"diminuendo" poems
Footsteps in crescendo heading in its direction
As they descend the wail of the beast is now but a whisper
A man known for taking what is not his own
Now feels the brunt of sharp stone
The darkness above which gave him comfort;betrayed him
Hands reach for him from all cardinal points
His screams cut the stagnant air like a well sharpened knife
But his screams;those screams,go unnoticed
The crescendo turns to diminuendo
The dirt is now saturated with red
Justice had been served
The justice of the jungle
-Sharifa Palmer
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 2:10 AM UTC
i wanted more from him
than enjoying my pizzicatos
while bringing me to crescendos
but it seems
our love may
have already reached
its forte without ever
breathing in its
diminuendo
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 3:26 PM UTC
The sun, a heavy spider, spins in the thirsty sky.
The wind hides under cactus leaves, in doorway corners. Only the wry
Small shadow accompanies Hamlet-Petrouchka's march - the slight
Wry sniggering shadow in front of the morning, turning at noon, behind towards night.
The plumed cavalcade has passed to tomorrow, is lost again;
But the wisecrack-mask, the quick-flick-fanfare of the cane remain.
Diminuendo of footsteps even is done:
Only remain, Don Quixote, hat, cane, smile and sun.
Goliaths fall to our sling, but craftier fates than these
Lie ambushed - malice of open manholes, strings in the dark and falling trees.
God kicks our backsides, scatters peel on the smoothest stair;
And towering centaurs steal the tulip lips, the aureoled hair,
While we, craned from the gallery, throw our cardboard flowers
And our feet **** to tunes not played for ours.
2.6k
Crescendo the silent beat of hearts in chests
at all things nigh and beauty,
or lovers' eyes locked in stargaze wrest,
on cue as sunrise scarlet symphony.
Fortissimo in birdsong chirp and banter
while car horns blare with careless fervour ;
on pavements listless feet in patter
as suits and ties commute in canter.
At noon the music peaks, forzando.
Soccer mums braced in cafe convo
of lunchtime gossip in staccato
while babes in prams asleep in piano.
On cue at sundown scarlet symphony
the baton slows in rallentando.
Call to slumber twilight melody-
the daily music diminuendo.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 7:33 AM UTC
In the darkness, extravaganza,
Flashing, blazing dramas,
Sky rockets and sparklers,
So spectacular,
Fireworks in my brain,
Illumination
Catherine wheels,
Is this for real?
The pyrotechnics,
Was it all a squib?
Crescendo
To diminuendo ....
I float down from clouds above
Another little death of love!
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
Incendiary asperity:
The world's existentiality
Agony, the Merciless & Mercenary
Scourging me entirely.
The Angst of the Aeons
Are the pedigree, the genealogy, the history borne to emancipate Me as a Vessel of Sanctity
For the valiant souls
Are the souls of transcendence, who revere in remembrance
The Amour of the Yore
My Vestibule Heart
Expands, contracts, being consecrated demands just as
Starry-Wombed the Cosmos, we
Must grow, burgeon through our learning & yearning, deserving & pining for the Promise of Morrow
For we were not formed
To wallow in sorrow.
As I gaze to the heavens
O, ***** and Gomorrah I remember
The Wife of Lot looks back forever: emblazoned as a Petrified December,
Then Fire & Sulphur descended, mankind nearly ended;
What is the lesson?
Of faith we are descendants.
Why do you
Roil my ravaged and brutally savaged soul?
Must bitterness be the wage for days spent having prayed
On my knees, for armistice, by The Empyrean One’s decree?
Though I have fallen,
I shall rise up
For the Fate’s Auric Visage radiates light upon the leaven,
Dost ferment the flesh dominating mine spirit.
Hearkening to
The susurrus of the Sovereign of Songbird’s Sacrosanct Love.
Let the Ethereal Tides of Time
Bathe me in baptismal & divine tribulation, trial
For a writhing while,
Sacrality is a war,
The Primal Instinct’s Immemorial Diminuendo.
Where has fake paradise of the Sylvan Shine
Those forested, emerald Eyes
That glisten in mine dreams gone?
Your visage twas my divine.
Though I am forlorn,
The Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love hath sworn
To the Days of Yore
That I shall soar once more.
To my Enfettered Soul,
Excelsior.
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 1:20 PM UTC
I want all the songs that give you goosebumps
to live on one single piece of wax, a low rumble
that spans acres, that stretches for miles in each
direction, that raises the skin of all who can see
and feel its grooves and pushes each of us to swim
in sound.
I want you to find all of the noises that pull you
and hold them in your heart as tightly as you gripped
the note I passed you in class complaining about
our professor's tenuous grasp of English grammar, the
ink sweating through the notebook paper and staining
your fingertips. Hold these noises in your heart and allow
the tones to imprint themselves inside your chest, next to
all your other organs.
I want you to sprawl yourself inside of all of this
calamitous cacophony such that you don't know
where your breath begins or if it's part of the melody
or the harmony or another part entirely that you've
never experienced or thought possible, like alto clef or
diminuendo or a vibration in your stomach that
snaps you back to exactly where you are, exactly
where you are.
I want you inside of all of the waves, inside all
of the resonating structures, like unreinforced
masonry and rebar after a larger earthquake
than any of us anticipated, like a tuning fork
standing tall in the middle of the city, like a
memory you can't get out of your head, like a
cold beachfront property sitting high atop
eroding ground.
I want you to reach over to the stereo and
pause before lowering the volume, thinking of
my face listening and falling in love with the
crashing of instruments and electronic tones
and I want you to know that when I was with
you I was inside of all of it, feeling the rough
edges and all the parts of it and dulling the pain
from your sharp angles jutting out in my direction
and I want you to put yourself in my head and think
what it would be like to have to avoid eye daggers and
unspoken thoughts.
I want you to fall inside of the music and allow
yourself to be pierced by its high treble and
shoved by its low bass and I want you to think of me
and how all the sounds are mine and how you will
never catch me sharing my records with you again
and how the needle pokes your fingertips when you
try to drop it and how that feels, bleeding on the
vinyl, alone.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 8:09 PM UTC
Rainy days and dripping windows,
Once again, beside my pillow,
I lay upon my bed alone,
But in a place to me, unknown.
Day two, beyond the first “hello’s”,
Clouds still hover, and even billow,
They say goodbye to each of their own,
They thunder and sprinkle before heading on home.
After their hastened diminuendo,
Most clouds scatter among the fellow.
I compare to them to see how I’ve grown,
knowing rain brings a harvest from a seed that was sewn.
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 2:57 AM UTC
And it makes me sneeze,
'Cause it's no sea breeze,
So frigid it makes me freeze,
The cold gives me a crease,
It makes me yearn for cheese,
Makes me long for her please,
But I must not be a ******
I will bake some cookies,
'Cause I have all the keys,
I will have to eat 'em alone,
'Cause now she is gone,
Yeah now she is gone,
Will I enjoy eating my cookies,
I doubt it now and I feel dumb.
Now gone with the wind,
She came like a whiff of fresh air,
Removing away all the smiles,
So distant by the miles,
Will I wait for her now?
I will wait for her till I age more,
The more I age the more mature.
Call me mad or ******
Or maybe just a flower,
But I'll stay a lover,
All my life I stay for her,
And I won't call her back,
I don't need her back,
I have the memories.
Over the crescendo in calm,
My ears ring with blood flow,
I won't let my face droop low,
There will only be much pain,
Not will there be any gain,
I was born to lose it all,
My dreams get scattered like pearls.
Happiness dies in diminuendo,
But still failing to pour as tears,
Time is among the best teachers,
Surely among the worst cheaters,
Maybe it's a cycle most ridiculous,
As well as the one most obvious,
Sorrow is born again in my life.
If only I could write it all away,
It would have been much easy,
To prevent my head from the sway,
I feel my fingers trembling,
My joints too have started paining,
Much more to be lost is my sight,
But still would stay alive my vision.
Dec 17, 2014
Dec 17, 2014 at 12:57 AM UTC
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When emerging from a dialogue,
a communion.....with God, taking in
all the good and bad we've poured,
a reassuring calm rests upon us, through
a peaceful silence...a lilt flows in every
word and move...a smile graces all
<<<~>>>
In the midst of chi kung mornings
all energies combine...no one speaks,
a silence enfolds participants...a time
to receive energy, and share...a time
to be strengthened...to strengthen others
<<<~>>>
alone, by the deck of a ferryboat,
with no bouts of mal de mer...a vista
of the limitless horizon, and the flowing
sea, mutes the human voice...gives way
to quiet moments, to mull over things, and
discover one's self......senses are made
aware, by a mist of sea water,
and a swooshing wind that brings
a scent of salt
......a peaceful silence calms the soul
<<<~>>>
a moment comes,
when cacophony heightens.
drums, gongs, church bells and cell
phones ringing, dominate the airs.
in our own found silence, we listen
closely...'til a pleasant beat finally
waves...rhythm is found...and heard,
until music is born....like a dream.
tunes agree, there's nothing left to do
but sing "la-di-das and la-la-las..."
<<<~>>>
late nights, before and beyond midnight
when the night radio rhythmically plays
a crescendo and diminuendo of snores,
i seek for my muse that teases and hides,
there's fun....in the silence of creation...
<<<~>>>
inspiration, suddenly becomes incipient,
it resonates, at times, stubbornly torments,
no sound could ever distract the flow.
<<<~>>>
Schubert's Serenade, or Beethoven's Silence
can only enhance......not crumble, nor ruin
the attempt to create......especially when
silence is most eloquent.....i am rendered
..................impassioned
<<<~>>>
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
September 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 9:07 AM UTC
a combustion of memories
fiercely illuminates the night sky
with a blazing spectrum of red.
amber,
vermilion,
scarlet.
underneath our last plenilune,
the distance between us narrows as rapidly as our
heartbeat's crescendo.
we surrender.
into each other's embrace,
diminuendo.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 6:23 PM UTC
Reverberations resound,
Airwaves surround,
The Holy Ethereal
Transcribes my Soul Sound.
I yearn for freedom,
I sing for heartsease,
I beseech the firmaments,
That musicality conceive
A New Dawn; Millenial Fawn;
Material-Realm Transcendence;
Spiritual Efflorescence,
O, my Spirit is hearkening unto
The Holy Dove's cathexis.
Write from your heart,
Sing from your soul,
Unravel the Perdition
Until The Vestibule of Lightness unfolds.
Dream in stratosphere;
Achieve upon The Terraqueous Plane;
Ascend The Earthen Spire;
Know we each bleed the same.
What is music without love?
What is Heaven without Hell?
The Elemental Legacy beckons you higher,
Legion fatidic arbiters conspire
Rendering self-sovereignty a liar.
Open your eyes,
Unfurl your heart,
Sing to the Aethers
That The Spirit never depart.
This is Musicality's Manifesto,
This is Destiny's Diminuendo;
Therefore,
Know the blaze, fathom the burn
Of unquenched ardor, unyielding zeal;
With passion within, ye
Shall never fail,
So pilgrimage Life's Mecca
Bearing its sacral travail.
(Se' lah)
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 12:17 PM UTC
The time we met would be
allegro, a boisterous time when
I unlearned how to
breath. It became an
allegretto, the
crescendo long behind,
awaiting the
diminuendo with an
alto near the end. It
was like all great
compositions,
feverish until the
fall and
when we fell, oh
how we tumbled,
mesto,
lacrisomo,
con dolore.
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
Forgive me if I’m being recalcitrant
I truly feel lucky to have the chance
To know who you are before what’s between
your pants
My ****** longing for you has me in a naked
dancing trance
You may not know but I feel lucky I caught your glance
And now we’re at the precipice of romance
Close your eyes and open your heart
You’re a ****** to me so I’m throwing darts
I have no diamonds but I’ll take you to the stars
… and we’re kissing and hissing, no touch will be missing, listen to this fiction of fusion conviction, trust intuition and let flow the rhythms as we’re on ****** mission…
And I pull down your bright underwear
Keen on the response I stroke you unawares
You surrender and I lay you there
You’re recumbent and I unleash my monster of erotica and his appetite is severe
How I lament those who never got you to relent
They are absent, I am here present
Ready for this love ascent
As I smooch you all over your body, you stroke me with your fervor
Before I enter, I put on the plastic leather
And I penetrate your foam of juicy vaginal dribble
I enter the gates of grind and fiddle
Slowly I propel my vein of love ‘til it nibbles
I am in the hoard of secrets and with this key I solve a few riddles
Love is in the air as we cohere
The pulp of this sensuous fruit has my sensitivity in jeers
Moans and groans are bellows of this coalescence foam
Like an adolescent teen, watch as I roam
Curling toes and dancing hair
Mellifluous singing and celebratory tears
Wave after wave until the showers save
Spurts rushing out, we have reached the crescendo
Spelling magically the body’s diminuendo
Vibrational frequency on a positive high
Ethereal electric sparks slowly fly
Lost in each other’s eyes, in a moment we live and die
In the silence then, the blows echo
and while you’re still shivering, I lick the *** off you
I **** out the residue in your *******
We lay lazy and squeeze the tension out of each other
--Excuse me if I have been an excessive ****** bother
But this is the first time since I became a celibate spiritual brother.
Feb 14, 2014
Feb 14, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
Oh, long lost Melody,
Antagonize me with your cadence:
That song, dripping from the tip of my tongue
I know you- but not well enough to know how you went
How one moment we were finishing each other’s sentences
But then the very next- I never got the memo I guess-
We switched to syncopation as if I was just supposed to know
The things you loved about me would become my greatest downfall
How foolish was I to think a crescendo would lack a diminuendo
How much stupider was I to think I could still remain your friend though
For how could we have a song without our melody:
Those notes we no longer sing but still remain a part of me
As the itch I can’t scratch or the tip of my tongue-
The parts of me that realize there’s something that I must be missing..
Sep 24, 2018
Sep 24, 2018 at 4:56 AM UTC
You play a perfect harmony to the music of my soul
In 4/4 time the last measure is our goal
You conduct me along with the swift movements of your bow
Sweat collects on your prominent brow as you hit the note a little too low
Andante to vivace my heart rushes to tempo
We hold our fermata embracing the moment, slow
The notes sit on the page while my thoughts dance with the rhythm
They leap and they frolic to the sounds of the broken hymn
A little sharp, maybe flat
Our pulses quicken assai, as though Haydn intended that
Like the Baroque Era wrote for us and our meetings in private
Our handshakes that last long and our glances that are silent
But it won’t last and we will face the caesura of our love
It transpires as we ignore the baton waving above
Our duet will end as it started, quickly, like the flight of a dove
Le Carnaval Des Animaux replicates my scrambled mind
No matter how hard I search, the answers I cannot find
In hectic chaos I’m blind to the clearest option staring straight at me
A simple kiss will suffice in helping me see
For to be the maestro I must know every part
Feel each chord progression and triad deep down in my heart
A kiss will answer if these feelings are true
Or if because of my dreams I have sudden interest in you
Whether the moment is a roar of fortissimo glory
Or it is a disappointing sforzando into the diminuendo of our story
Do you feel a crescendo when our eyes meet for a second?
Like we’re calling each other closer and with each blink we’ve beckoned
One another to draw in the coda finale
Together we may join and our notes, they will rally
By the last bar they’re in unison and our cadence is clear
The next movement will begin, there is nothing to fear
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
She was a rest in a bar full of staccatos.
She was the note played pianissimo and the key that didn’t sing.
She had no forte in her soul, her steps were slurring phrases.
This girl was the music of a broken string.
Hers were the fingers stiff and cold; and the lip plate never kissed.
A metronome of self-doubt always ticking in her ears.
Never allowed a change in tempo, never shown to spread her wings.
Singing lessons from the deaf for 15 years.
The other was a pickup note, anxious to play the tune.
The dancer skipping steps up ledger lines.
The crescendo of passion, the diminuendo of a lullaby,
This girl no blaring trumpet could outshine.
But though her eyes were made of stardust her heart pulsed slowly, portato.
No accompanist, no duet, no conductor to keep the beat.
Her cheeks stung from the disguise, her worry slowed her, legato.
Compensating for loneliness with quick tempo deceit.
But, like broken triads, fate had it the two would somehow fit.
Drawn together as tied notes, destined to play their piece.
One so controlled by the orchestra, the other yearning for a duet.
The enchanting harmony within them had always burned to be released.
They played as one instrument, arpeggios overlapping in a heavenly key.
Swinging in synchronization, the melody swam magically through the night.
No longer controlled by metronomes, no longer stuck singing solo,
Forever, together, their own sheet music they would write.
- p. winter
Apr 10, 2017
Apr 10, 2017 at 7:42 AM UTC
I
Like to
Think about many
Odd oddities about my
Life. It is simply strange
How life works when it has
To do with the happy things. I
Like how it somehow works out for me
In different situations. Mainly the ones that are very
Important. I love life as much as video games. But,
Life can sometimes be the worst phenomenon to exist ever.
It can throw many unforgivable problems that yell at
You. Little problems can turn to massive boulders
On your shoulders. Then those problems make
You question any movement you start
To ponder about. You don't
know who you really
Are. That's why
I hate
Life.
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 10:24 PM UTC
Mouth dry, tongue tied,
So much to say.
Last night, I tried-
Knelt down to pray.
Morning came too soon,
Truth through my window.
I know I'm the moon-
Diminuendo.
Happiness is naive.
All just-for-fun designs.
The pain we keep to grieve-
Vanity of the mind.
We swing from metal framework,
Deep in our beliefs, we fight.
In our dreams, we twitch and ****
Repeating the phrase, "I'm right".
I'm right, I'm right, I'm right, I write,
And God has told me just as much.
I write, I write, I write, "I'm right?"
Gems overflowing from my clutch.
Now I stop to think- shame has made me.
Is it worth bowing to retrieve gold?
I recall when all I sought was glee.
When did life impose this stranglehold?
Everything I know's been built by unknown.
Thought I could make the best of this in time.
I sit here, a clown, laughing at my throne-
It was all I could do to craft a rhyme.
Gun shy, outside,
Nothing to say.
Headlight, eyes wide-
No reason to stay.
Jul 18, 2018
Jul 18, 2018 at 2:47 AM UTC
I feel,
like a sad song looping,
it is without lyrics
that I can finally hear
my voice
raise above
the snare drum of another's
beat
banging
banter
violent
violins
repetitive mood swings
cheap performances
Add
a
slow
subtracting
strum
of the guitar
too single
out
in the crowd
with a crescendo only as
powerful
as the diminuendo
would have been
if only
the record wouldn't have skipped.
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:51 PM UTC
Your laughter, a trill of high notes,
cascading like arpeggios across the ivory keys
of my heart. Each touch, a melody I crave,
a vibrant chord resonating deep within.
Your eyes, the deep bass notes, holding the weight
of unspoken stories, of passions yet to unfold.
I see the rhythm of your soul in their depths,
a slow, deliberate tempo that draws me in.
Your voice, a mezzo-soprano's caress,
weaving tales of joy and sorrow,
a narrative played out on the strings of my being.
Each word, a carefully placed note, building the symphony
of our intertwined lives.
Like the sustain pedal, your presence lingers,
a constant hum beneath the surface,
coloring every phrase, enriching every passage.
Without it, the music feels incomplete, hollow.
There are moments of dissonance, sharp and jarring,
like a wrong note struck in the heat of the moment.
But even these discordant chords contribute
to the complex harmony of our love.
We are a duet, sometimes playing in unison,
our hands moving together in perfect synchronicity.
Other times, we engage in a playful counterpoint,
each voice distinct, yet contributing to the overall composition.
There are movements of loss, a somber adagio,
where the melody falters, and the silence stretches,
heavy and suffocating. The music fades to a whisper,
a lament for what was, and what might have been.
But then, a crescendo of hope, a triumphant allegro,
rising from the ashes of despair.
Redemption echoes in the vibrant chords,
a promise of renewal, a testament to the enduring power of love.
And as the final notes fade into a peaceful diminuendo,
I realize that our love is a sonata,
a masterpiece composed of passion, vulnerability,
and the unwavering belief in the transformative power of connection.
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 9:26 AM UTC
My Uncle spoke of your temper, an emission of cosmic proportion
He said women like you are a pent up volcano waiting to erupt
that you are desolate planetoids to be approached with precaution
He warned of your dormant fire, ready to rupture and disrupt.
My uncle told me to stay away from women like you
because you come carrying huge planets on your back
He warned about your bags of continents I would have to unpack
with secrets to explore and a trail of spiky asteroids on your track
He said women who wield galaxies cannot be tamed,
They are constellations of scars, their hearts are maimed.
they are the reason worlds collide and dimensions bend,
a fusion of impossible realities, a voyage without end.
Each step you take leaves stardust in your wake,
Traversing realms unknown, a cosmic path of terror you make.
A supernova of strength, a force too vast for any man to grasp,
My Uncle saw in you a void in space, he called you a sting of an alien wasp.
He warned of cosmic storms swirling in your core
an extraterrestrial plague that would leave me sore
my Uncle's cautions echo, an undying diminuendo from afar
"Beware of celestial wonders that hide the bizarre."
Jul 13, 2023
Jul 13, 2023 at 3:37 AM UTC
I sat in the bowls of sadness
Racking the days back
Which appeared bitterly delicious
All was the melodious track
Of tragedies playing diminuendo
This has been a trier of cricket
That left its crevice
For a flagrant journey
In a beautiful thorn roads
In a laughing still ocean
A journey that brakes
The darkest still night
In between the land and sea
Seas with fanning gills of catfish
And roads crowded by ugly crocodiles
Betwixt light and covetous darkness
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 4:39 AM UTC