"chert" poems - Hello Poetry

Heartstone is a reflection in music on a ‘lost’ poem. The poem described in its two short verses a summer’s day, a landscape, a fossil found and placed in the palm of a child’s hand. The poem inspired a seven-movement work for wind, brass and percussion with solo piano. Here is its poetic programme note. Chert The piano draws an arc of rhythm rising then falling. Above two choirs of wind and brass exclaim, fanfare, mark out shorter, determined gestures of sound. The procession, almost a march, becomes a dance. Alone Two choirs of wind and brass become four couples whose music weaves from complexity a simplicity: Chromatic to Pentatonic twelve becoming five. Prase Four stopped horns, five extended tonalities. Together they wander a maze of Pentatonic paths; alone, and in pairs, as a quartet they discover within a measured harmonic rhythm. Tension: resolution . . . and surrounding their every move the piano insists an obligato, a continuum of phrases, absorbing into itself the warp and weft of horn tone. Sard Oscillating in perpetual motion the full ensemble occupies a frame of time and space. Flutes, reeds, double-reeds brass, piano, percussion mirror-fold on mirror-fold layer upon layer overlapping. Yarns of threaded sound. Tuff Without a break the mirrored oscillations patter pentatonics on tuned percussion of marimba and vibraphone whilst a batterie of drums lays down shards of beaten rhythm against this onward folding of tonality change. In the background a choir of winds flutes and single reeds waymark this recursive journey gathering together cadential moments and the necessary pause for breath. Marl Relentlessly, the motion is sustained, piano-driven, a syncopated continuo, rhythm-sectioned amidst layers of percussion. Adding edge, a choir of brass and double reeds amplify the piano’s jagged rhythms providing impetus for phrases to become longer and longer, ratching up the tension, ever-denying closure until the batterie delivers a conclusive flourish. Paramoudra Pulse-figures of winds. Motific cells of brass. Both negotiate a stream of fractal-shaped tonality expanding: contracting. A blossom of fanfares folding into pulsating layers of tuned percussion, flutes and reeds. A dance-like episode absorbs a chorale. Four horns in close harmony against the continuing dance. A duet of differences flows into a cascade of chords in closed and open forms. The piano supports brass-flourishing figures before a final stillness. Heartstone In gentle reflection the solitary piano – a figure in a landscape of collapsed harmonic forms - presents in slow procession the essence of previous music.

0

Jan 27, 2013

Jan 27, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC

nigel-morgan

Heartstone

Heartstone is a reflection in music on a ‘lost’ poem. The poem described in its two short verses a summer’s day, a landscape, a fossil found and placed in the palm of a child’s hand. The poem inspired a seven-movement work for wind, brass and percussion with solo piano. Here is its poetic programme note. Chert The piano draws an arc of rhythm rising then falling. Above two choirs of wind and brass exclaim, fanfare, mark out shorter, determined gestures of sound. The procession, almost a march, becomes a dance. Alone Two choirs of wind and brass become four couples whose music weaves from complexity a simplicity: Chromatic to Pentatonic twelve becoming five. Prase Four stopped horns, five extended tonalities. Together they wander a maze of Pentatonic paths; alone, and in pairs, as a quartet they discover within a measured harmonic rhythm. Tension: resolution . . . and surrounding their every move the piano insists an obligato, a continuum of phrases, absorbing into itself the warp and weft of horn tone. Sard Oscillating in perpetual motion the full ensemble occupies a frame of time and space. Flutes, reeds, double-reeds brass, piano, percussion mirror-fold on mirror-fold layer upon layer overlapping. Yarns of threaded sound. Tuff Without a break the mirrored oscillations patter pentatonics on tuned percussion of marimba and vibraphone whilst a batterie of drums lays down shards of beaten rhythm against this onward folding of tonality change. In the background a choir of winds flutes and single reeds waymark this recursive journey gathering together cadential moments and the necessary pause for breath. Marl Relentlessly, the motion is sustained, piano-driven, a syncopated continuo, rhythm-sectioned amidst layers of percussion. Adding edge, a choir of brass and double reeds amplify the piano’s jagged rhythms providing impetus for phrases to become longer and longer, ratching up the tension, ever-denying closure until the batterie delivers a conclusive flourish. Paramoudra Pulse-figures of winds. Motific cells of brass. Both negotiate a stream of fractal-shaped tonality expanding: contracting. A blossom of fanfares folding into pulsating layers of tuned percussion, flutes and reeds. A dance-like episode absorbs a chorale. Four horns in close harmony against the continuing dance. A duet of differences flows into a cascade of chords in closed and open forms. The piano supports brass-flourishing figures before a final stillness. Heartstone In gentle reflection the solitary piano – a figure in a landscape of collapsed harmonic forms - presents in slow procession the essence of previous music.

112

Brown oak leaves underfoot, last year's sodden reminders that newness always ends. But not today while the creek, silent in summer, chortles about last night's rain, full of spring vigor far below the limestone bluff edge where I stand, chert nodules and fractals peeking through springy new undergrowth, broke down limbs, leaf litter and dark soil. I came for morels but it's too early, too chill yet. Tomorrow's predicted sun may bring them out. Early mayapple sprouts fool me, draw me to admire other understory plants: trillium, maidenhair fern, spring beauty, johnny jump-up and more whose names I knew once but forgot. I came alone and I don't need names. Names mean nothing without voices and other ears. I love the silence I bring here.

0

Apr 28, 2013

Apr 28, 2013 at 9:54 PM UTC

brett-houser

Spring Day, Overcast

Brown oak leaves underfoot, last year's sodden reminders that newness always ends. But not today while the creek, silent in summer, chortles about last night's rain, full of spring vigor far below the limestone bluff edge where I stand, chert nodules and fractals peeking through springy new undergrowth, broke down limbs, leaf litter and dark soil. I came for morels but it's too early, too chill yet. Tomorrow's predicted sun may bring them out. Early mayapple sprouts fool me, draw me to admire other understory plants: trillium, maidenhair fern, spring beauty, johnny jump-up and more whose names I knew once but forgot. I came alone and I don't need names. Names mean nothing without voices and other ears. I love the silence I bring here.

24

The truth hurts As bad as dirts Better respect it's spurt Stimulating like a glance in that mini skirt generating images of hands in my shirt Better be told with smile like a flirt Than withholding enslaved in a chert

0

Sep 4, 2012

Sep 4, 2012 at 5:49 AM UTC

james-gibek-jude

Truth

The truth hurts As bad as dirts Better respect it's spurt Stimulating like a glance in that mini skirt generating images of hands in my shirt Better be told with smile like a flirt Than withholding enslaved in a chert

7

feldspar conglomerate pyrite flakes sparkle basalt backdrop …granted, the granite is liken to a gneiss but placed near the soap or sand it stands alone without chip-ability raw uncut opal sending prisms dancing against the distorted garnet plug – her ruby lips shown bright against the chert and ashen speckles of flint diamond twinkles fall from topaz tear ducts land softly on an emerald blazer adorned with ruby buttons – ****** at the rock show I marvel and the marble and experience simpatico with a sapphire while the tourmaline tantalizes my taste buds sending me reeling into a radical thunder egg as the agates flew willy-nilly I groped blindly for a brick to steady myself but instead fell hard onto the concrete or was it asphalt…. either way, I may as have well been tarred and feathered dipped in oil and sent to the borax plant –

0

Nov 3, 2015

Nov 3, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC

s-lyman-temple

truly, a gravelly tale

feldspar conglomerate pyrite flakes sparkle basalt backdrop …granted, the granite is liken to a gneiss but placed near the soap or sand it stands alone without chip-ability raw uncut opal sending prisms dancing against the distorted garnet plug – her ruby lips shown bright against the chert and ashen speckles of flint diamond twinkles fall from topaz tear ducts land softly on an emerald blazer adorned with ruby buttons – ****** at the rock show I marvel and the marble and experience simpatico with a sapphire while the tourmaline tantalizes my taste buds sending me reeling into a radical thunder egg as the agates flew willy-nilly I groped blindly for a brick to steady myself but instead fell hard onto the concrete or was it asphalt…. either way, I may as have well been tarred and feathered dipped in oil and sent to the borax plant –

28

You’ll find a turtle walking slow, or in the sea prepared to go a thousand miles before its old. It migrates without being told. You’ll find deer mostly in the deep, and every one knows when to sleep and when to stay awake to feed. They do the things they know they need. You’ll find a tree that buds in spring, and every year it leaves a ring inside a ring. It also knows to lose its leaves before it snows. And grasses grow in rocks and chert, and roots go dormant when the dirt becomes too cold for them to swell and pull cool water from a well. And rocks will weather when they thaw, and shatter when the weather’s raw, and leave behind the smallest grains to nourish all things when it rains.

0

Jul 4, 2016

Jul 4, 2016 at 8:26 AM UTC

robert-e-moore

Circles

You’ll find a turtle walking slow, or in the sea prepared to go a thousand miles before its old. It migrates without being told. You’ll find deer mostly in the deep, and every one knows when to sleep and when to stay awake to feed. They do the things they know they need. You’ll find a tree that buds in spring, and every year it leaves a ring inside a ring. It also knows to lose its leaves before it snows. And grasses grow in rocks and chert, and roots go dormant when the dirt becomes too cold for them to swell and pull cool water from a well. And rocks will weather when they thaw, and shatter when the weather’s raw, and leave behind the smallest grains to nourish all things when it rains.

20

Lung tree Drink me Take in that consequential Energy And please Touch the sun with buds and dance Perpetually Until the day is said and done Concrete Upon what day will you melt to butter? In what age will you split Asunder And our squishy nubs will touch The naked land Of younger To caress trampled memory Great comet Of the heated sky Roll chariots to the marble Castle far by Draw the ceiling and cast alight The endless view of the constant night Great God of mine. In the photobooth We do a silly face Clicking the parsecs back into focal View And drawing upon that inflationary Balloon To which we ride A darling damselfly Old and full of chitionous youth Old dirt Move softly your mother And place her dead things upon the nether To compress into flaking chert And ****** from the depths An exhibit of great feature The future of us Lost within The earth Great road I see not where your terminus goes I know not from what strange township You built the mountains and tumbled abyss But when we shall be missed And the world will roll on with constant bliss Forgetful of the citation of our greatest works And the obliteration of everything Timeless.

0

Aug 3, 2018

Aug 3, 2018 at 3:35 PM UTC

TimelessWave

Give me Mine

Lung tree Drink me Take in that consequential Energy And please Touch the sun with buds and dance Perpetually Until the day is said and done Concrete Upon what day will you melt to butter? In what age will you split Asunder And our squishy nubs will touch The naked land Of younger To caress trampled memory Great comet Of the heated sky Roll chariots to the marble Castle far by Draw the ceiling and cast alight The endless view of the constant night Great God of mine. In the photobooth We do a silly face Clicking the parsecs back into focal View And drawing upon that inflationary Balloon To which we ride A darling damselfly Old and full of chitionous youth Old dirt Move softly your mother And place her dead things upon the nether To compress into flaking chert And ****** from the depths An exhibit of great feature The future of us Lost within The earth Great road I see not where your terminus goes I know not from what strange township You built the mountains and tumbled abyss But when we shall be missed And the world will roll on with constant bliss Forgetful of the citation of our greatest works And the obliteration of everything Timeless.

50

Obsidian Lanceolate Auriculate Ovaloid Folsom Clovis Chert Chip VV V

0

Sep 26, 2021

Sep 26, 2021 at 7:41 AM UTC

connecthook

Get to the Point

Obsidian Lanceolate Auriculate Ovaloid Folsom Clovis Chert Chip VV V

10