#clarinet - Hello Poetry

The soft winds of a fall night Whisper hope to me The wind gently dances With the feathers of my plume It will be alright Said the wind You will have a good performance. Set! I am at attention My head is up at the sunset My tall posture meets heaven I am the guardian Of dusks arrival, And all of fall Fades into my show's Theme of spring. I step on beat Cherry blossoms fall Beside my feet The sky fades into blue and pink In the distance stands a mountainous prop Oh mount Fuji she stands! What a pretty sight For the judges To see on a competitive night. My heart ascends to hope I fly up and over The peak of mount Fuji The kids of the night Play her song We all ascend into the stars.

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Jan 27, 2025

Jan 27, 2025 at 8:59 PM UTC

Lucretia

Ascend to hope

The soft winds of a fall night Whisper hope to me The wind gently dances With the feathers of my plume It will be alright Said the wind You will have a good performance. Set! I am at attention My head is up at the sunset My tall posture meets heaven I am the guardian Of dusks arrival, And all of fall Fades into my show's Theme of spring. I step on beat Cherry blossoms fall Beside my feet The sky fades into blue and pink In the distance stands a mountainous prop Oh mount Fuji she stands! What a pretty sight For the judges To see on a competitive night. My heart ascends to hope I fly up and over The peak of mount Fuji The kids of the night Play her song We all ascend into the stars.

31

Dear Bass Clarinet, I have no partner To show affection for, But deep in my core I know For sure Love comes from the music Our soul makes, And that's is what A bass clarinet is for. Embrace me into every sharp Like angels playing harp My lips are kissed by the reed And every note articulated Leaves me in need. Oh Bass Clarinet I don't need a boy To feel the joy Your sound is enough To make me feel loved.

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Jan 25, 2025

Jan 25, 2025 at 6:20 PM UTC

Lucretia

My Dear Bass Clarinet

Dear Bass Clarinet, I have no partner To show affection for, But deep in my core I know For sure Love comes from the music Our soul makes, And that's is what A bass clarinet is for. Embrace me into every sharp Like angels playing harp My lips are kissed by the reed And every note articulated Leaves me in need. Oh Bass Clarinet I don't need a boy To feel the joy Your sound is enough To make me feel loved.

20

I am on Mackinac Island, Lying down on a big white lawn chair In front of the Grand Hotel. The faint scent of fudge Lingers on the air so I can almost taste it, And my hair is getting constantly blown By the wind that flows among the Chairs, grass, and music. The music comes from the direction of the water, Where an old style jazz band has Temporarily set up shop, Creating gorgeous silhouettes Against the orange and pink sunset sky. The purring of the clarinet Bounces off of me like the waves are Bouncing on shore, But even lighter than that, Even lighter than the Wings of the seagull trailing overhead. The clarinet drops in and out of sync With the waves as the silhouettes start to Bounce to the music. A distant bike bell dings, But it matches so harmoniously With the music that I don't notice it. Waves, bike, clarinet. Waves, bike, clarinet. A constant cycle interrupted only by The saxophone and drums occasionally. Waves, bike, clarinet. The sun is set. Silhouettes turn to shadows. Waves, bike, clarinet. Waves, bike. Waves.

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May 20, 2020

May 20, 2020 at 2:44 PM UTC

TigerLily13

clarinet sunset

I am on Mackinac Island, Lying down on a big white lawn chair In front of the Grand Hotel. The faint scent of fudge Lingers on the air so I can almost taste it, And my hair is getting constantly blown By the wind that flows among the Chairs, grass, and music. The music comes from the direction of the water, Where an old style jazz band has Temporarily set up shop, Creating gorgeous silhouettes Against the orange and pink sunset sky. The purring of the clarinet Bounces off of me like the waves are Bouncing on shore, But even lighter than that, Even lighter than the Wings of the seagull trailing overhead. The clarinet drops in and out of sync With the waves as the silhouettes start to Bounce to the music. A distant bike bell dings, But it matches so harmoniously With the music that I don't notice it. Waves, bike, clarinet. Waves, bike, clarinet. A constant cycle interrupted only by The saxophone and drums occasionally. Waves, bike, clarinet. The sun is set. Silhouettes turn to shadows. Waves, bike, clarinet. Waves, bike. Waves.

35

The voice of a flat clarinet Sings through an open window Through the warm, paved streets Full of Honda Civics and ***** buses The people turn off their bass blasting radios And adjust their ears to the quiet music Which softly sighs through the town Through the busy bakery and the dusty church The song dies too soon And the world holds its breath For one more second -- Exhaling noisy construction, business phone calls, And the popular love songs that seem to play on repeat. Forgetting the quiet clarinet song.

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Sep 9, 2018

Sep 9, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC

mer15

Clarinet Song

The voice of a flat clarinet Sings through an open window Through the warm, paved streets Full of Honda Civics and ***** buses The people turn off their bass blasting radios And adjust their ears to the quiet music Which softly sighs through the town Through the busy bakery and the dusty church The song dies too soon And the world holds its breath For one more second -- Exhaling noisy construction, business phone calls, And the popular love songs that seem to play on repeat. Forgetting the quiet clarinet song.

14

freak of nature "selfish" screaming in my ears I digress violently now Whitman bleeding out of my ears I cannot bow seventeen and furious I am the poet of the human skin; of violins and softly fingered clarinets singing of the dirt under my fingernails self-loathing--the evil twin of guilt--is blinding I cannot read graphing calculators or the future but both seem empty like the box under my bed that used to hold pieces of my soul (or I thought it did) now I am scattered I would like to hold onto your hand (I will be less abrasive this way) instead of purging myself of every doubt that has rudely accosted me in the marrow of my simple human structure

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Oct 26, 2015

Oct 26, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC

sweet-ridicule

digress

freak of nature "selfish" screaming in my ears I digress violently now Whitman bleeding out of my ears I cannot bow seventeen and furious I am the poet of the human skin; of violins and softly fingered clarinets singing of the dirt under my fingernails self-loathing--the evil twin of guilt--is blinding I cannot read graphing calculators or the future but both seem empty like the box under my bed that used to hold pieces of my soul (or I thought it did) now I am scattered I would like to hold onto your hand (I will be less abrasive this way) instead of purging myself of every doubt that has rudely accosted me in the marrow of my simple human structure

31

Whenever I enter any Indian Wedding, The clarinet would be lamenting in rejoice, Playing it would be very frequently happy tunes, The irony became so profound when I'd move further, Clarinet already lamented that the groom would lose himself.

0

Jan 20, 2015

Jan 20, 2015 at 1:37 AM UTC

Atul

The Lamenting Clarinet

Whenever I enter any Indian Wedding, The clarinet would be lamenting in rejoice, Playing it would be very frequently happy tunes, The irony became so profound when I'd move further, Clarinet already lamented that the groom would lose himself.

5

Puffs of thistledown floating in the air. Lovely lady dark blue plums and the tracery of lace. 'Toot' says a trumpet to the cry from a clarinet. Tinkling piano notes flowing lilting, rippling, fleeting fleeing. Bows, strings and violins. Echoes of yesterday fading into grey.

0

Sep 24, 2014

Sep 24, 2014 at 4:40 AM UTC

kenneth-walter-simpson

Groping for a Ghost

Puffs of thistledown floating in the air. Lovely lady dark blue plums and the tracery of lace. 'Toot' says a trumpet to the cry from a clarinet. Tinkling piano notes flowing lilting, rippling, fleeting fleeing. Bows, strings and violins. Echoes of yesterday fading into grey.

14