Music Sonnet Poems | Examples
These Music Sonnet poems are examples of Sonnet poems about Music. These are the best examples of Sonnet Music poems written by international poets.
A sonnet to a friend
Lately, every evening, I listen to music on
short clips on the internet
I have not been taking this art seriously
busy as I have been composing unwilling words
trying to create art
How wrong I was not to hear
It is all there, beautiful humanity
in classical form or popular
Suddenly, as my world is coming to an end
the beauty I have missed by not listening to
the love expressed in an instrument or in
A human voice makes me long for more years
Though fate appears a riddle yet unsolved,
Its edges blurred, its pieces hid from view,
By Nature’s grace my worldly needs resolved,
Her gifts like morning rain, both rich and true.
Yet in my heart love’s branches twist and break,
A garden bright but strangely bare of bloom;
Misread affections, words we can’t remake,
Bring shadows creeping through my inner room.
Some pattern weaves itself, unseen, unkind,
A cycle spun of silence, doubt, and fear;
And though my cup is full, it leaves behind
An echo where love’s music should appear.
If heaven grants me every other part,
Why must a puzzle still divide my heart?
As the maestro meticulously draws sound from the strings,
Feelings and sensations the music brings.
A skilled violinist performing with skill,
Can lull your heart and make it still.
The maestro has a story to tell,
And with his violin he tells it well.
Quickly rising with a higher pitch,
Then fallings again as in a ditch.
Bow across strings faster and faster,
A building crescendo by the master.
Then the soothing of a softer sound,
A sense of release the artist has found.
It’s much like life with its ups and downs,
A revealing balance of smiles and frowns.
Like an Axe Used To Split Kindling for Fire
Like an axe used to split kindling for fire,
Her beauty repeatedly strikes at my heart,
Encouraging sparks of desire that inspire
Me to bravely approach her without swagger.
I, in livery, and she, robed in fine cloth,
Comport in accord with that which is proper;
Express youthful, sentimental, foolish tropes,
Indulged in cautiously during our rapport.
Blustery adaptations amuse our spirits
At her pleasure, confident in my prescience.
We play charades insouciantly within limits,
Aware of time and place and our adolescence.
Music warms the heart’s revival of remembrance;
Our minds exploit these encounters with exuberance.
This Cosmos knows all must escape the war.
The sky beckons peace for the Bard's journey,
Hoping there will be joy forevermore.
Music, dance, poetry--art is beauty!
Raise a cheer for nature's forest bounty.
Let's gather memories that are gleeful!
The green woodlands breathe with vitality
And gift to us a rocky pocketful!
Awen drifts through every breath of nature,
Kindling the mind with vivid ideas,
Flying forward to chase the bright future.
Bards guard pure hearts as meek overseers.
Every balm that will make us feel better
Spills from the Cosmos' wildest pleasure!
As the world unfurls
iN REMbrandt's muddy pastel
Little Susie curls her knees
right on cue, credence that
there's clear water here, a
revival of Hawkins and
Burton's swamp spell
When I tried to leave her
dream, she called back:
'Freddy, come save me'
I know that it's cruel to
replace her, though her
night terrors are negotiated,
I awaken her fears
Summer Host a Jamboree
Summer hosts a party – a JAMBOREE!
Sends out engraved floral invitations
Annual pageant ~ ~ ~ blooms wear filigree
Ruffled pansies…deep purple impatiens.
Poppies perform - these highway troubadours
Butterscotch daisies festoon o p e n roads,
Popcorn blooms BuRsT – celebration’s UP-roar!!!
Music :) merriment :), through coral bells flows.
A fiesta of flowers twirl in jubilees
Dandelion meadows - ^_^ galas of golds
Waves of colors sway in sunflower seas
Carnivals of roses in crimsons u n f o l d s
Coming out party - a lavish $oiree -
So much to celebrate each summer day.
With loving hands He sculpted you from grace,
And stringed your heart with finest threads of gold,
Then sent out of His kingdom’s holy place,
For fleeting life to rest in player’s hold.
Bathed in the varnish of the Lord of all,
Your mellow sound unmatched by seraphim—
(Thrice double winged, eyes set panoptical)—
They roar while you with delicacy sing.
Vicerigent I am to concert you,
You— masterpiece of ancient luthier,
Divine Ancient of Days who crafted you,
My instrument and earthly pleasurer.
On loan to me for this brief spell of years,
Before to He takes you back when He appears.
White seraphs sing in four-part harmony
Their hymn a song of hope for humankind
Angelic voices join the reverie
Supernal music soothes each heart and mind
To live each day in light that never dies
To see Almighty God just as He is
To know the secrets hidden from men's eyes
To feel Jah's love and know that you are His
A growing horde promotes belief as lame
Such skeptics only trust what can be seen
These unbelievers' doubts will lead to shame
When Christ returns upon this earthly scene
With eyes of faith we see beyond the veil
With lips of praise we spread the holy tale
With anguished hands, (they lie) his hands in play.
I saw him as a mad, creative type.
In pick of months, his guitar coughs dismay.
The covid creep, his voice would steal, and snipe.
Not in illness, but in rhythm of life’s bore.
For now, his hallelujah brings us joy.
Simplicity and quiet speak; we soar.
In sober strum, the guitar guards the boy.
Give me sweet rhythm’s release - I view the score.
My granddaughter looks on - repast she eats.
He’s saved - a reflection of strings on floor.
From then, until his death, how many beats?
Silent, as flurries land on sad rhythm’s glow.
On Christmas bed, I blink back tears of snow.
Oh! Guitar, what music hides in thy heart,
That awaits the touch of my soft fingers.
As my digit ends move over thee in quiet,
What melody comes, how it my spirit triggers!
Every chord in thee is fastened so tight.
If one is loose, the notes run dissonant.
With thy rhythm n’ melody, thou hold my heart light.
Wonder what sprite hides in this instrument.
As I listen to thy finely tuned sounds,
How I am kept long suspended in time.
To what heights then my wearied soul rebounds,
Making me afloat in celestial rhyme.
Oh music, flood in me to drown my pain.
Can anyone on earth your healing power disdain?
give me the rhythm, a steady heartbeat
birth pangs are closer, the pain on repeat
music comes forth from creatures small and great
fat raindrops drumming,a new age awaits
wind whistles and moans through tall trembling trees
the mountains bow down with weak shaky knees
the heavens look on as stars light the way
one foot in the sea, another in clay
the rhythm picks up, crescendo,climax
water breaks forth as again Earth contracts
we time the pains with excitement and zeal
our lamps full of oil and garden is tilled
Watchmen wake up! we wait for trump seven
new age, new Earth, the Kingdom of Heaven
Thoughts rest as we float into our soul’s nest,
toroidal heart, where throbs soundless thunder,
bliss magnetism humming, deep in our chest,
leaving our presence awestruck in wonder.
At heaven’s gate, all nodes collaborate,
attuned to the pulse of the universe,
the music God makes, which then shapes our fate,
which we sing as a melodious verse.
Spine a harp, on which Divine Mother plays,
illumining our central vein with light,
rapture unbound, that by day and night stays,
inducing spasms borne by bliss beat’s delight.
God’s play divine sublime has but one aim ~
That in timeless time, we become the flame
Crayon Box Dreams started song of my life.
Song sung from carefree innocent childhood.
Mellifluous music, I couldn’t wipe.
That ran in prelude-interlude-postlude.
Childhood passed, entered in adolescence.
World extended, becoming brighter broader.
Life spreading scattering different essences.
Youth showing colourful spectrum in splendour.
Vibrant dynamic youthful days were gone.
Ran sublime serene seniority.
Lost importance in next generation.
Felt misfit holding no priority.
Crayon Box Dreams still calling in last phase.
But all obsoleted : Dragging dull days.
Beat the drum softly, and beat it with heart,
Lay down a rhythm that rises from soul;
Small though indeed is the size of our part,
That which it is, we can still play in full.
Loud are the clashes that crash from the street,
Ominous thunder that thrashes from storm;
Myriad pacing of multitude feet,
Let still not chaos be your inner form.
What is the all but the sum of the small?
Who knows what corner shall matter the most?
Stand for a moment before you shall fall,
Honored the watchman that stands at his post.
Beat the drum softly, your rhythm shall stay
Part of the universe winding its way.