"clarinets" poems
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
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:53 PM UTC
Explosions of grief won't greet her death
Great men won't be summoned to speak
Bands of mourners won't wail at her passing
These gestures she will not seek
Just mingle the day with music and madness
Make the day one drooped in frost
Children must carry her down winding roads
Clarinets must moan her loss
Then at an hour no one knows
A man must visit her grave
He'll kneel and touch her tombstone
And smile a mysterious way
He'll be dressed head to toe in somber black
Conveying his grief gallantly
Just let him place one pink rose at the site
And rejoice in his memories
Jul 7, 2015
Jul 7, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
Her heart is a broken record
Constantly being scratched by knives and scissors
Lost in their quest to find a spot still intact
When put in the old phonograph
It plays a soft melody filled with piano notes
That sound like rain on a gray day
The strings of the violin echoes in the background
Along with the lower tones of the cellos
The solitary saxophone cries;
The flutes and clarinets follow its lead,
Desperately letting out their high notes of agony
Drums emerge blasting anger
Encouraging the rest of the instruments to go along
And when it is about to hit its ******
Another scratch – a deep crooked scratch.
It takes a while before the song starts over.
It’s hard to imagine
This was once a beautiful, shiny vinyl
That stood up in the wooden shelf
Now it is filled with dust
Making company – only – to the Merlot sitting by the desk
And to the ears that can hear nothing
But the harmony of the broken hearted.
Apr 10, 2014
Apr 10, 2014 at 12:04 PM UTC
Burning, he walks in the stream of flickering letters, clarinets,
machines throbbing quicker than the heart, lopped-off heads, silk
canvases, and he stops under the sky
and raises toward it his joined clenched fists.
Believers fall on their bellies, they suppose it is a monstrance that
shines,
but those are knuckles, sharp knuckles shine that way, my friends.
He cuts the glowing, yellow buildings in two, breaks the walls into
motley halves;
pensive, he looks at the honey seeping from those huge honeycombs:
throbs of pianos, children's cries, the thud of a head banging against
the floor.
This is the only landscape able to make him feel.
He wonders at his brother's skull shaped like an egg,
every day he shoves back his black hair from his brow,
then one day he plants a big load of dynamite
and is surprised that afterward everything spouts up in the explosion.
Agape, he observes the clouds and what is hanging in them:
globes, penal codes, dead cats floating on their backs, locomotives.
They turn in the skeins of white clouds like trash in a puddle.
While below on the earth a banner, the color of a romantic rose,
flutters,
and a long row of military trains crawls on the weed-covered tracks.
2k
~
Violins sing of purest flame,
alluring harmonies warm the air
Heart beat crescendos keep time
as ember’d flutes whisper beauty
and misty cellos lull wondrous dreams
on the aria of our love
Treble clef desires
curve softly upon your tender heart
while clarinets breathe amorous
melodies of soothing affection,
enchanting serenades
caress our every silent sigh
Forever playing an eternal
symphony of fire,
burning euphonious,
heated temptations
in ever lasting
orchestral bliss
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
as a whole I have
{been listening to your godawful racket}
ruminated
for an entire rehearsal number
{though it felt like six}
and have a few things I would like to address
as a
{brutal bandslaughter}
kindly input
for your improvement
flutes
{come on now,
have we ever heard of a tuner}
great job, watch your pitch on the A, though
again
{scratch that, where's the shotgun}
...right.
clarinets
first parts play
{no, stupid, you are SECOND part
you got demoted last week
when you couldn't play the riff in
measure nine}
wonderful, now could we take it from letter B
just first clarinets, okay
{FIRST clarinets
FIRST FIRST FIRST
god where's my coffee}
right. let's just move right along, shall we
oboes
oboes, I--
right.
let's have that F again
{you're flat you're sharp and
both of you
just plain ****
okay, one at a time
{oh my LORD my ears are bleeding
who the hell invented this thing}
you're a little sharp
can you fix that
...your reed is old
{you bought it last week}
...you've got spit in it
{you just took an entire twenty measures
of the last movement to
pull out your swab}
...someone broke your horn.
right.
okay French horns
let's hear the G
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 1:44 PM UTC
Piano, piano, soft as moonlight
silken fingers on ivory skin. Glissando --
run your hand up my thigh
plucking every string. Arco, arco.
Softly, softly, the clarinets breath in, breath out
arms envelop me in the tune up,
four notes each fifths apart. Your voice
chimes lovely, the conductor flicks start.
A symphony, a symphony, a whole opera
house inside this bed. Observe me through
small binoculars, roll back your eyes into your head.
Violins slow crescendo, your sigh
an answering phrase from the cello,
listen to the tuba and the piccolo
and the mounting tension. Crescendo, crescendo,
forte, forte. Presto boy, presto. Ritornello.
Fin. Dream with me. Belissimo.
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 7:30 PM UTC
You're always telling me stories you found
To make up for telling me lies
Sometimes I feel that I've had it with you
And just want to head for the sky
I've got to hand it, the platter to you
Without you I'd be lonesome blue
If ever anyone hurt me like you
They'd probably sing these words too
Like you're singing
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
All night and day you can take me away
To your very own special nice place
Play with me
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
You made me to occupy time that you needed
When it was time to get away
And so please
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
You're better off with me playing these games
Then just sitting and wasting away
The song is so merry
And notes keep it cherry
And fingers keep bouncing on keys
And clarinets sing to the french horns that ring
In the air is a freshness it brings
We're holding our hands
And we're dancing around
And we don't even care if we're seen
We're laughing and smiling and happy again
Feeling like we're in our teens
I wink at you as you giggle with me
Suddenly life is serene
Never again can I live life
Without you or someone
I swear that it's this that I mean
And you sing to me
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
All night and day you can take me away
To your own special very nice place
Take me there
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
Take me away
Play
Take all my stress away
Take all my miserable pain
And worry
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
You make my living worth living again
And again
This is all I can say
Come on and
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
Make up a medley, a game, or just play
Play to make time go away
Play with me
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
Move all the strings with your ice cream sticks please
A jiggle just might make me sneeze
Come on, please
Play
Play
Geppetto please play
Forget your worries and just play away
Untill it's another new day
Play
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 8:52 AM UTC
I am from "Shut up" and "Why are you so stupid?"
From an older brother who's opinion for some reason matters
From skinny jeans, skull shirts, dresses, and boots
I'm from cheeseburgers and fries with family and ice cream cake
I'm from hay rack rides on haunted trails during Halloween
I'm From sheet music that comes to life with each note
From the smell of my leather jacket in the rain
I'm from dream boards and bucket lists
From clarinets and microphones
From "you're Michael's little sister?" or "you're Mrs. Hanson's daughter?"
I am from the black, grey and white ball of fur cuddling next to me while I sleep
From my best friends tears as I beg her not to go and trying to make her feel better in hopes she'll be ok
From my boyfriend's smile that transports me to a completely different universe.
I am from days at work and weekends with friends
I am from learning:
There aren't always happy endings but you have to keep trying until you find one
Music and books taught me that we can escape from our reality
And my mom, who taught me everything I know
Sep 10, 2018
Sep 10, 2018 at 4:15 PM UTC
the sky
is
an orchestra of
oboes, clarinets
cellos, strings
and
brass instruments
we make
the
sound of
thunder and lightning
before
the
coronation of storm
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 9:19 AM UTC
It was like a dream -
a paradise of intoxicating scents,
the heat of passionate caresses
then the moaning, convulsive
transfer of genetic information.
Rolling on top she declared her love.
Still panting, he combed
his fingers through her hair and
whispered, “Make me a dad some day, ”
“Good as done, she said”
and clicked her ring to his.
With head thrown back
he said the word again,
“Dad”
It had a solid ring to it,
“Dad”
“Dad, Dad.
WAKE UP, DAD! ”
Searching his way
through the pastel haze,
he saw the visage
of a largish boy-man
hovering over the couch.
spoken sounds gradually coalesced
into familiar vocal code –
“The car keys…”
“To the mall…”
“You promised…”
“Tux for the prom…”
Propping his head on his hands
he surfaced in the land of now.
“You OK Dad? ”
“Sure son and so are you.”
He drew a ring of jingling metal
from his pocket and gave it over -
pointing with his free hand
like a cue for the clarinets,
“Drive carefully son.
Always drive carefully.”
December, 2006
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:19 PM UTC
The sun beating on your face
Sweat drips down your back
You can't move out of your place
No time to go eat a day snack
Commands to the left and right
You reply by yelling your reply
Clarinets sounding shrill and bright
Visuals where you pretend to die
The cheers of the applauding fans
All there to witness a marching program
There to support all the local bands
Not as simple as Mary Had a Little Lamb
The season ends like a firework finale
All hard work and dedication pays off
Until the final band's ferocious rally
They leave the field silently, not even a cough
Dut dut dut, band ten hut, band left face
All the wonderful sounds of a new start
A new year to set the show back in place
And play the music majestically from the heart
Feb 27, 2014
Feb 27, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC
There's a soundtrack stuck in my head.
A whispering, quiet melody.
Flutes and violins take center stage
As cellos and clarinets round out the sound.
The soft plucking of a harp shades and fills in
With the gentle support of a French horn.
And so the basses and the tubas grow louder
As the melody swells
Like a leaf blown higher on the wind.
As it begins to crescendo,
I can feel it in my fingertips--
The emotion of it all.
There's a symphony in your smile,
An orchestral accompaniment
To the twinkle in your eye.
Your laughter is the thumping of the timpani;
Your chuckle the plucking of an upright bass.
Your soft conversing is a harmonic woodwind;
Your finely crafted wit, a lively piccolo.
And your hands gently taking mine,
Cradling them and never wanting to let go,
Is the soft caress of a singing violin.
And when you say, "I love you",
I realize it was you all along.
You are the music in my head,
The soundtrack to my life.
And like we used to do in bygone days,
I would play this music cassette
Over and over and over again
Until the film is faded and cracked,
And there is no more cassette that can be played.
Then I would sit and close my eyes,
And recall it in my memory,
For the music of the heart never fades.
Just like your "I love you's"
And my "I know's".
Oct 13, 2016
Oct 13, 2016 at 10:25 PM UTC
I have always enjoyed the shows
Being in the second row.
Here, I avoid the spittle from the stages,
Felt safe behind third base,
When a line drive missed my face;
Playing sax behind clarinets in Band;
The first row gets chosen first;
I could rest my head on my desk,
Slouch behind raised hands.
An A-Team player always got hurt,
Or worse.
Behind me,
Are infinite rows and tiers,
And each gets a turn;
After second row.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 10:03 PM UTC
My heart aches
Yearning, burning
To find beauty in the mundane
To find meaning in the stirring of the strings
The secrets that hide behind the
Swell of the harmony
Why do our souls
Cling so desperately
To the mountainous musings of the melody
Riding over the hills
Of a despairing land.
The horns scream out the
Pain of the peasants
While the clarinets take up
The whispers of the voiceless
And the flutes cry with the motherless child
But all of that quiets as the black notes sail away
The strings adopt the voice of the man pleading to his star crossed love
To run away
And the woodwinds soon join the chase
Of this dreamy eyed couple from that ****** place
Music moves
It soars it sinks
It carries and spellbinds the wandering soul.
It promises a divine love that will heal
Music is truthful
It tells us that there is something bigger than us
How else could these vibrations
Rip our souls apart and just as quickly sew them back
Every soaring note carrying our dreams to the one that formed us
No other medium could as purely
Convey the true beauty
Of Gods unfailing love for humanity
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
amore hear the melody of....
again again anon anon
bring a symphony of love
to my ears sing with
perfect pitch the perfect song
to the perfect end.
pause...... repose
then here the flautist's
feathered twill
the bass driving
the beat we tap our hearts
together to
french horns and clarinets
bringing fullness to the song of....
amore amore...
ever building the suspense
to a mutual end.
Spent, we cry,
Bravo! Bravo!
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
hear the music
It's funny, when we read.
One hears music of thought.
Light Clarinets with supporting Cello.
Five word sentences for now.
Smooth and gentle tones around.
Seeing the conductor's swaying arms.
We pick up the pace going fast.
Now violins playing quickly back and forth.
Sevens words at a time building expectation.
Nine words brings us almost to the great clash.
The heated strings of the instrument playing ever hard.
The horns gaining confidence and aggression with every second.
Cadance. Cutting into the music. Stopping. The Flow. Chopping. Arms of the conductor. cease.
Soft wind instruments singing
Trombones and Tubas lumbering in.
Cello, Lute, and percussion adding.
Whistles of the Flutes
Quickly rising
as the music picks up tempo
the conductor with more vigor
The energy rising and rising
sporadic outbursts
heading towards the
CLASH of the symbols
Now the music and words flowing with no breaks and stops always filling your ear with this continuous overwhelming yet pleasurable sound of thoughts and ideas bouncing around the walls of your skull the never ending music coming down gluing you to your seat with a cacophony of chaos that makes you read on and on until it
quickly
descends
into
complete
stillness.
Blank balloon of silence punctured by the needle of a Oboe
Sliced by a harp
The symphony of words is endless.
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
I wouldn't have guessed you were so kind.
I wouldn't have guessed you were comforting.
All i saw was a good looking gentleman.
Always eager to see your smile close enough,
Now at the back of my mind it is reflecting like the rays of the sun.
Always eager to hear your voice.
Now am shocked to find out you sing sweet clarinets.
I wouldn't have guessed your honesty
I wouldn't have guessed you cared.
All i saw was a fine walk not much of a meaning behind it.
Always eager to walk besides you
Now i know i can trust you with my all
Always eager to know your name
Now i know that you are just the comforter your name means.
I could have never guessed so well.
Only a dump fairy tale with a sad ending,
Now i wish the whole world knows about my endless dreams,
My shy side safely kept away,
I would have never gained the confidence to say "Hie"
And now that i did my biggest fear is saying "Bye" forever.
now that we share in many similarities,
there is still one thing i pray for dearly
(that you see me worthy to be your 'Ruth')
for in me i see the most finest 'Boaz'
Dec 27, 2016
Dec 27, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
The music started ever so lightly,
The radiant sounds of the violin mixes with the piano.
The echos danced from one surface to another
pleasuring the ear drums of many.
Flutes, clarinets chimed creating a higher harmony
to change the mood deep with in.
A constant heartbeat increasing.
The violins punch each note with suspense and love.
The instruments have their way with words,
in the darkness creating brilliant light.
The music slowly dies, the thunderous applause
travels through out triggering my success.
The room empties leaving me alone on stage to relive the night.
Reliving my creations.
Jul 6, 2011
Jul 6, 2011 at 4:37 AM UTC
I step through the door
of the place which feels
more like home than my house
My ears fill
with sounds of drumsticks on drums
mallets on marimbas
My eyes fall upon flutes, clarinets
trumpets and tubas
I look up at my family
none of which are related to me
yet they
make
this
place
home.
Jul 29, 2019
Jul 29, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
My golden brass
Did you hear a silver tone.
One day I remembered the sound we made.
Oh boy with thirteen trys
I played the song of things.
The sound was a still like a drop of rain.
Great full Holst composed his eyes in vain.
And now im chopping my lips with my dreaded lay over.
Five years ago and now im searching the twenties
For old photographs about the way I played.
My heart stops and excepts the choices I made.
Because the future now the preseant is grey like a grave.
I still dream of film and simpler days.
Like it was still ambitious
When I see trombones sliding and clarinets deciding
What reed made the sound of jazz.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
We,
Only,
See,
Love,
In bits and pieces,
Of,
Us,
Together,
Maybe if you would have called a little bit sooner,
Maybe turn the sky a little bit bluer,
I never seen you in a dress before,
I never seen you in a dress before,
Smile could light up the moon,
Also in its darkest hour,
Beauty to make you do anything,
She had the power,
Of Lovin you.
Tease me into an open casket,
Forgive me if I ever had the thought of looking ratchet,
I never ever judge cause that's your fashion,
Basic teens never quite get a reaction,
She was sure she had me sprung,
She was sure she blew my mind,
She was sure she made it work,
Theres no clock that can handle her time,
There's no other way to be afraid,
There's no other way to be a shame,
Even though your the one to blame,
Two never made it out as a result of getting yourself into an unknown,
That's leaves home grown and clarinets and trumbones,
Everyday is a new wave of doing wrong,
There no there way to say this,
But my boy your going home.
Nov 25, 2014
Nov 25, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
*The Devils popping the bubble wrap
Hail is bouncing off the front door steps
Blustery tree lines wrapped in sheets of lightning
blue , rivers forming at downspouts , thunder
growing louder
Cars come to a crawl
Peace and violence are poised to draw
Suddenly showers stall , a lull ensues
Quiet resumes , the night is rescued
The treefrogs strike a tune , the June bugs swoon
The timid moon looms , the insect musicians balloon
The oboes , the clarinets , the piccolos and the cellos
Sweet voices , the harps , the guitars and the pianos
A whippoorwill calls the orchestra to order ,
the thrushes , mockingbirds , the katydids , the cricket
chorus , the coyotes , the bobcats , the hoot owls and
the sprites
The jays , the cicadas and the songsters of night
Goodbye Old Man Squall , may the creatures of the eve
now come to call , may the maidens of the forest render
ballads of rest , may the fledglings of the morrow lay
peacefully in their nest* ...
Mar 1, 2017
Mar 1, 2017 at 8:19 PM UTC