Best Allegro Poems
With the tremulous dark vista so far and yet so near
Abandoning my defences ~ I stand in awe ~ not in fear
Virtuoso Maestro unleash
a Composition Grandioso
To Overtures of a Symphony
herald the raging storming Tempo
Staccato Strains cascading
rapid torrents of Treble and Tremolo
Rhythmic Beats a Prelude
to an intensifying Triple Time Scherzo
Silken sail unfurled I embrace the storm of your tempestuous symphony
Crashing~ drifting~ floating~ flowing~ tasting ~awakening my melodic epiphany
Effervescent chilling thrilling air as
Allegro whelms Allegretto
Electrifying sizzling Musette ~
Trills a mesmeric Capriccio
Registers booming Bass Notes
rumbling within your thunderous Vibrato
Echoing claps of thunder Prompt
a spectacular Cadence Crescendo
I release my Spirit to gratify every phantasy in its sight
The soaring Tempest of my Soul liberates its own Philharmonic flight
Inhibitions abandoned as I succumb to your Music of the Night
Footnote:
By way of musical term allegory, I have endeavored to dramatize and romanticize the Awesomeness of an Electrical Thunderstorm and simultaneously likening it to the rush of tactual Sensual, Sexuality and Emotions experienced in romantic instances. I felt that the instrumental rendition of ‘The Phantom’ Musical, aptly accentuates the trepidation, anticipation and elating sentiments portrayed in the various elements of my poem.
He sits
Head low
Hands raise
slowly
to his eyes
Aimed at unseen
futures
rawly lived
pasts
how to
survive
Music in his mind
He rises
stands allongé
jumps and lands
petite allegro,
turns
and pirouettes
in search of that window
or that door
intensified
Bounces
off
white
soft
walls
wails, screams
silent sentences to
invisible people
Drops to his knees
The unnoticed tornado
whirlwind raging
without any
spoken
word
curls
him
to a
little ball
until inner
hope
dies
adagio
***
May 24, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Winter Sonata 11-29-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Winter Sonata
In grave allegro solo grey gathers,
Strings of winter fantasias
Brewing staccatos of frozen fall remnants,
Downbeats for the first movement
As shivering sleet wipes away bucolic barcarolles
Rocking on sapphire barges,
Harbingers of hoarfrost and hibernation,
When leafless boughs conduct the opening motif
To summon deepening darkness
From restrained shadows of turbulence
To beat warnings on frosted windows
Of snug dens – sheltered hallows.
Sweet solstice flutes sing adagio
Then scatter crystalline mists across snow packed paths
In the movement pathetique when sunglow
Glides between aspen,
Ankle deep in fleecy billows,
Sugar flakes flutter in Heaven’s perfect pitch
Rhythmic silent rests hypnotize crisp midnights
When fluttering flakes of dreamy andantes
Ride on melodic cantabile whispers
In flurries of fleecy decrescendos
Spells of codas, enthralled by idle snowfall,
Glitter in lyric tinsel of sparkling crystal beads on twigs.
Movement presto crescendos in frenzied storms
Snowfall pizzicatos fall in descending measures
When rondos of wind song ensembles
Ascend in frigid notes of icy scales
That pirouette in pulsing beats with resonate strings
Plucked by boreas in thundersnows percussions,
Vivace mistrals whirl in powdery ghosts
That spin in tremolo trills of icicles,
And in whiteout scherzos of blizzard sonatas,
Dizzy with solstice frosty fevers
As winter’s thundering cadence modulates
Into vernal sighs of resolution.
Vivaldi’s Violin
The sound begins vague as a thought from perhaps
a misted remembrance made more distant more soft
in the surrounding sunset not trusting eyes only ears.
I sit up and listen indeed stretch all hearing as music
surely music more than the wind’s whistling moves
ever closer alerting me to a whole physical smiling
through the opened backdoor I cast my sight past
the silhouetted trees of early December past
yellow-glowing windows of neighboring homes and on
past the twinkling white low-altitude warning lights set
like many a Venus on the horizon I notice I am
not frozen from weather but rather awaiting a sign as
a startling soloist continues Vivaldi’s allegro non motto
violin in a love affair with nature a secret in splendor
a flying to heights just beyond human
ears or prayers in this courting of my soul and its
further reaching in Winter III Allegro that could lift
the twilight ever more than experienced in dreams.
***********. ***********. ***********
(c) sally Young eslinger 12/3/2020
Thanks be to God
The gate to Monet’s Japanese garden’s open,
beckoning, and green as Giverny’s winter wheat,
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Monet’s Rose Cottage-locked to all but the wrens-
though curved trellises invite, and a path entreats;
the gate to Monet’s Japanese garden is open,
but the tour bus’s door closes, we can’t go inside.
Deep within submerged, asleep, in their frosted retreat
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Black skies sully the palette, a torrent begins
all hope lost in the thunder’s accompanying beat.
The gateway to Monet’s Japanese garden is open;
with a glance, we leave; we can say that we’ve been?
A dream sought, not found, Normandy’s gem incomplete.
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
Accustomed to beauty, the plump driver’s chagrined;
yet, he’s kept to schedule; we’ve stayed in our seats.
The gate to Monet’s Japanese garden is open,
but there’s no time to glimpse the pond’s lilies within.
First Published in Allegro Poetry Magazine Fall 2015
City streets spew fire on sunburnt July day.
Dabbing sweat from brow, I meld into paved sea.
Mick cries out "Angie" from quaint corner café;
slowing steps, I search his stripped-bare poignancy.
Strangers strut in sync with street’s allegro beat.
Pigeons peck concrete, hungry coos offbeat.
Sullen faces fall, diverting weary eyes.
Souls emit loneliness lost in sad goodbyes.
Exhaust squeezes my chest with each poisoned breath;
choking on my tears, I smell acrid deceit.
Amid spinning wheels, a stranger till my death.
On wide city streets, crowds rush by in defeat.
A restless, hazy sun sinks to moonless night.
Senses become keen with city’s fading light.
Midnight hour comes to call, taunting my dark heart.
Angel wings span streets as nameless child departs.
.-G-.
.-R-.
.-O-.
.-O-.
.-V-.
.-E-.
.-S-.
pierce my ears,
caressing notes to rake
tears on such moonlit aches,
strings groan through passages
on breaths as scrapes of violin
lurch; veiled weeping dives
low like fine spear falling
on my riddled head,
as if to crack reeds
just there,
enthralled
by heaves of waved air
swelling along melodies
tragic in liquid gothic drones,
my old innocence plucked raw
beyond deep allegro of time;
tunes' long drags hard to bear
peeling my burnt flesh slow
the fine bow screeches,
I cry on slain notes
Dissonance is delegating the intensity in my eyes
Minor chords unveil the passion my body can’t belie
Eighth notes are lightning sparks that burn my finger tips
And when you play Fminor7 I tend to bite my lips.
I want you to scale my thighs
the way you play A minor harmonic
Deftly wrenching haunting moans
Experiences anything but platonic
Allegro Legato Crescendo Vibrato
Sing to me in Italian and tell me to hold my tongue
But if anyone interrupts the music …
a piano's lid comes crashing down--the last note never sung.
There are so many things I am mad about.
Take sunrise with red clouds and soft rays
Penetrating through the water-laden clouds.
Rain is imminent, thunder threatening afar.
It matters not, for I love to stay cosy indoors.
Soon, it will rain, and with impulsive haste, I’ll
Sit at my beloved baby grand and play
A few tentative light-hearted arpeggios
Followed by a mesmerising, uplifting allegro
But never finish with some sad dirge.
By noon, the weather clears into a soft breeze
And I proceed to have a meal made up
Of my favourite shellfish and rigatoni
With shredded truffles and a glass of chilled Chablis.
From that terrace, I could see the turbulent sea,
Its waves roll nonchalantly towards the shore,
Rising and falling, always transient
And showering us with a froth of salty spray,
A sweet caress that tastes so pleasant on my lips.
There are so many things that give me pleasure and satisfaction.
And you, Madam? I still remember your sensitivity.
Your glossy lips met mine: It was the best thing I loved.
Tower, buzz and scurry
Oh great resilient city
Ahoy!
Alive. Scramble bustle earth's
ethnicities
On lurid quests--
A pendulum of tantric turmoil and
Blessed harmony
Quixotic city--brash,
Sangfroid merotomized and
Chrematistic--metro nonpareil.
See a myriad melange of
Tortured splenetic
Souls and great spirits
Noble and soothfast
Great city, your hecatombs
Of underground trains
Roar scream in
Hodge-podge graffiti attire
Fat fuming brattling buses
Grunt their huffpuffs,
And nervous cars scissorcut
Impatiently betwixt tarred and
Cemented streets
August and capacious
Ferruminated grey glass and steel
Towers--Aeeries in obeisance to the
Heavens, erupt in anabasis at the azure
Pearly welkin,
Humming diapasons of marvelous
Melismatic tunes
A gallimaufry of cacaphony and
Sweet sounds--the
Great Metropolis persistently
Thrives.
Streets adorned with sylph fashion
Models, conute churls, street
recrement--dazed and forgotten men,
Enticing shuck and jive
Blandishing street vendors,
Natty brujo business gentry
With their helotry on a
Ferris wheel of daily
Triumphs and defeats and
Cheeky mendicants
Shuffle along allegro vivace
Howling chorus songs amidst a
Torrent of raining dollars and
Coins floating in the skies over
The brazen metropolis.
Snuffling restaurants like hives
Humbuzz the grandiloquence,
Pithy slang and sententious
Persiflage of the day.
A truly syncratic parley
Of passions sentient
Of crimes basilic
Of arts sacerdotal and gratuitous
Of fashions arabesque and outre
Of plays frivolous and profound
Of music sericeous and truculent
Of money pursuits solonic
Of loves ascendant and descentdant
Of rejections mournful and joyous
An e'er persisting cha-cha-cha and
Boogie-woogie of the fierce
Bustling bubbling bold city,
Pendulumming pandaemoniums and
Resolutions, day
Upon pertinatious day.
David John Hart 2003 USA
Enchanted was I with a cloying scent...
whiffs of wild magnolia
mingled with the woodsy tang
of her lemon verbena perfuming the air
Like Samson's strength, the sun's threads of gold
were clipped by silver shears
of an ascending pearlescent moon
How sweet the bloom of love ~
We slowly walked around the lake
By the zenith of eventide
we were serenaded by a cicada symphony
in rhythmic allegro thrum...
In the distance... howling of a feral creature
crying with need of a mate
How wild the passion of love ~
She tensed at his wailing call
soothed with murmurs and kisses
Her heart beat in sync with my own...
tympani drums keeping time
like the pendulum of a metronome
How musical the lyrics of love ~
Her eyes met mine...
mirroring myriads of sparkling stars
gleaming as bright as a prismed diamond
I would pledge my troth tonight...
Here, beneath a celestial bower
How heavenly the gift of love ~
A tendril of long wavy hair
blew across her cheek
I crimped it around my finger
then released a raven curl
My lips whispered softly...
I bent to her like a willow to the shore
How eager the need of love ~
When I knelt
she trembled at my intent...
Bodies clinging, we swam fathoms deep
surrendering to each other as eternal lovers
passionately torrid... reverently tender
How plumb the depth of love ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
March 23, 2021
Eight Word Bardenesque Challenge
Sponsored by John Hamilton
Enchanted was I with a cloying scent...
whiffs of wild magnolia
mingled with the woodsy tang
of lemon verbena perfuming the air
Like Samson's strength, the sun's threads of gold
were clipped by silver shears
of an ascending pearlescent moon
How sweet the bloom of love ~
We slowly walked around the lake
By the zenith of eventide
serenaded by a cicada symphony
in rhythmic allegro thrum...
In the distance, the howling of a feral creature
crying with need of a mate
How wild the passion of love ~
She tensed at his wailing call
soothed with murmurs and kisses
Her heartbeat in sync with my own...
tympani drums keeping time
like the pendulum of a metronome
How musical the lyrics of love ~
Her eyes met mine...
mirroring myriads of sparkling stars
gleaming as bright as a prismed diamond
I would pledge my troth tonight...
Here, beneath a celestial bower
How heavenly the gift of love ~
A tendril of long wavy hair
blew across her cheek
I crimped it around my finger
then released a raven curl
My lips whispered softly...
I bent to her like a willow to the shore
How eager the need of love ~
When I knelt
she trembled at my intent...
Bodies clinging, we swam fathoms deep
surrendering to each other as eternal lovers
passionately torrid... reverently tender
How plumb the depth of love ~
APPASSIONATO
He made overtures to her,
With the time-honoured chat-up line,
“We could make sweet music together;
I want to make you mine.”
She conducted herself quite cautiously;
Remained composed and calm.
A duet might be pleasant;
And he certainly had charm.
But she didn’t want to rush things,
The tempo should be slow.
He wished to proceed allegro,
She favoured adagio.
She played second oboe,
While he was a double bass.
They came from different cultures,
A thing she found hard to embrace.
And so she resisted his overtures,
They really weren’t well-matched.
She had an affaire with a flautist instead;
A thing with no strings attached.
2nd July 2019
Music Theme Contest
Sponsor - Geraldine Taylor
Other Muse
Interwoven two inspirations at play
Wrapped in a beguiling smile of embrace
Lyrical rhythms enchant nature’s traits
Graceful melody roams music’s landscapes.
Through hymns thundering modal notation
Chants of platinum skies rumble elation
Meander through anthems of sunrise charmed flutes
Spellbound canticle of sunset tribute.
Frisky with spring airs chorus spins spells,
Dark colors of canticles melancholy tells
Flowing andante in tone poem meadows
Allegro reunion - playmates in tempo.
I wander pastoral through charmed melody
Country roads inspire scenic rhapsodies.
Inspired by Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony and Nature
4-13-21
Contest: My Other Muse
Sponsor: Margarita Lillico
Watch out and wait. In fact stop listen and wait. Is that the wailing of a sail sailing by? Of course it is. The fact that an ironed breeze can touch a nautical knot is common knowledge amongst sailors and sailors are neither shaped sharpened sharpeners nor are they saying still shifts stillness. It is the opinion of the official orange kingdom that stalk the juice makers. Creators of squishing. Causing cannibalistic clothes cheating chatty climbers. It is neither within a dash nor a hash key that a full stop is found. And keys can be symbolic and symbolism of a metric metre can be taken to a few zoos to play with caged controlled boxed up animals who wish to run away. This they do with thuds akin to hooves. Strong fur and beaks can move and snap bars. And all are released. Good. Ha the ball is dancing to a top allegro tune in a sombrero and a tutu. Ha the tail of a car is chasing a cat around. Xxxxx multinational z z z z z. With a hypothetical hypothesis hearing harmonic hopping hippopotami z