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"mendelssohn" poems
A cowboy in love with his horse was convinced they should marry, of course. They’d spent quality time roping cattle And he was happiest when in the saddle. “Love is Love, the high court has opined, So why should folks deny me mine!” The neighborhood blondes he found silly, So he went for long rides with the fillies. While he flirted with Pintos and Roans, the Palomino he loved as his own. Such idylls they spend in the bower That he threw her a nice bridle shower. He rented a barn as the hall and invited his friends one and all. While Mendelssohn is favored by most He chose the “Call to the Post” For their first dance he hoped they could play “The Run for the Roses” that day. All his plans came to naught, sad to say When the love of his life answered” Neigh” If an animal is your “one and only” Better make it a sheep, not a pony!
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Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 7:38 AM UTC
The Bride wore Horseshoes
Axel, who never had a rocking horse, once rode a bright blue tricycle. He called it his ‘Athenian Rhapsody’. He loved to play the tuba in bed, and when he was feeling particularly happy, would sit on the loo in the outside shed, pants around his ankles oompa-pa’ing till the cows came home. That was quite a while ago; the tuba and the tricycle have gone, yet he can still hear the triangle sound the bell made on his tricycle, and still remembers the scraping of the old keys on the ancient tuba. Axel listens to old sounds very well (all the time): he loves Bach, Mendelssohn and Donovan. He loves to eat crumpets with honey and drink a large white mug of milky tea; it reminds him of summer fishing trips to Lake Eucumbine, mushrooms and gnats in the full-sun morning air, (he loves to talk fishing when he’s playing chess with Carl the orderly, often quoting from his favourite magazine, ‘Modern Fly Fishing’). Axel was once an expert at fly fishing; tying the ‘super moonshadow’ to perfection (he named the fly after what he thought was a Donovan song, written by Cat Stevens). When the hospital staff remember to buy him a new box, Axel loves to drink Lady Grey tea made from tea bags, he prefers tea bags, he feels that somehow they bring clearer definition to tea making. Axel thinks a lot about definition, noting how the edges of his bed are very clearly defined by the clean-blue hospital blankets that drop suddenly to the ocean of the grey linoleum floor. He likes the smell of cleanblue, it’s somehow a new sea to sail and sometimes the feel of his favourite jumper when he was a boy: a definite edge of beginning and end. He knows that soon he’ll cross the floor-grey ocean, sailing under a white sheet. But this is not a thing Axel dwells on for very long, he prefers to think of such things as his next chess move and flirting with Miriam the night nurse. — Axel has just beaten Carl in a game of chess. He’s said goodnight to Miriam, a long quiet goodnight, a good long, good night. He won’t wake again, he senses this – and is peaceful. When his last breath comes he hears; a faint scraping sound and a single precious note from a triangle bell on a bright blue tricycle. They’re good sounds. They are old sounds. They bring him…
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 8:10 AM UTC
Axel
Axel, who never had a rocking horse, once rode a bright blue tricycle. He called it his ‘Athenian Rhapsody’. He loved to play the tuba in bed, and when he was feeling particularly happy, would sit on the loo in the outside shed, pants around his ankles oompa-pa’ing till the cows came home. That was quite a while ago; the tuba and the tricycle have gone, yet he can still hear the triangle sound the bell made on his tricycle, and still remembers the scraping of the old keys on the ancient tuba. Axel listens to old sounds very well (all the time): he loves Bach, Mendelssohn and Donovan. He loves to eat crumpets with honey and drink a large white mug of milky tea; it reminds him of summer fishing trips to Lake Eucumbine, mushrooms and gnats in the full-sun morning air, (he loves to talk fishing when he’s playing chess with Carl the orderly, often quoting from his favourite magazine, ‘Modern Fly Fishing’). Axel was once an expert at fly fishing; tying the ‘super moonshadow’ to perfection (he named the fly after what he thought was a Donovan song, written by Cat Stevens). When the hospital staff remember to buy him a new box, Axel loves to drink Lady Grey tea made from tea bags, he prefers tea bags, he feels that somehow they bring clearer definition to tea making. Axel thinks a lot about definition, noting how the edges of his bed are very clearly defined by the clean-blue hospital blankets that drop suddenly to the ocean of the grey linoleum floor. He likes the smell of cleanblue, it’s somehow a new sea to sail and sometimes the feel of his favourite jumper when he was a boy: a definite edge of beginning and end. He knows that soon he’ll cross the floor-grey ocean, sailing under a white sheet. But this is not a thing Axel dwells on for very long, he prefers to think of such things as his next chess move and flirting with Miriam the night nurse. — Axel has just beaten Carl in a game of chess. He’s said goodnight to Miriam, a long quiet goodnight, a good long, good night. He won’t wake again, he senses this – and is peaceful. When his last breath comes he hears; a faint scraping sound and a single precious note from a triangle bell on a bright blue tricycle. They’re good sounds. They are old sounds. They bring him…
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12
May the furnace burn us So that we might rise from crash's ashes Like the Phoenix as Felix Pounds out a bravado sonata Something brash and passionate Like abstract fashion it Causes conundrums among tongues Flapping, rolling, lapping, growing Synaptic tactics mapping spastic Canals through the fungal jungles Of minds melting from psilosybin I been Growing dendrites as my pen writes Reaching Zen heights while the men fight.
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Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
Phoenix Mendelssohn
There in the fringe of trees between the upper field and the edge of the one below it that runs above the valley one time I heard in the early days of summer the clear ringing six notes that I knew were the opening of the Fingal's Cave Overture I heard them again and again that year and the next summer and the year afterward those six descending notes the same for all the changing in my own life since the last time I had heard them fall past me from the bright air in the morning of a bird and I believed that what I had heard would always be there if I came again to be overtaken by that season in that place after the winter and I would wonder again whether Mendelssohn really had heard them somewhere far to the north that many years ago looking up from his youth to listen to those six notes of an ancestor spilling over from a presence neither water nor human that led to the cave in his mind the fluted cliffs and the wave going out and the falling water he thought those notes could be the music for Mendelssohn is gone and Fingal is gone all but his name for a cave and for one piece of music and the black-capped warbler as we called that bird that I remember singing there those notes descending from the age of the ice dripping I have not heard again this year can it be gone then will I not hear it from now on will the overture begin for a time and all those who listen feel that falling in them but as always without knowing what they recognize
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1.3k
The Source
Once again I find the morning light breaks through my eyes and wakes this sleeping mind, it seems the dreams will have to wait or shall I not cooperate? Tschaikovsky Tuesday is a nutcracker I try to be PC but it still breaks my ***** When I get there if I get there I'll send a postcard or a telegram I need no internet and informative technology is not the thing I want to be or see when I get there. Good morning Mendelssohn 'tis not midsummer nor is it night, dream on. Suspended on my eyelashes each moment flashes to briefly burn all things cease and here on the plateau I find again the stillness wherein lies the peace.
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May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 11:44 PM UTC
Hemmorhaging is not a Bavarian hamlet
Music sang the the soul. Of a little girl, Who's only goal, Was to play. Anything from, Beethoven to Bach, Mendelssohn, And Debussy. Art opened the heart, Of a lost older girl, Who didn't know, What was true, She painted, From morning, Till night. Alone in her room. She wanted to write. The words fresh, In a fragile mind, Afraid to say, Or tell, The story, Of pain. And Triumph. The notes of the music, Started to mesh, The paint, On the brush, It faded. Words lost, In translation, Losing meaning. She chose a safe path. One without risk. Without pain, Or seeming, Completely alone. She needed, Perfect mediocrity.
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Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:37 AM UTC
Perfect Mediocrity.
Poetry is a mirror of our soul but also a window to the outside world---that which is external and tangible--neither is complete without the other but it's only the inner side of us that understands the deeper meaning of life and all things.  It's strange but true---the intangible is mysterious, profound and has power and resources latent within us--most of which we aren't even aware---until kindled and brought to light by the muse of poetry.  Then a clear light dawns upon us and we begin to see and understand things better.  The 'physical we' is, in my view,  of lesser significance than the 'abstract we' or should I say the 'essential we'?---that which can be seen, handled or articulated is only the periphery of truth and things but not the core--we are larger than what we think  but we don't grasp this as we are lost in the banality and humdrum of daily life--we are walking shadows rather than light and fall short of our real potential. Talking of language and music, Felix Mendelssohn wrote (my paraphrase): words mean less to me than music and it's music that speaks clearer to me.         All said, man is a mystery as life is but they intersect--at every point.
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May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 8:49 PM UTC
My Note To A Fellow-Writer in HP*
Music sang the the soul. Of a little girl, Who's only goal, Was to play. Anything from, Beethoven to Bach, Mendelssohn, And Debussy. Art opened the heart, Of a lost older girl, Who didn't know, What was true, She painted, From morning, Till night. Alone in her room. She wanted to write. The words fresh, In a fragile mind, Afraid to say, Or tell, The story, Of pain. And Triumph. The notes of the music, Started to mesh, The paint, On the brush, It faded. Words lost, In translation, Losing meaning. She chose a safe path. One without risk. Without pain, Or seeming, Completely alone. She needed, Perfect mediocrity.
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Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 4:38 AM UTC
Perfect Mediocrity.
Music background:   Mendelssohn Violin Concerto no.2. Figure: two beggar sisters Background: autumn, double rainbow, butterfly, accordion, birds, horses, cattle, and sheep Scene: a large meadow _________ Not far from the painter’s window two beggar sisters sitting in a large meadow He whistles the birds’ melody, the distant mountain, he sees horses and cattle lowing, after thunderstorm, autumn day The painter silently watches the two sisters Has she finished playing and dropping her little accordion without noticing? Will her sister tell the blind girl double rainbows in the darkening sky? Wind heavily blowing at the worn-clad pair And he sees the red haired blind girl gently hold her sister Can you tell me of these autumn colours? The painter sees the double rainbow across the eastern sky He swiftly sketches through the window He paints his heart sympathic love Will the blind girl feel joyous like yellow? Perfumes dark green, vibrant like red enrich their hope
Where the double rainbow appears in the eastern sky The painter paints his inner calm, butterfly tranquil mauve.
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Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 3:35 PM UTC
Millais: ‘The blind girl’
Miss G talked of Mendelssohn put on some record of some cave Yehudit looked back at me at the back of class and smiled her eyes and that smile drove me wild moved me to thinking things Reynard sat next to me drawing a matchstick figure of Miss G in his exercise book at the back the music started up the rest of the kids in class sat still and listened Yehudit turned to the front I sat thinking about her taking in her hair and shoulders how her hair touched her shoulders and I wished I was her hair and could touch her shoulders or maybe her school skirt that I could embrace her or maybe her hidden bra that I could... the music played Reynard drew Miss G sat in her chair at front gazing at the class or sat with eyes closed nodding her head I wished I was with Yehudit some place else instead.
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Jan 13, 2017
Jan 13, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
SOME PLACE ELSE 1962.
Let me sing Amazing Grace as it’s never been sung before. Let me rest upon the top of the mountain and touch the sun. Let me dance as if there’s no tomorrow until the bell tolls. Let me feel the delicious fur of my nonjudgmental pup one last time. Let me eat as many perfect peaches as I can, hand to mouth and repeat. Let me hear Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E until it is in my heart forever. Let me learn to express my love without even a twinge of self-recrimination. Let me breath from deep in my soul the pure and newborn air of freedom. Let me….let me… one last hour, one last minute, one last second.
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Oct 23, 2020
Oct 23, 2020 at 12:42 PM UTC
Before I go
There is a slow deliberation on the ********** before the mirror in your room the slow removal piece by piece until you are down to your underwear and bra. You stand there gazing looking at the mirrored bed behind imagining Benny was there giving you the eye. But he isn't of course just your wanting him there gazing at your strip-show with his hazel eyes. Your clothes lie where they fell. You pretend he is cheering you on commenting on your revealed flesh and shape. Downstairs your mother is preparing dinner the radio pushing out some Mendelssohn. You sigh and pick up the fallen clothes and stack them neat and dress in after school clothes bit by bit knowing Benny isn't there to see. Your mother calls you like a laboured cow and you guess you'll eat the dishes up dinner somehow.
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May 1, 2018
May 1, 2018 at 12:18 PM UTC
Lizbeth's Strip Tease 1961