"oscillations" poems
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.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
Your are a flavour of mystic flow and justice
Resounding effortlessly in vapoured divinity
A channel spinning within your furling crux
Cheers to our cups of leisure and pleasure
I turn around and your warmth embraces
I'll wait holding the gaze of your bright eyes
I'll wait touching this revolving total eclipse
I'll wait as I sense our forbidden mind-scapes
I have sensed your whole when we are apart
A near leap to meet,cuddle and feel the vibration
Uncovering the glistening gem that penetrates heat
Fondling the electric ******** oscillations under the bridge
Here is my cup, holding a rapture of your breath
Here is my cup, melodically swirling in fine entertainment
Here is my cup,exhuming and exhaling our magical essences
Our cup it is! Cheers! As we sprout and bloom pleasantly
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 4:59 AM UTC
The wind rises
in the courtyard
baring extraordinary
imaginings
faithful oscillations
of space time
evanescence of
life and death
always mutedly
move side to side
the wind rises
the whole range of experiences
of a flower-like butterfly
venturing through
the damp and dusty
it makes the bronze in the night
cry in its reply
a rustling sound woke me up
its the sycamore castle outside
that carries the burden of dawn
the tree is just like a book opened
birds, insects etc are inserted in the pages
i walk into the bones
to eavesdrop on the breath of this minute
to learn its calmness
and indifference
towards the coming and going
of multifarious clouds.
Mar 15, 2023
Mar 15, 2023 at 11:00 AM UTC
People -
so many bodies…
Some seem to engage
for but a moment, of course,
before bustling past on hot sidewalks,
with varied smidgens of mind and heart;
collections of vibrating chemistry,
moving to specific oscillations.
How to make sense of it all?
We can be drawn to warm embers,
avoid icy slaps on our cheeks reddening.
Grey shapes pass us by, hardly registering a blip -
are they nothing more than the flotsam of flailing limbs
echoing our own caustic needs and wants pending?
Yet we all want much the same things in life:
to be noticed with kindness by the benign,
safe from the razor-blade elements,
find our slot in life that counts,
and leave something good
for posterity, if it comes…
For dots of humanity
of which we are a part,
in some fashion or another,
keep floating giddily past us…
Are they up for what will come
with stoic resistance, or neglect?
Do they expect some dystopia
and the terrors of a dark night?
Ask the fretting little children,
who can’t sleep for their fright!
They too need a river of peace ~
the Promise to be fulfilled
made by One wiser
than all else…
~~
Mar 16, 2023
Mar 16, 2023 at 7:58 PM UTC
What are we, really?
For as long as we have been able,
Humans have looked skyward and wondered.
Wondered about the timbre of our voices
About the pastel shades of our skin.
When we are cut, why do we all bleed the same red?
About our origin.
About our purpose.
About our murky past and our luminous future.
What are we, really?
As a species we are collectively stumped.
We have journeyed far.
From trepanning the ill, ventilating their skulls to drive out malevolent spirits,
To carefully calculating the oscillations of distant stars.
And yet,
Despite our ingenuity, despite our ambition, despite our progress,
The truth still escapes our inquisitive grasp.
What are we, really?
Are we god's chosen flock?
Are we simply another infinitely random arrangement of carbon atoms? Flesh and gristle and calcium deposits?
Are we overgrown simians with overgrown egos and obnoxious sense of importance?
Or are we a simulation? Ones and zeroes on the motherboard of the cosmos?
What are we,
Really?
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 4:43 PM UTC
Ever decreasing circles
Tessaracts
And mine fields
Hindsight blind sided
Ostensibly this funneled
Tunnel vision
OCD in oscillations
The vortices surround me
Gravity
On my event horizon
The memory of sunlight thins
This meridian
Soul and spirit intersect
At the latitude of foolish intentions
Emotional circumspect
The absolution of revolutions
Pull my fatal focus center
Enter in
To end
Where I begin
*aufero vestri cranium ex vestri ****
whispered litany
reverse reverberation
In that space between statis
And 360 degrees
Stretch out my arms
And I am free…..
Ever increasing circles
From the epicenter
To destiny
TL Boehm
092809
*remove your cranium from your ****
Sep 24, 2014
Sep 24, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
The frequent phenomenon of this empty place,
Gathering energy it cannot replace,
Submerged in darkness, foreshadowing night,
Paroxysm shook, stirring up light,
Out from the chaos four beings stood,
Together infused, singular brotherhood,
Light blends them all mistaken into one,
Thirty-five times stronger, than the power of our sun,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath,
Pioneering our concept of constellations,
Bent at the handle, insidious oscillations,
Corruption was constant, like a plagued medallion,
When he collared his confederate, a maniacal stallion,
Couriers of desecration, colonial devastation,
Oxidizing nations, burning depredation,
Lord and auxiliary, imperial arrogation,
And with a single voice, they declared themselves king,
Welcome to the dream; a death omen quartet,
Witness the rider, perceive his regret,
With a single companion, and a crown forged in death,
Perpetually doomed to a violent last breath.
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 7:50 AM UTC
Capacitor plate ల మద్య insulation లా నీ feelings దాచేసావే.
Diode forward bias లా నీ మనసు చప్పట్లు pass చెయ్యవే .
Zener reverse bias లా నా voltage stabilise చేసేయ్యవే .
Transistor regions లాగా ముచ్చు మూడైనా stages లో ఉన్నావే .
Cut చేసే వీలుమ్డే cut-off నుండి బయటకిరావే.
మితిమీరే అవకాశం ఉండే saturation నుండి తప్పుకుపోవే .
Universal Acceptance లా active stage కి చేరిపోవే .
Amplifier లాగా నీ ప్రేమను సైతం double triple అవ్వాలే .
ఎ input లేని స్పందించే oscillator నా heart అది chese beat ఏలే .
Infinite oscillations తో నీవెనకే నేను నాతొ నా ప్రేమ .
నన్ను control చేసే feedback loop ఎ నువ్వు .
నువ్వు చెప్పింది చేసే circuit నేను .
Transistor లా Switch అల్లే మన ఇరువురి ప్రేమని connect చేసేసే .
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:50 AM UTC
There is a Soldier I know
Her short cadence
with military precision
is always careful
At every bridge she
breaks step
to avoid foolish
oscillations a peeking midriff jog
pounding shoes
on asphalt pavement
hard could these send infatuated
hopes to destructive swing
Who knows what chasm
fantasized are crossed
Who knows what war
wages and what broken
battle of bulges lost
Why burn another Leader
ego living in some
Downfall Bunker
There is a Soldier I know
Her short cadence
in boots bare run faster
than legged strut
Every night she comes
through a backroom window
protected by a silver
Spoon at best
and every morning she
survives as golden tongue
poetry written on
our wired cages
There is a Soldier I know
Her name is Eden
and her hands are hot
with Dante's inferno
Her adolescent face is cool
and on each ear
a ring of Blue Herons
Every day her short cadence
brings rouge life
to our clay complexion
and every night
her milky whey
lips wonder lost
in our King Lear
kabuki song
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 12:11 PM UTC
You are the snake charmer
mesmerizing poisonous slithery creatures
spellbinding them with your undulating hips
gyrating *******
nimble graceful hands
lulling lulling
the predator
into a limp drowsy posture
until its rapid oscillations dull
until its spitting hisses silence
and glowing yellow eyes milk over
you drape it over with your red garment
it coils into infinity
as darkness spreads.
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
I've seen more than enough love songs
That say the the same thing in different ways
Too many hearts don't reflect the meaning of their names.
Her name means "promise". All I see is pain.
Rejection
Hate
Distaste
Disdain
Why are sad stories so difficult to tell?
The oceans in my skull have filled enough wells.
I'm thirsty for love, not sirens and liquid salt.
This cistern of sadness will not parch the thoughts that won't depart.
I'm sitting on a sleet covered street bench
And I only wish the city was as dark as the sky,
But oscillations of red and blue clarify
The night and who it belongs to.
Christmas colors aren't these
There's no green,
The same absence as the trees.
Hearts as cold as this arctic breeze.
Feb 17, 2014
Feb 17, 2014 at 1:18 AM UTC
She held my hand,
so that I can turn on
the romantic oscillations;
Amplify them via
kissing her;
Taken aback by
her vigorous desire
I did as directed!
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
When you think you know, that’s you losing it.
When you write this down, that’s you erasing it.
Moments pass empty like the wind.
Oscillations are left.
People fear base oscillation.
They fear the quiet of the world.
If it gets too quiet during the night, we might just slip away.
If you are too loud in the morning, you won’t know what to say.
So the prophet sits alone.
On a mountain top and is shown
A larger picture
Reflecting his own.
Walking towards the mountains are saints
Unified sacrifices are made.
The God’s blood is paid,
As the Devil digs the grave.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 3:57 PM UTC
Everything keeps on flooding into this associative mesh,
It all reflects such involved significance
I ache to grip the essence, but settle for metaphors
pining after describable meaning.
Stretch my fingertips far, and further still
try to cradle the lattice
it escapes me, ever extending
Leaves me in a daze,
wooly and jumbled.
Obscurity is thick and difficult
Her true depth shrouded in a coolness
The perfect touch of rugged to rouse baseline beauty
compelling, titillating
Just like the divine bitter edge of dark chocolate
—how it aggrandizes the taste,
stretches it beyond mere sweetness—
she imbues my life with ***** full-bodied awe.
dark, deep
Terrifying
Fantastic.
A moment- She steals away my peace
comfortless, deserted. Cold and abandoned.
Shriveling at sheer confusion
Cant seem to understand this whole thing I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to but it’s all a bit much the compulsive need to know plus innate knowledge that I can’t
A bit cruel
Another-She invites me into warm, multicolored awareness, acceptance
Free of cosmic heaviness
Forgetting the weight of existence and filled with bliss
I’ve got it I’ve just got to do it Just got to
Live my life
Not try so hard to understand it all.
The oscillations make my head spin.
Mar 7, 2023
Mar 7, 2023 at 12:50 PM UTC
I'm a man who has a lot on his mind
Trying to live simply
Love does not allow such a thing
****** by mans needs to attain, achieve, and assimilate. Love provides the highest goal. A roller coaster of magnificent proportions. A soaring 90 degree drop that shoves g forces into a person. Just as elusive as gravity's hold and an astronauts fire to break free of it to fully explore the universes mysteries. I never swore myself to an easy life. I want a full elaborate being interlaced with another soul. I want to just to set the table with all that composes me and have it laughed upon just to see a smile, a crinkle in soft complexion; a curving imperfection with the oscillations that could reverberate above a symphony because you'd be seated next to me and I would take your hand and feel the basic life giving energy that keeps us alive and I would know we exist for each other and that after the orchestra has struck it's last chord we would leave together for another night and I could listen for another day's sigh of happy existence.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC
Just as waves pass through,
My mind races of you
Third eye open
So my deepest dreams came true
Anew are they now
And still just a few
Things I need to keep
And I find them in my sleep
A dark haze is all I can gaze
When blazed the forest seems to end phase
Shifts from a daze to confusion
Or a craze, what happens when fusion
Of two hearts take place
Now I'm back here in this race
Driving on the Interstate, trying to prove
That this new state we created
Is something not to lose
A bruise or two shall surely
Make waves out of ripples
But ******* happens purely
For reasons, none but learning
I'm earning back the empathy
Feeling the telepathy, heart beats in clarity
The charity you gave me was clearly in the way
But you held true, like the pacific being blue
And you held me like a hugger holding trees
Even three blind mice could see your love for me
And they could judge me for churning our to be
To be we still shall, a gal of name Lovely,
And lovely she remains
Even after all the pain
She refrains from judgement or disdain
And the truth be known still
Our journey up this hill
A mountain with a view
So long as I climb it with you
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC
Their faces blank,
They quietly study her features,
Bathed in the fluorescent glow.
In **** she is copied
With brush stroke and oil on canvas
Meticulous hands emblazon her
Onto the surface of mediocre masterpieces.
And she stands, shivering
Her body slightly tensed
Under the oscillations of the ceiling fan.
Oct 17, 2011
Oct 17, 2011 at 9:23 PM UTC
Our brains are, immense antennas.
They listen to "The Source"
Harmonic oscillations singing.
all the time.
You may think I have gone lunar
but this bio-crystal tuner,
works best when we
invoke our inner
mime.
If we tweak our "thought-in" buffer
down to one breath, we'll discover
a silence that can hear our
planets hum.
The music of the orbs, spheres
is ointment for our sore ears.
A soothing salve to heal us
from "the numb".
From the rapping and the tapping,
from the repetitious yapping
If there is PEACE OF MIND
to find
I'll take some.
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
we'll feel-
as collegiate corners
are filling the pages of
our tragedies.
i attempt to seek
next century's repose:
the motion of a thousand
spinning conjectures.
your restlessness holds
junction and duration,
consciously screaming of our
former years.
i'll seek-
you in oscillations
and what little you
left of memory.
Sep 23, 2018
Sep 23, 2018 at 12:25 AM UTC
bass palpitations and neon fragmentations
briefly deflect the cruelty of
your perceivable
emptiness
a rainbow of sweat, anonymous
stems encompassing sauntering spirits
a fully elevated identity
identifies the rationale
behind the soul's existence.
THERE IT IS,
dangling before doped surveillance;
can't you taste its sweetness?
and
before you grasp it,
the crescent wanes
pacing shuffled steps
tracing fleeted memories.
nights with beautiful intruders
terminated with sonorous ears,
oscillations of the frame,
and you,
crashed
on pillow-top.
how did you got here?
recollections
excruciating
tattoos of a misleading
reality.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 4:09 AM UTC
Pouring out of the face of the air
the unquestionable certainty of sight
Oscillations of pure terror at every street corner
oblivion's door - opening and shut
& underlying all-rightness
The new cycle of the new year - one year off
threatening to impose unknown change
& though some who claim to know themselves
may reject nature & the dynamo of the galactic wheel
all will break before the turning planets
& cast no doubt upon the strength of silent gods
all electricity dead - a silent, dark world
Recalling our bare-bone truths
when we were once all born into darkness
& roasting calf thighs as tribute
to the stars who told our stories
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 5:43 PM UTC
Felis catus is your taxonomic nomenclature,
An endothermic quadruped, carnivorous by nature;
Your visual, olfactory, and auditory senses
Contribute to your hunting skills and natural defenses.
I find myself intrigued by your subvocal oscillations,
A singular development of cat communications
That obviates your basic hedonistic predilection
For a rhythmic stroking of your fur to demonstrate affection.
A tail is quite essential for your acrobatic talents;
You would not be so agile if you lacked its counterbalance.
And when not being utilized to aid in locomotion,
It often serves to illustrate the state of your emotion.
O Spot, the complex levels of behavior you display
Connote a fairly well-developed cognitive array.
And though you are not sentient, Spot, and do not comprehend,
I nonetheless consider you a true and valued friend.
-Data
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 8:02 AM UTC
Un port est un séjour charmant pour une âme fatiguée des luttes de la vie. L'ampleur du ciel, l'architecture mobile des nuages, les colorations changeantes de la mer, le scintillement des phares, sont un prisme merveilleusement propre à amuser les yeux sans jamais les lasser. Les formes élancées des navires, au gréement compliqué, auxquels la houle imprime des oscillations harmonieuses, servent à entretenir dans l'âme le goût du rythme et de la beauté. Et puis, surtout, il y a une sorte de plaisir mystérieux et aristocratique pour celui qui n'a plus ni curiosité ni ambition, à contempler, couché dans le belvédère ou accoudé sur le môle, tous ces mouvements de ceux qui partent et de ceux qui reviennent, de ceux qui ont encore la force de vouloir, le désir de voyager ou de s'enrichir.
715
I.
gravity
helps me realize
where exactly
you are.
and newton,
well newton
for all his
hang ups on
the temptations of
eve,
i guess got
it right
first:
what separates me
and you
and the rest of the world
is not
hope or magic
but rather
the pendulum swings of
chance
(arbitrary force)
the oscillations maybe
of a rickety train platform
on which our
footprints
converge, diverge,
and resonate
like naturalized frequencies.
II.
frankly,
i
don't want to talk
about the physics of it all.
i just want to sit
alone,
on the steps of this train
station,
and gently soak in the
clickety clacks
of these intersecting lines.
i
just want to
watch
as their doors open
and close,
and feel the rhythms
of their machinated dance,
and
sort the footsteps
that sift out
according to shape, color,
distance.
III.
as we speak,
i have already begun
to count
how many
stops
still separate
you.
and i.
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
How many bridges have we burned
How many lessons never learnt
Try and do but then we don't
Say we will but know we won't
How many flames have we shot
How many mysteries never caught
Reveal but then very well refuse
Admit but still confuse
How much more can we take
How many do we blame for our own mistakes
We know what we need to intercede
But how far do we take that belief?
How many desires we breed
How many sins we commit
Though we know for what we aspire
Still we keep on fits with betrayed trials
How many years have flown by
How many tears have we each cried
Far too many I believe to count
From lips that move without a sound
How many theories never understood
How much head we put
How much we neglect
The oscillations of solace..
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 9:42 AM UTC