| Author |
Subject |
Betsy
C 
Registered User
(4/17/01 9:41:28 am)
Reply |
Cello
or music related poetry- please help!
April is Poetry Month, so I have
been told. I am working with the Young Women's group at my church
(yeah, it's a lot of fun- they're great!) and we are going to all
bring poems that have personal meaning to us and have our own poetry
reading Thursday night. I have a favorite animal poem I was thinking
about, but do any of you know of any poems with cellos/stringed
instruments/music related themes that you'd share? Do you know of
any links to poetry so that I can look it up myself?
I never
really delved into poetry too much, (I always liked music better!)
and now I am paying the price. The girls and I would really
appreciate it. Thanks in advance for your help.
|
Peter
D
Registered
User
(4/17/01 11:43:47 am)
Reply |
Where
do we find ourselves?
The following lines written by E.
Dickinson may be considered to be a metaphorical anthem describing
the journey undertaken by performing artists, as follows:
I
stepped from Plank to Plank
A slow and cautious way
The Stars
about my Head I felt
About my Feet the Sea.
I knew not but
the next
Would be my final inch-
This gave me that precarious
Gait
Some call Experience.
She is walking the only path
available, "from Plank to Plank," but her slow caution ironically
juxtaposes with a titanism in which she feels "The Stars about my
Head," though her feet very nearly are in the sea. Not knowing
whether the next step will be her "final inch" gives "that
percarious Gait" she will not name , except to tell us that "some"
call it Experience.
|
Laura
Wichers
Moderator
(4/17/01 12:16:01 pm)
Reply |
Re:
Cello or music related poetry- please help!
There once was a babboon,
Who
played the bassoon.
And said, in five thousand years
I shall
surely hit upon a tune.
-anon.
*****
PIANO
TUNER, UNTUNE ME THAT TUNE
I regret that before people can be
reformed they have to be sinners,
And that before you have
pianists in the family you have to have
beginners.
When it
comes to beginners' music
I am not enthusic.
When listening to
something called "An Evening in My Doll House," or "Buzz,
Buzz,
Said the Bee to the Clover,"
Why I'd like just once to hear it
played all the way through, instead of that
hard part near the
end over and over.
Have you noticed about little fingers?
When
they hit a sour note, they lingers.
And another thing about
little fingers, they are always strawberry-jammed or
cranberry-jellied-y,
And "Chopsticks" is their favorite
melody,
And if there is one man who I hope his dentist was a
sadist and all his teeth
were brittle ones,
It is he who
invented "Chopsticks" for the little ones.
My good wishes are
less than frugal
For him who started the little ones going
boggie-woogal,
But for him who started the little ones picking
out "Chopsticks" on the ivories,
Well I wish him a thousand
harems of a thousand wives apiece, and a
thousand little ones by
each wife, and each little one playing "Chopsticks" twenty-four
hours a day in all the nurseries of all his harems, or
wiveries.
-Ogden Nash
*****
You're probably
looking for more serious stuff than this, but hey, they're fun to
read!
Laura
|
cyn38
Registered
User
(4/17/01 3:26:44 pm)
Reply |
Re:
Cello or music related poetry- please help!
Betsy,
I have a dear friend
who writes exceptional poetry. He has two wonderful poems on his
favorite composer, Gustav Mahler. One is about Mahler in general,
the other on his 9th symphony. While I think they are fabulous, I'm
not sure your young women would appreciate them as would those who
know and love Mahler. I'd be happy to share them with you if you're
interested.
--cyn
PS: Are these young women from YWMIA? 
cynsymphony@aol.com
|
yo
yo jr
Registered
User
(4/17/01 10:01:44 pm)
Reply |
another
another E. Dickenson poems talks
about a Violincello, not violon, violin!!!
|
Patricia2
Registered User
(4/18/01 2:08:53 pm)
Reply |
Have
you checked out www.poetry.com?
|
Paul
Tseng ICS Staff 
Administrator
(4/18/01 8:54:45 pm)
Reply
 |
Re:
Have you checked out www.poetry.com?
Hey, I'm listed in poetry.com (SSP
police alert!)
I wrote a poem for my wife there entitled
"Eternity"
Paul Tseng
My Website
Alexander's website
Free Cello Music!
|
galois00
Registered User
(4/18/01 10:15:47 pm)
Reply |
Re:
Cello or music related poetry- please help!
Cyn,
You're dating
yourself--it hasn't been YWMIA for a long time!
Dan
|
galois00
Registered User
(4/18/01 10:35:38 pm)
Reply |
O'Shaughnessy's Ode
Betsy,
The poetry evening
sounds like a great idea. A poet named Arthur O'Shaughnessy wrote a
work called "Ode" that was set to music by Elgar as "The Music
Makers." It's long, for which I apologize, but it seems to
fit:
We are the music makers,
And we are the dreamers of
dreams,
Wandering by lone sea-breakers,
And sitting by
desolate streams;
World-losers and world-forsakers,
On whom
the pale moon gleams:
Yet we are the movers and shakers
Of the
world for ever, it seems.
With wonderful deathless
ditties,
We build up the world's great cities,
And out of a
fabulous story
We fashion an empire's glory:
One man with a
dream, at pleasure,
Shall go forth and conquer a crown;
And
three with a new song's measure
Can trample a kingdom
down.
We, in the ages lying
In the buried past of the
earth,
Built Nineveh with our sighing,
And Babel itself with
our mirth;
And o'erthrew them with prophesying
To the old of
the new world's worth;
For each age is a dream that is
dying,
Or one that is coming to birth.
A breath of our
inspiration,
Is the life of each generation.
A wondrous thing
of our dreaming,
Unearthly, impossible seeming-
The soldier,
the king and the peasant
Are working together in one,
Till our
dream shall become their present,
And their work in the world be
done.
They had no vision amazing
Of the goodly house they
are raising.
They had no divine foreshadowing
Of the land to
which they are going:
But on one man's soul it hath broke,
A
light that doth not depart
And his look, or a word he hath
spoken,
Wrought flame in another man's heart.
And
therefore today is thrilling,
With a past day's late
fulfilling.
And the multitudes are enlisted
In the faith that
their fathers resisted,
And, scorning the dream of
tomorrow,
Are bringing to pass, as they may,
In the world, for
its joy or its sorrow,
The dream that was scorned
yesterday.
But we with our dreaming and singing,
Ceaseless
and sorrowless we!
The glory about us clinging
Of the glorious
futures we see,
Our souls with high music ringing;
O men! It
must ever be
That we dwell, in our dreaming and singing,
A
little apart from ye.
For we are afar with the dawning
And
the suns that are not yet high,
And out of the infinite
morning
Intrepid you hear us cry-
How, spite of your human
scorning,
Once more God's future draws nigh,
And already goes
forth the warning
That ye of the past must die.
Great
hail! we cry to the corners
From the dazzling, unknown
shore;
Bring us hither your sun and your summers,
And renew
our world as of yore;
You shall teach us your song's new
numbers,
And things that we dreamt not before;
Yea, in spite
of a dreamer who slumbers,
And a singer who sings no
more.
Whew!
Dan
|
Betsy
C
Registered User
(4/19/01 9:49:04 am)
Reply |
Again,
you all are terrific!
Thanks for the help. Great responses
all! Paul, I read your poem. It was lovely, very heartfelt and
sincere. It will be interesting to see what the young women bring
tonight as representative of their feelings and emotions. What a
responsibility! I just hope I am up to the task (tee-hee...it's been
many years since I was their age), but I really think the world of
them and hope that I can benefit them somehow. I know I learn a
whole lot from them as well.
|
Walter
Lenel
Registered
User
(4/19/01 10:10:52 am)
Reply |
Re:
Cello or music related poetry- please help!
And ANOTHER couple of LDS people pop
up on Cello Chat! :-) Let's see, that's about 6 that I know of so
far.
|
Val
M
Registered
User
(4/19/01 10:27:09 pm)
Reply |
"Villa-Lobos Lugs his Cello..." poem
Here's a charming one for you! (A
friend of mine stumbled on it while looking for material on
Villa-Lobos.) You'll find it
at:
http://www.rdpl.red-deer.ab.ca/villa/frutkin.html
|
sarah
schenkman
Registered User
(4/20/01 7:25:02 am)
Reply |
LDS?
|
JanJan2
Registered User
(4/20/01 7:54:11 am)
Reply |
Latter
Day Saints?
Janet
|
cyn38
Registered
User
(4/20/01 9:40:15 am)
Reply |
LDS =
Latter Day Saint
Sarah and Jan,
You're
correct. LDS is an abbreviation for Latter Day Saints, which is an
abbreviation for the church's full name, which is: The Church of
Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints. YWMIA is in reference to the
youth organization for girls ages 12-18(Young Women Mutual
Improvement Association), which I used to belong to. These days it's
just called "Young Womens".
I'm sorry to have used lingo
that wasn't completely understood by all. Guess it's good we weren't
talking medical. You'd be really lost if I slipped into my charting
shorthand
--cyn,rn
cynsymphony@aol.com
|
cyn38
Registered
User
(4/21/01 12:55:54 am)
Reply |
Leavetaking To Mahler's Ninth
At Betsy's request, I include for
the group at large the following two poems written by a friend of
mine. This one has won two poetry awards at National poetry events.
The author considers himself a Mahler expert, and has dedicated
himself to a life-long study of the man and his music.
Enjoy--
cyn
LEAVETAKING TO MAHLER'S
NINTH
O musical prophet, you fill my cup with death.
You
ask me to drink so I may become a conspirator.
Your sonic
prophesies of annihilation
usurp the ordinary and bewitch my
senses.
I am a worm taught to fly; a frog taught to sing.
At
once I learn the wisdom of the foolish
and the foolishness of the
wise.
And the transiency of all kingdoms.
While, seeped in
sensuous pleasures, I accept
by either a bang or a
whimper
All-encompassing obliteration.
The final golden
thread of your great adagio takes me away.
Riding it, I fade with
the slowness of the death of time.
Dwindling, my hands drift
open, limbs part;
Organs, blood and thoughts turn to
ice.
Every activity of my body and mind ceases and submits
to
this single thread of sound:
A crawling umbilical cord that is my
only bond to existence.
And I realize I must ride this seductive
chord,
Immersed in my last joys and pains, to the final cosmic
silence.
And so, I slip away -- feel a stinging, crushing
despair...
Then a surge of hope, short-lived, replaced soon by
the
return of anguish.
The golden musical chord of life is
stretching
out...
Expanding...thinning...pianissimo...
Breaking
up...becoming softer...langsam...fading...out.
A breath of
silence. Then a returning strand...clinging...
Two
strands...hovering...in resignation, they melt away...
One
strand...dissolving...dying...
...whisper...hush...shhh....air....
Nothing.
The
ticking of a pickering against plastic.
Consciousness sweeps in,
as, with a rush of feeling,
existence returns.
Lifting the
tone-arm from the phonograph record,
I stretch myself like a
newly-born infant
and make a discovery.
You have purified
me.
I am alive, Herr Mahler.
I am alive!
Robert E.
Blenheim
9/28/91
cynsymphony@aol.com
|
cyn38
Registered
User
(4/21/01 1:09:01 am)
Reply |
The Joy
of the Death of Creation
Here's the second of the two Mahler
poems written by my friend, the poet, and Mahler-expert.
THE
JOY OF THE DEATH OF CREATION
it's come to my
attention
gustav m
that in order to create my own
bemusings
i must not listen to yours
for
like yanking the
lid off the pressure cooker
or like sticking a spike into a
yellow balloon
everything hits the walls like a hurled plate of
pasta
with the force of a flipped grenade into a
foxhole
mozart yes
penderecki yes
but gustav
m
though i love your music even more than the
world
no
letting the air out of my tires
will not let me
drive across sentences
on either rainy or sunlit
roads
however
i listen to your adagios
not just the
golden voice
of the fields...the flowers...the planets...the
suns
but also the doubt...the pain...the silence...the
dark
singing of eternal love
singing of interplanetary
death
i surrender
my poetry
gustav m
i give it
up
Robert E. Blenheim
1/18/01
cynsymphony@aol.com
|
Nicholas
Anderson
Registered User
(4/24/01 2:00:38 am)
Reply |
Three
to ponder...
Well, I was out of town, and didn't
have access to my "files" - so, this missed the date of last
Thursday. However, in case anyone might not be familiar with the
following poetic items, they may be interesting or useful for other
occasions, or just in general.
For the first and third ones,
I've never been able to find out the authors. Nevertheless, here
they are - enjoy!
-Nick
__________
BEETHOVEN OF THE
LAST GREAT WORKS
["Muss es sein? Es muss sein."]
Deaf,
old, alone, diseased,
Displeasing all, by all the world
displeased,
He hurled himself into the sun's own orbit,
With
bare hands from creation's cauldron seized
Raw, searing sound,
shaping it into song
On the anvil of his wound,
Augmenting in
jubilant progression
The human thirst and thrust for
light
Beyond the blinding blight of being,
Himself unconsoled,
unfree, unloved, demanding
"Must it be?"
In unanswered agony
transposing life's abiding cruelty
To boldly dominant
sublimities,
An exaltation new to earth was given birth
By his
gnarled, knowing, solitary self
Intimate only with the painful,
playful, unpredictable
Violence of the universe, in whose vast
counterpoint
His silence drowned.
But then, past the bend to
winter's raging end,
As Beethoven forged the last great themes
and harmonies,
Dripping fire across dark space
Like new-born
galaxies,
He heard clear and sweeter than remembered bird
song
The all resolving triad
"It must be,"
Falling like
sunlight on his heart's surrendered empire.
__________
THE
STILLNESS OF THE WORLD BEFORE BACH
[by Lars
Gustafsson]
There must have been a world before
the Trio
Sonata in D, a world before the A minor Partita,
but what kind of
a world?
A Europe of vast empty spaces,
unresounding,
everywhere unawakened instruments
where the
Musical Offering, the Well-tempered Clavier
never passed across
the keys.
Isolated churches
where the soprano line of the
Passion
never in helpless love twined round
the gentler
movements of the flute,
broad soft landscapes
where nothing
breaks the stillness
but old woodcutters' axes,
the healthy
barking of strong dogs in winter
and, like a bell, skates biting
into fresh ice;
the swallows whirring through summer air,
the
shell resounding at the child's ear
and nowhere Bach nowhere
Bach
the world in a skater's stillness before
Bach.
__________
I AM MUSIC
I am music. I make the
world weep and laugh, wonder and worship.
I tell the story of
love, the story of hate, the story that saves and the story that
destroys.
I am the incense upon which prayers float to
Heaven. I am the smoke which palls over the field of battle where
men die with me on their lips.
I am close to the marriage
altar, and when the grave opens I stand nearby. I call the wanderer
home, I rescue the soul from the depths; I open the lips of lovers
and through me the dead whisper to the living.
One I serve as
I serve all, and the king I make my slave as easily as I subject his
slave. I speak through the birds of the air, the insects of the
field, the crash of waters on rock ribbed shores, the sighing of the
winds in the trees, and I am even heard by the soul that knows me in
the clatter of the wheels on city streets.
__________
| |
Email This To a
Friend
Topic Commands
(Moderator only)
About
House & Techno