboes, ugh.
Flutes, oh, yes, Native American flute music please.
Violas. Don’t be prissy!
Cellos. Ha. Ha. Who wants to carry one to school?
First and second violins. Too stringy. Twangy. Hurt my ears.
Trombones and tubas. Oh, yes, please.
Now for my all- time favorites besides the guitar.
Drums
Cymbals.
Bam.
Crash.
Boom
Bam
Give me percussion or do not give me any music at all.
Only at Christmas, God knows why
Pleasing everyone, you take the cue
Quick, just one more gift to buy
Really, did you think you were thru?
Sweaters, socks and fancy hair bows
Teens always looking for new clothes
Ukuleles, drums for the young ones
Violins, little cellos just for fun
Why did you ever buy such loud toys?
Xylophones, drums and all the noise
Yearning for it all to end and then
Zooming in, let the fun begin!
rubbing our legs
together we
can make
fire or at
least
we
can try hard enough
to get a spark but
musically we
are two
cellos
in
the throes of a score
with a difficulty
that can only
be matched
by crickets
chirping
in harmony with the dark
of a new moon soon
to sound in tune
to climax and
at that exact
moment
in this symphonic
movement we
light and lift
ourselves
to jump
into
the
air
as
fireflies
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.
An orison to hope
Shattered into smithereens
Its keened tongues and teeth gnash and lament
A despairful cry of a cutthroat womb.
Cacophonies cry out
Cellos and violins bow, inexorable and unforgiving
Until then, of their finale the southern bells will ring;
A testimony that God has returned.
Savior of humanity,
Entwine us with arms that bleed
For those arms' warmth and nurture
Extricates us from a demise with a lamenting dissonance.
I balanced on a crescendo
as the reverberation of cannon
glanced off my chest and
orange chills ran across my back.
While, as if birthed by the composition,
warm and cool colors danced in the sky
and back, from the now dull red horizon.
I sat, as cellos and violas
seemed to lift a Prince and Princess -
then flutes and violins tossed them high
on bright and light notes 'til
landing on a bassoon's breath
where muscle and sound lay
softly still...