Short Violas Poems
Short Violas Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Violas by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Violas by length and keyword.
A reproductive structure in force
Sunflowers as tall as a giant
Pansies and Violas borders the garden
The magnetism of nature with the help of green fingers
Presents a corsage of wonderful blooms.
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
Tucked into the crease in Hudaibiyah
Coming out the knuckles
Treaty of womb
Religious autonomy, prerequisite
Freedom
Violas with the chunky melody
Whosoever heareth the sound
They glory in the truth
Maledom
Trumpet measures white gown
Treaty of negotiation, bodily autonomy
Femdom
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.
Sunday Afternoon
Never a more beautiful day,
Marvel upon marvel of
The grace upon grace
Which God sends.
Pieces of heaven,
I know he has prepared.
A symphony of birds,
Basses to lyric sopranos,
Lawn mowers adding
Deep sounds of low violas.
Soft harmonies soft thunder, soft rain,
A peacefully sleeping Pekinese,
Contentment in the kitchen.
The scent of chocolate chip cookies…
With my love.
Sun sets, stars sparkle, sliver chimes tingle
Yielding to an oboe's lonely minor key pleading
Moonless sky's dark deepens, bassoons, moan
Piano notes lightly dance, stars flirt and twinkle
Harps and violas, lovely late-night companions
Over the hills cymbals clash as a flash storm rages
Neon-white flares, heralding trumpets boldly blare
Yellow-gold dawn, blue joys sing, a flute abides
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...