"cantabile" poems
Symphony No.9 in d – minor, opus 125
Allegro ma non troppo
The silence gives way gently
to quiet tremolos rustling
beneath the beckoning
call of distant horns.
A melodic cell, nascent in violins,
spirals down to the somber depths
of cello and contrabass.
A sudden cataclysm
shakes the hall like thunder
heralding our universal birth.
Gales of sonic force
splashed like turbulent waves
against the rocky shores.
Drifting sans glass or sextant
on a sea of expanding mystery,
we gaze to the heavens
in hopes for a glimpse
of our father’s aetherial dwelling.
Molto vivace
With hands intertwined,
we dance in a ring
to the capricious airs
of the laughing gods
with Zeus himself on timpani.
So pass the wine and kiss your neighbor
and fill your glass to the brim!
For today is yesterday’s morrow
and tomorrow’s history.
Adagio molto e cantabile
There is no greater and more healing light
than the candles that shine
in the eyes of a friend
or loving spouse -
tenderly lighting our paths
through the storms and fogs
that cloud our lives.
Peace abides in a friend's embrace.
An die Freude
Against raging storms of
strife and sorrow.
we hear a healing voice
A calm cello hymn -
that migrates up to higher cords
of violas and violins -
breaking into joyous song
sung by trumpets, winds and drums.
Casting all shrillness of discord aside,
a baritone lines out Schiller’s ode -
and sings of Elysium’s daughter.
Quartet and chorus enter in
proclaiming hope for the human family,
A tenor raises a stein to valor
in the company of his friends.
The quiet pulsing of horns and winds
ushers in torrents of ecstasy.
Arms clasped in communal embrace,
we gaze to heaven on bended knees
then rise with a majestic fugue
that illuminates our souls
like a blazing Alpine dawn.
In a cyclone of passion,
Schiller's words and Beethoven's notes
entreat us to restore
what custom has rent apart
that each of us may live our lives
as brothers in heavenly sanctuary.
May 25, 2007
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
intermission with the UMSL Orchestra
The backstage hall was wall-to-wall smiles.
Just moments before,
Barbara Harbach had charged the stage
after we premiered her joyous Jubilee Symphony
screaming at them all the way,
"That was spectacular"!
The Arianna Quartet's Kurt and Joanna
stormed down the steps
spewing out pieces of their minds
in no uncertain terms
"excellent" - "great job" - "beautiful".
I preferred to hang out on the edge
wrapped in the silken echoes
of Tchaikovsky's Andante cantabile
(so eloquently sung by our youthful strings).
Intermission was up and it was
back to work time.
In the abyss of despair
over his dying ears,
Beethoven flooded the world
with the blazing sunglow
of his prophetic second symphony
and it was now up to us
to pass on the word.
Just call me,
"Grateful (underscore) 1".
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 11:46 AM UTC
I want to write a poem for
the sincerity of your fingers
the small silver stream that flows
from the edges of your forehead
to the ends of your hands
the thousands of cyan workers
digging the frets with their bare members
the breath that breeds forget-me-nots
on each rhythmic exhalation
I want to write a poem for
the gentleness of your fingers
the sky that blooms within
explosion after explosion - and then
crushes and then blooms again
the thirsty animals anticipating
patiently the rain
tightly embraced
I want to write a poem for
the taste of your fingers
salt, lustered shells and metal
from carcasses of boats
-one, two, three, four, five
six, seven, eight, nine, ten
forbidden fruits
for as long as this poem holds,
my very own.
Oct 10, 2017
Oct 10, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
Presto,
with haste,
bring forth the measure,
striking sound to create.
Allegro,
with grace,
flow forth like a river,
beauty in God's eternal round.
Moderato,
with taste,
medium to the greats,
note upon note,
slowly mounting.
Andante,
with slackened pace,
venerable vineyard of sound,
sing forth,
no appeasement for the proud.
Adagio,
with measured blow,
The Hammer on anvil,
ring out your chord,
the tonic repeats below.
Presto,
cantabile,
homunculus,
the human voice,
Stradivari sings to us.
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 3:50 PM UTC
There is something divine, of light through clouds,
in that cantabile,
the plaintive, golden chords, minor falls,
radiating from the deepest recess of the soul
a tugging lilt of melody.
To think these might be the lowest harmonies of heaven
the simplest of notes in Gabriel's voice
the sweetest, must be so,
It is a wonder
the heart does not break with beauty.
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
At night, under the dim darkness,
I found, the world’s best tranquilness
Under wafts of water and soap
Folding clothes, dreaming about hope.
Opened the door, felt how snug, warm,
The fabric’s touch was on my arm
As I folded each piece with care
And slowly roll socks, pair by pair.
Ballads, dolce, I am entranced.
Cantabile, as my hands danced
To the guitar's riff, the drumbeat,
Sweet heartbeat, beneath their heat.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 8:00 PM UTC
*Fingers Tangled Together,
Friends Blur Into One Harmony,
One Beating Heart--Breathing All At Once,
We Are Family With Different Blood Lines,
Sisters With Different Shades Of Skin,
Eyes Of Different Views--Yet We See The Same Mother,
Our Lips Form Every Vowel With Grace,
And Every Word Offers Us Embrace,
We Are A Melody Upon A Summer Breeze,
Birdsong In Spring--Because We Have Fell Victim,
To The Allure Of Song*
©SydneyVictoria Feb. 13 2013
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
The singer takes her seat,
In the lifeless and empty room
All alone in silence,
Where the dull gray walls spread the gloom.
Her lips hold rosewater,
And prepare calmly to bestow
Rain upon these wastelands,
To turn it into a meadow.
As the keys are fondled
By fingers like the beams of the moon,
The strings begin to hum
A soothing and sonorous tune.
In chimes of ecstasy,
She narrates the soul's foreign tale,
And releases freely
From out her soul the nightingale.
Nov 28, 2016
Nov 28, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Up and down, play keys in forte,
Faster and faster, only by ear heard.
Cantabile, fortissimo, piano, fine,
A variety of gloom and love in tone.
Echoes all over the wall you feel,
Majestic and grand tells a tale of old.
Vibrato, detache, pizzicato, trill,
Its heartbreaking voice pouring out its soul.
Quiet and smooth, the wind blows through,
Glints of silver, brass, and gold.
Repeat the variation and the solo too,
Then continue at coda big and bold.
Beethoven, Mozart, Handel, Bach,
Music speaks what these quadrants lack.
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 10:32 AM UTC
Je te dis Vous
Ta Majesté
Car vous êtes plurielle
Je vous dis tu
Votre Seigneurie
Car tu es singulière.
Tu ou vous
Vous ou tu
Êtes la dyade
La deuxième personne
Les sœurs siamoises
Démultipliées dans le labyrinthe
De la conjugaison
À tous les temps du verbe et de la chair
Et c'est pour cette raison unique
Que je vous t'aime
Et que je te vous aime
Dodécaphoniquement
Et que je vous conjugue
Et que je vous hume les notes du cou
Et que je te renifle les lunes en rut
Et que les temps s'abolissent
Que les silences deviennent bis
Et les pauses deviennent ut
Et que les dièses et les bémols ouvrent
Les clés de fa et les portées
Et que moderato cantabile je respire
Les noires et les blanches
Les croches et les rondes
Du bas du dos de dentelle
De votre tienne excellence
Ad libitum...
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 4:54 AM UTC