Spiccato Poems | Examples


List of Member Poems

Premium Member Serendipity Sublime

viridescent  wrench
adventitious
sparks  prompt
       yet
cloned camouflage 
for psyche
rue’d quandary
withered  wisps
   nebulous
blind sweep 
 to bolster
plangent  paean
  of
helium hinged
  extraneous
 life sojourn
brazen folly
  as
crimson cordon
ushers blurred
mystic squall
quirky quilt
  engulfing
behemoth blemish 
post sequence 
encrypted  kismet
punctual  launchpad
      to
 wizard woo
violin mesmerizing
allusive  pluck
sun-dried  spiccato
bouncing bow
   on
ear adorned
murmuration
intaglio instant
pregnant alms
   luxuriant
gazillion  gust 
      oe’r
hint endowed
sky syndicate’s
phantom limb
  an
opulent cascade 
ubiquitous umbra
    bequeathing
lush serendipity 
propitious prism
shadow conjuror
    of 
 lilac lavishness
  tangibly material
      as
cerebral chakra
intuits rapt
sublime sublimation

Premium Member Serendipity Sublime

Viridescent  wrench
adventitious
sparks  prompt
       yet
cloned camouflage 
for psyche’s
rue’d quandary
withered  wisps
   nebulous
blind sweep 
to bolster
plangent paean
  of
helium hinged
    extraneous
life sojourn
brazen folly
  as
crimson cordon
ushers blurred
mystic squall
quirky quilt
  engulfing
behemoth blemish 
post sequence 
encrypted  kismet
punctual  launchpad
      to
 wizard woo
violin mesmerizing
allusive  pluck
sun-dried  spiccato
bouncing bow
   on
ear adorned
murmuration
intaglio instant
pregnant alms
   luxuriant
gazillion  gust 
      oe’r
hint endowed
sky syndicate’s
phantom limb
  an
opulent cascade 
ubiquitous umbra
    bequeathing
lush serendipity 
propitious prism
shadow conjuror
    of 
lilac lavishness
tangibly material
      as
cerebral chakra
intuits rapt
sublime sublimation

Spiccato-Bo-Cal

Artist Verious
----------------------------
Fluttering Tougne
Concerto, Concerto, Concerto


Me buscas para ser tu
quieres mi amor
pero estás en
el camino
ya no me recuerdas
la soledad
es un asunto triste
no puedo esperar
a estar
contigo
de nuevo

Anata wa watashi o anata no mono ni ai to watashi no ai o motomete iru demo anata wa tabi ni dete iru mo watashi no koto o oboeteinai no? Kodoku wa kanashi mono mata anata to issho ni i rareru no ga machikirenai

í, día de gira
no teníamos miedo
ahora necesitamos tiempo
para escapar
mientras nos dejamos llevar por nuestros
recuerdos
de odas a la alegría y las lágrimas
degustando vinos preciados
de nuestros primeros años
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Pahrump, pahrump, pahrump
water from the rock
water from the rock
water from the rock
e t'aime
Je t'aime vraiment
Quand vas-tu dire
Tout va bien
Tout va bien
Tout va bien maintenant
Continue comme ça
Continue comme ça
Tout va bien
Oh bébé
Tout va bien maintenant


Woman and Cello

Skirt hiked up
legs ungracefully spread
inviting.
Between those limbs, chords darken.
Do I lean into the cello
or her?
A deep ewer of sound
pours from deft palpating fingers,
while her other hand
strokes the pulse of a
sonorant beast
carved from blood and lava.
Her body croons
wrists cuffed to the music,
closed eyes
bathe naked in dark pools.
A depth climbs to a tree top
yet the music
is still the lowest place on earth.
I am bound to the music in her,
by the sweep of her arm,
the weeping intensity
of her shoulders,
the cantabile purse
of her parted lips.
There is no place to be
other than inside
the voice
but whose voice?
My bare skull drums
to a spiccato cadence,
as her bow taps
on the strung spine
of a bruised sorrow,
one that for a long moment
we both share.

Woman and Cello

Skirt hiked up
legs ungracefully spread
inviting. 
Between those limbs, chords darken
where pale angels go blind.

A deep ewer of sound
pours from palpating fingers.
While her other hand
strokes the pulse of a
sonorant beast
carved from lava.

Her body croons
wrists cuffed to the music,
closed eyes
bathe naked in dark pools.

A depth climbs to a tree top
yet the music 
is still the lowest place on earth.

I am nudged into her
by the sweep of her arm,
the weeping intensity
of her shoulders.
The cantabile purse 
of her open lips.

There is no place to be
other than inside 
the voice of her cello,

skull drumming 
to a spiccato cadence,
as her bow softly taps
on the strung spine
of a bruised sorrow.

Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.

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