Long Lyre Poems
Long Lyre Poems. Below are the most popular long Lyre by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Lyre poems by poem length and keyword.
"Bring Me Wine,Myrrh and My Sweetheart Daughter Anabella,
My Little Anabella Loves To Listen To The Voice Of Salome,Her Lyre and Her
Happy Serenade..
Tell My Scribes To Be Fast About Compiling The Exploits Of Their King In His
Last Battle Campaign..What Is a King Without An Updated Chronicle..
Send In My Little Prince For His Voice As He Reads Through His Texts Of
Poetry..Lures The King His Father To a Closer Salient Walk With The gods..
Tell The War Generals To Give Me A detailed Brief of Our Next Campaign.."
At Morn..
"Send In The Finest Of Thy Young Warriors..So I can Test My Stealth In The Very
Face Of Battle and Danger...
What Have Young Men Turned Themselves into..So Lazy,Wanton and Unmanly..
Off My Sight Before I Seek Thy Skulls This Very Instant..
(In Privacy With The Head Warrior)..Oh! Sarskaas Your Young Boys Are one of the
Best in The Region My Training Sessions Are Truelly Refreshing..Tell this not to
them Lest you build the Fruits of Pride and Treachery in their Young Minds..
Do Usher in My Seductive Belles to Show Off Their Waists in Acts of
Poetry,Dance and Linguistic Body Embellishments..."
At Noon..
"You The Dreaded Most Notorious KING Of the Valley..A Demi god,Invincible and
Indestructible..As I Speak Kiss The Sole Of My Feet and eat this dish of Camel
Dung mixed with fine desert sand..
Ax-Man when he finishes his dessert Bring me his Head on My 'Royal Golden
Skull-Dish'..
Usher in the Wise Men of the South..For I want to converse with them in this
same spirit of Saliency..
Stuff the roast Calf portions with a lot of herbs and Spices..You well know its the
Obsession of the Men from The south.."
At Sundown..
"Usher in the different contingents of Musicians to Entertain my Salient Guests...
Wrap My 'Lotus Fumes' Quickly so I can Smoke this Life's Troubles Aways..And
See Through the One Eye of the gods in Solemnity and Blissful Thinkings,
Head Eunuch Do Send A Servant to The Harem..He Should Tell My Queens to
get A-Ready For Their Lord is in Good Shape for Royal Rumbles and More..
Oh! My Faithful Knights your War plans were excellent..Go Now Enjoy and Excite
your souls as much..Retain your honour and have the War at the Back Of your
Minds..
Depart In Peace..Many A-Waists in The Harem are Restless..
I go in to Satisfy My Very Own.."
Welcome Again To The World Of That Certain King..
As two, hearts dance the embrace of a fire,
plucking your heartstings as a lyre
Distrust, lies, eclipses love's satellite true- natal
loon, into a suicide hot air balloon ride!
Moves aside bend of light, chooses,
side, of a dark malignant side of moon !
In the twilight hour blues,
where passions softly stir,
emotions start to blur, turn sour,
painting pleasure in the night maw to devour two
In the depths of the night, a solitary light wound
casts a shadows upon the heart,
where darkness slowly seeps through
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desire,
a symphony of emotions that sets souls afire
Strings of anticipation strum
in rhythmic delight tuned to
caressing secrets, where fantasies abide, nude
Signs, who, hides moons of the truest kind!
O a tale apart
Moves side winds, breath of the dark arts,
to align into hearts maligned
arms folded in death to make with
as a stolen kiss ignites a flame,
like a symphony, our hearts fall prey to again
be betwixt in the game
With every stolen kiss, a crescendo of desires,
hollows,
a symphony of emotions that sets
souls adrift from the shallows
In passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide their gallows
from the ghouls that preside in it's marrow
In a tale ripped apart...
every 'plete of your heart
Strings of anticipation strum in
rhythmic delight tune
turns to the knife of sacrificial rite
In the twilight raimant so blue, where passions fly,
the jolly roger of motley fools,
selling the fine line
sailing the live mines
Embracing the darkness' essence,
a tale yet for reason
harmonies of ecstasy reaching
a breathtaking peak of reasoning
Oh, the cadence of desire, intoxicating and divine,
as crescendos rise and fall, our spirits intertwine
a symphony of emotions, wild and misconstrued,
leaving souls aflame, forever marked,
for death do you sever
apart partaking your
passions dance in the shadows,
at Night, where secrets cannot hide to
desires lever toggle with every touch, new,
every sight of slight or bruise
Urban decay of a dream,
dream theater of a tragedy
playing looped scene
In the Twilight raimant so blue
With every beat of your heart
Moves side winds, choose, sides,
with a dark maligned tune
Favorite Carolyn Devonshire Poem
History Rising from the Sea
Treasure from the sea
Golden doubloon
Sixteenth century artifact
By ancestors hewn
Earth's history lays buried
Beneath five oceans
As undersea tremors
Create violent commotions
Freeing from Spanish galleons
Precious metals, gemstones,
To greet early beachcombers
History on loan
Memories of bygone ages
Scattered on the sand
Finally kissed by sun again
While in a searcher's hand
I pursue this morning trek
With Atlantis on my mind
Seeking proof at last
In treasures I might find
When ancient civilations
Seem to disappear
Comb the beach, you might find
The evidence is here
For from a phoenix rising
New finds appear each day
And I'll not stop searching
Till doubts I can allay
Caroline and I shared of love of water - she the ocean and I lakes and Puget Sound. Her poems flow like tides - effortlessly - with bits of wisdom scattered like treasures of seashells or driftwood found on the beach. This poem speaks of our mutual love of beachcombing for treasures and the pondering of history brought to mind by life's flotsam.
The poem below represents my tribute to Carolyn.
Girl on a Dolphin
Stargazing ocean pixie
Rides the playful weathered waves
To surf the ocean tides
With laughing dolphins
Leaps to catch Delphinus
Starfarer in a star bound chrysalis
To ride this five star celestial constellation
On heaven sent lapis astral waters
Wearing moonstones like Apollo’s poetry
Where starry Aquila flies to Lyra’s music.
Salt spattered waves only gaze
At a girl – eternal sea sprite –
That sits atop a stellar dolphin
And feels the shell torn loss
Of feet that danced through tidal pools,
Delight and awe surging through her signature,
As time bound day searches midnight legends
To align in twinkling sidereal day –
A quest for remnant memories in verses
Of a star born spirit – girl riding on a dolphin.
For Carolyn
8-19-21
Contest: Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry – Not a Contest
Sponsor: Andrea Dietrich
The constellation Delphinus is made up of five stars and can be seen between the constellations of Aquila, the Eagle, and Lyra, the Lyre. It is named for two Greek legends based on dolphins one of which tells of Apollo setting a dolphin in the sky in gratitude for saving the Greek poet Arion. Apollo is the god of music and poetry.
I.
Eros walked slowly through the forestland,
Near Mount Olympus, in the soft twilight.
By his side, he held his bow in his hand,
As he walked on through the advancing night.
Above the forest, the evening was clear,
As a full moon lit up the mountain’s peak,
An endless number of stars filled the skies.
Through the trees, he saw a wandering deer,
That appeared to be searching for a creek—
He quickly followed its path with his eyes.
II.
Reaching back into his quiver with care,
Eros placed an arrow within his bow.
He quietly raised the bow in the air,
Then he slowly crouched his body down low.
He watched the deer at the creek quench its thirst,
As he swiftly trailed it through the thick brush—
Suddenly, there came a beautiful sound.
The music startled both of them at first,
Then Eros and the deer left in a rush—
The arrow fell from his bow to the ground.
III.
As they both followed the sound of the lyre,
They then found themselves now coming nearer
To a woman on a rock near a fire—
Her sound and her beauty became clearer.
The deer slowed down from the pace which it ran,
And shook the loose leaves away from its fur—
Erato had brought an end to the hunt.
Her playing always charmed both beast and man—
The deer calmly listened from behind her,
And Eros stood enamored from the front.
IV.
They listened together, as she played on,
Wearing myrtle and roses in her crown.
Further into her presence, they were drawn—
Surrendering, Eros placed his bow down.
In the moonlight, Erato’s tunic flowed,
Appearing light blue within the green trees,
And her golden lyre began to glisten.
The fading embers of her campfire glowed,
And remained burning in the gentle breeze—
Eros stood and continued to listen.
V.
Overhead, the moon hid behind a cloud,
The fire was soon extinguished in the dark.
Her playing became increasingly loud,
And the fire reignited with a spark.
The playing then soon silenced in the night—
Her precious lyre upon the rock she placed,
And handed Eros a golden arrow.
He then watched the deer leave in the firelight—
Being thankful, for their presence it graced,
And for the sounds from the clearings narrow.
© 2023
Inside a grotto scooped out by a wealthy earl for his seated pleasure,
There sat a bard amidst the edelweiss strung 'round the hole of leisure.
Fallen droplets of acidic water pitter-pattered in echoes across the cave,
Slowly weathering away its leaky limestone layers as would a mason's lathe.
The bard, whose unimportant name shall be dismissed, strung away at his lyre,
Tickling its strings with unclipped fingertips which pick up songs from every wire.
Mediocrity had once been the nemesis to the boyish bard in his recent youth,
But now, after endless nights of practice, his expertise needed little proof.
He grew bored, however, with the memorized music that his body hummed,
From hypnotic and melodic languid limbs, which on their own had strummed.
Seated that evening on the edge of the grotto's bank,
He put down his lyre as both his eyes into the water sank.
"I am but twenty-six years-old and I've already come to master," he pined,
"Trading tales told inside of tunes; what more on Earth for me is there to dine?
Have I drunk the goblet dry in but a gulp?
Have I swallowed the savory pie in but a bite?
And have I been denied, in gluttony, the right to dessert?
Please, oh motherly moon, dearest Selene,
What more is there for my life to mean?"
During his pouting pitiful preponderances of apathetic patheticism,
A scattered image on his own reflection distracted him from his pessimism.
An eidolon of Endymion appeared before the startled bard,
And he held within phantasmal hands a deck of playing cards.
"My name is Endymion and I once walked awoken in Earthen woods,
Until I fell in love with Hera before her husband banished me for good.
I succumbed to an endless and dreamless slumber, but I can now see,
You fear you already lived your life and will be put to rest like me.
Yet life is but a game of Pitch, there are highs and lows and jacks and game,
Which is scored in not one hand but rounds whose cards will never be the same.
You've played your hand well in an entertaining trade, as you have felt,
So now its time to shuffle the deck and play with cards that've yet been dealt."
With that the ghost of Endymion drifted back into his eternal sleep,
And the bard in the grotto grinned and eagerly forgot why he did just weep.
P. Mauriat Eldon she spoke his name for all to remember.His name means basso with the augmentative suffix -one. Her belief was that he was Italian. She spoke of him with a Peking Duck inspired meatloaf with brown rice and cabbage. I love his tone and suttle temperament.Echolocation used to create his image.She spoke of his brother as somewhat clumsy: clownish even, Puchner I believe his name was:Pushner Eldon.He wore rings as Cymbal of His Excellence.The minute the night sky appeared he looked to me to be his: I laughed and called to his brother: who I loved in the night in tones of vengeful desire. The next evening Puchner looked again to me and my suseries of intercessory prayers where answered. Steeped full of desire I allowed him to love me: and was pleased and satisfied.His claves were a rhythmic pattern of satisfaction, soothing my longing and desire." With you,an Everlasting Love" I was a tempress of passion, a lyre beneath the flute! Propulsive grooves, that created a duration of want and need.
The oils of the supper plate coated my mouth as he kissed me..Issuing me published to the world. I stood beside him for day's and at night I loved him with a deep neverending ppassion.People had to cause us to stand before God as one. In such doings I had achieve all that a woman could acheive in finding: the satisfaction of belonging until I was made his before God and man. I smiled in delight that some saw me different: he who I had learned to love had made me steeped into oneness
Written by: Contraltos de Passionate
From the AlbumF3 to F5
"Sounds of a Woman in Love"
Troupes of Love-Troupes of Lovers
"Half way Thru"-
create and recreated
by Big Beats Music Co.
Usage of both male and Female
Background singers
Done with collaborated efforts with
the Intention to Impress Sound Team
and "Sumthang Special"
For Groove Chore Group
"Special Night" performed
with Modern Mixes
and Real Opera Music
with sum Twang from Groovey Beats
"Gotez to Be"
sang wiff C-Mid Octave
of The Same Name
(courtesy of Marriage Minded Album Co.)
So deaf, so blind are we-
Our little minds (judgmentally inclined )
base judgments on assumptions,
not on related facts !
So, on and on, the squirrel cage
goes, round and round, And no one listens
to what wise men still propound...
How many centuries has man's myopic eye
failed to envision "time" assigned
the role of symbol ?
Ask whether logic ever pinpoints time,
elusive, all pervasive time ?
A timely symbol circles back,
month after month, each 29 or 30 days,
a messianic symbol seen, in evening skies,
reminding viewers why the sun grew dark,
as Jesus, on Tau-shaped cross,
suffered the crucifixion ?
Although perceptive friends of light
find eyes and ears shut tight
against all vestiges of explanation,
yet shall the Crescent wax ( and wane)
beyond the 40 days wherein the long expected,
long feared time of the Millenium shall reign
The 19th province, in the 19th year
of Earth's moon cycle, in this aging century,
likewise commencing with "19", all coincide!
As year has followed year, now,
"91" becomes the mirror image, " 19-91."
Will Armageddon spark the ushering in
of a New Age ? As when the Hand of Doctrine
reaches down to grasp the Key of Faith,
there in Granada,
there in Alhambra's court of justice
the first reverberations, commencing, shake the mighty mountain rising by its side
There, where the Moors were driven out,
500 years ago, now the initial tide,
first tide, goes shuddering through solid rock,
as seen- and heard-from there,
reducing those impetrable mountain heights to little more than dust
The pile of solid rock,
impentrable for over 700 years
to mortal power or to magic artifice
against the Lord of the enchanted mountain,
at long last shall release the aged magus
and Gothic princess from that vaulted hall
sealed in the mountain's heart,
illusive rock formation- struck long ago
by that old prophet's staff- to open the way
to go, leaving the weather-clock there watching!
Quaking, shaking, crumbling !
To dust return!
Mountain, again return to dust !
End time solutions
alone
alone
to free the long- forgotten princess
and her silver lyre-
whereby our Saviours music
may, once again, be heard,
here, on this planet earth !
(a salvation for my then junior high school youngest daughter afflicted with cognitive dissonance, who over the intervening years (mor'n half dozen Earth orbitz ago), I dashed off this poem witnessed nothing short of miraculous transformation evinced and witnessed by profound learning displaying significant aptitude cognition).
twas spawned fondness
for above named young lady,
when she got assigned
to thine offspring
a glint of genuine virtue grew
into shimmering orb
of brilliant radiance
if accorded sound - would ring
the tune of countless angels,
which imagined beatific,
Democratic, fantastic...sounds
generated via many wing
heavenly music filling
cosmos with joy as august aural,
choral, epochal...tones
would zippily zing
from across universe
spurring one me silly mortal
to contrive this verse
attempting to capture her
aura, charisma, enigma...purse
sue wing dynamic link
with progeny did nurse
emotional and spiritual value
dedication she did immerse
latent social services skill
plus natural radiance
a blessed hire
at Central in Norristown, Pennsylvania,
whose visits i miss lyre
plucking voice
stilled concern for precious Shana Punim,
who aspires to challenge and grow
this father may spill tears
his lessoned fatherhood role
n'er did aye tire
and glad fate that though our paths
will probably not criss cross
curiosity will gnaw within noggin,
and possibly rub raw minor loss
viz, the persevering
maiden USA touch of Kim
lichened to moss
in her rooted cultivation of care
toward biological lass a lucky toss
of the genetic combination
from Matthew
and Abby Harris our jewel
shimmering facets of luminescence
reminding me human
gem stone a kool
aid - priceless staff member
of human league,
whose golden presence doth gently rule
without doubt a beloved
unbridled priceless counterpart
some lucky guy
pledging his troth yes – she yule
see stars in her eyes
no doubt disappointment
felt by other guys
envious of he,
who snagged Kimberly Hartzell
so worthy and wise!
No dear
Make the date for the tea
Friday at three
For the moon will be
At the windows
At the wee hours
And it will be the full moons
We will pick up as much as we choose
With the scarlet spoon
Monday the sun is hot
No room to look at the blooms
Right and left a lot of the knots
No freedom to consume
The aroma of the kettle and teapot
And ample warmth
Fruitless will be the perfume
So hungrily sought
Make it on Friday, dear
I will have the bouquet
Wet with the dew
Under the shade of the brown cashew
Waiting Haikus
Under the moons
The globes of love
We will bring it down from above
Blend it with the doors to the stories
Of the blue breeze and white cheese
This Friday way
We two
The unbuttoned blue
Tuesdays we stay too much buttoned
Questioning and questioned
The ears of rice and wheat flattened
All the almonds dampened
No point to meet
With all the oceans discreet
Nice will be the bay
No bridle on Friday
We will make the crochet
As the full moons sway
Opening the dizzy doorway
To the interplay
Into the next day too
The lovely lingering blue
No other work to attend to
No socks no shoe
All brakes broken
In the Garden of Eden
Both Wednesday and Thursday
Too much to pay and repay
So busy with our purse
It is a rank commerce
No eyes to see the dove
Let alone the circle of love
That will shine far above
Beyond our reach
Far off from the beach
No stories to stitch together
Just the toxic work
The shoulder into the jerk
No time
My pen and your rhyme
Won’t chime
The Friday will come and open
The gates of the jasmine garden
No concern for the absolute tick tock
In the mirror the exposed peacock
Fulfillment of the golden wildfire
The hillocks loving the playing lyre
The next day is a holiday too
Followed by the Sunday hue
Here is a time of planting the tree
In the festival of the artery
On the happy Friday in the jasmine garden
The day of moons and green lemons
No full-stop
Just comma and colon
For the hundreds of flying herons
With the pink crayon
______________________________________
February 26, 2018
Friday feeling - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Silent One
When you were first created
It feels as if you'v been alive since the beginning of time
You were around when the dinosaurs walked the Earth
You'v been over filled with wisdom
That has tested the lengths of time
You were that first grain of sand
Waiting night and day for someone to pick you up and put you in their pocket for safe keeping
You'v been here longer than the sun
You were once the sun
But as quickly as you started
You burned out
You'v seen with your unopened eyes that there is no God or Devil
That's just a human concept
There was no such thing as the four seasons
The Earth was flat
But still you found your self floating for miles
There were no clouds no rain
The sky stayed a dull grey
The plants were all bare
But no one was cold
The animals haven't even risen from the ground yet
You received vast knowledge to comfort others
Just none of your own
Been taught to be humble
But still you'v managed to go backwards from nature
Was suppost to feed your soul
To many holes to mend
Been sending out mixed messages
Your just as confusing to the eyes
But what or who taught you to be so self destructive?
Con artist, lyre, manipulative, secretive, addict
It was embedded in you since birth
You had no way around it
Is this a life sentence?
Sure as hell feels like it
Do you really even have more control than you think you do?
Go over to the exit door and say good bye
Forever to be placed into a trance
Just been one big wives tale
Nothings real
But the pain of sorrow
Your wells all dried up
Have no more crocodile tears to shed
Off a layer of skin
Pick until you'v reached bone
That's your identity
To busy playing the role as the sick one
With the unstable thoughts
Were you even taught how to love?
Your unsure of yourself
But you think you have an understanding
Again just none towards yourself
Filled with wrath of self hatred
That boiled over when you were in the womb
Maybe you were already exposed to negative vibrations
Being vulnerable and to weak to defend yourself
You got built in a weak immune system
No way to fight off the evil spirits