Short Violinist Poems
Short Violinist Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Violinist by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Violinist by length and keyword.
Violinist Eva Mudocci
appears in the 'Brooch'* as you can see
One of many of his models
perhaps they were cuddled as well
A sly violinist named Max
In ethical finance was lax.
He pulled all the strings
To gloss over things
And fiddled his end of year tax!
revised 18.04.21
Spanish Violinist, living as Belgian,
Using the Italian for his collective nightmare:
The Ignored, Disposable Humans who make music
Even after the Nazis, "I Silenti"
She was a violinist, a beauty, a daughter, a wife.
Her playing was gorgeous, steady and melodic.
Everything she does shows her talents and abilities.
She was the quintessential person, aware of others.
Kind, generous, and musical, a winning combination.
There was violinist
He was old and grey
Loved by all but could not stay
He played the violin to the grave
And there the old violinist spends his days
With his love shed in lights of golden rays
For Gean Isenberg, grandfather and friend you will be missed.
I am a violinist with knives
read the scores/scars on my arms
follow the soundtrack of my life in a gallileo symphony
play the cello falls
the flute lifts
the steady beating of a timpony
play my life
play the climatic ending
watch the curtain fall
the audiance clap
goodnight
Form:
The end
So it is all over
ashes to ashes
dying is expensive
not paid for by
the recipient.
The padre was mercifully short
four funerals a day
nothing new to say.
The violinist played Ave Maria
I tried not to cry.
Death is a great leveler.
The empty feeling of the gone.
We had a good dinner and spoke of other things.
ogling the green man - triangle between his nose and the dairy goat
scytheman spoils - dreamy village, ‘cept for the upside-down violinist
green man wears cap and St. Andrew’s cross -
tree of life pinched between fingers
cubist colors - emotive impact, up and down, side to side, frenzy
My heart plays somber symphonies. It plays them exclusively for me. They are fragile and feminine. Breathtaking and melancholy. They perform songs of tragedy and cry out with sorrow but they are perceived by myself alone. Like an isolated violinist in a vacant theater, they are radiant but heartbreaking. My heart plays somber symphonies. Can’t you hear them?
Smile little demons and,
Dance to this violinist tune.
Let your feet stomp on the ground,
And make the earth tremble and sky cry down on your aching souls.
Let your screams be heard,
Like the well played instruments of the gods.
Only maybe then,
Will your chained wings be set free.
Only maybe then,
Will you ascend into your once forgotten paradise.
A violin plays
Softly in the breeze
Its melody floats in the
Air
A lone sparrow flies
Landing on the delicate violin
It turns to sand on the beach
The lone violinist
Weeps
He curses the sparrow
To no longer fly
Causing the sparrow
To wither and die
The violinist cries out
As he slowly turns to sand himself
And is swept into the sea
I did make a wasp gasp
with my splendiferous doggerel
that not even I sit well
with. & a note came from hell
penned in a tongue alien to me...
only the vile violet violinist
understood such oneiric idiocy...
& said it was emetic
& not truly good nor copacetic.
Even September agrees
such is the golden music
that easily delights the bees
& can make a wasp gasp.
She was an orchestra;
Played the violin on her wrist.
Resisting the dance;
Her fervent violinist hips.
Played the cello
Next to her thighs;
Bowing the strings
Of a broken symphony.
Played a solo
From a mournful clarinet.
She played the bass
That led the beat;
The incomplete melody.
She was an orchestra
With a mind of its own.
The beat unspoken,
This symphony of the broken.
As a girl,
I sat at the foot of
A premier violinist…
His music captivated the imaginations of all fortunate listeners
The soulful notes escaped from his instrument thrusting
Into the cerebrum then
On to subconscious, subliminal mind
Heralding that music is no luxury
But a necessity for a charmed existence
As the hail makes love to the streets
I query its vendetta with I
What had I done to be defamed
By such unforeseen chagrin
The sound ‘tis the climax of the horizon
Echoes that of a violinist scarred by sexual mortification
The harmony plays in quite a lovely manner
Could hook one quickly if not careful
Appeased I sit in a wooden, black chair
And saturate in fine rock refrains
A pacifying compensation if I may say
A scripted version of hell
longingly, eyes
look on with lust;
the luster
lavished on
the polished violin -
the Stradivarius
as if
hourglass-shaped.
the sigh of sex
upon
the inanimate,
animated
by man.
the shudder, the gulp
of two bonded
in sin - its possession.
the greed, the tingle
of melodic light,
as the bow mambos
a c r o s s the strings.
the instrument
and the violinist,
necking
and naked. she’s
well-preserved,
reserved for the elite.
Froggie quartet played to the cattails with gusto.
They are so loud and obnoxious! Said a turtle named Husto.
But they leave us alone now, said the flies in the pond.
They were excited to have lived another night into the beyond.
The froggy conductor had a game plan for sure.
He liked messing up the violinist, who had no Covid-cure.
Their singers were Jake and Fred, and they were both pretty bad.
Bringing a horrible concert to the Japanese lily pad.
Tree-finger enchantments
Shimmer pedantic staccato;
Violinist plucked
Long-tails, blue in snow,
Bewitched no longer, frolic.
Embrace Poseidon.
Whisper labyrinths cool to the wake.
East, I see an oblong ship pirouette
Charging from Olympus…on fire,
Shadowy Everests migrate west;
Crisped saltines crumbled by guilt
Whose silent peaks rejoice:
How beautiful the clouds swim in sunrise sky.
2/15/2017
Andre Rieu's a famous Dutch violinist
Started learning violin aged just five
My own personal opinion is that
He’s the greatest violinist alive!
He’s known as ‘King of the waltz’
A conductor and violinist supreme
The moment he plays the first note
Of the Blue Danube, I begin to beam
He plays music all over the world
With the Johann Strauss Orchestra
He owns ‘Ex captain Saville’ Stradivarius
It’s small wonder he’s a super star!
Beauty glows in every bow stroke,
virtuosity beyond compare;
golden notes like dew drops falling
shimmer brightly in the air.
Like larks aloft they hover lightly,
soar like angels from on high;
bring honour to the Lord Almighty,
swell His praise through earth and sky.
'Glory, Glory, In Excelsis,'
with compelling artistry
he raises us to heaven for
a glimpse at immortality.
Author Notes
...for Henryk Szeryng, noted Polish-Mexican violinist.