"rondo" poems
Movement no.1
Andante con moto
Farewell.
I am leaving you
with the sweetness
and the sadness
of every creature on this earth
draped over my shoulders
as a shroud
We rest now
before the final struggle
looking down upon our lives
from a precipice
The wind calls up
a faint sound
a song
of healing
as resignation
So bring forth the dirge
let dogs and oboes
cue the horns
as we embark
upon a tender struggle
We are whipped back
and forth
between grief and glory
in this life
an indifferent life
lush with raw power
But thankfully
at the end of every day
there is sleep.
Movement no. 2
Im tempo eines gemächlichen Ländlers. Etwas täppisch und sehr derb.
Dance returns
and goes mad
Who could lift a leg
that high?
Not I.
The music careens
off the walls
in a dissonant minuet
of the hours
The clenched teeth
of each and every minute
grind here
as if time itself
took heel
and made a sparkling trace
across the pines
of this exalted floor of dance.
Movement no. 3
Rondo Burleske: allegro assai. Sehr trotzig.
A music major's delight.
Fugues against fugues.
Dense contrapuntal figures
and sarcastic counterpoint
shouting out
from the back of the class.
And then
just love
confused perhaps
but real love indeed.
Movement no. 4
Sehr langsam und noch zurüclhaltend
The violin
noblest of instruments
takes its place
In bitter sorrow
life soon lost
the fruit of the tree
is extinguished
the promise of green days
burned by drought
All is withheld.
There is peace at the end
but no joy
the abyss is only silence
and a taut string
connecting us
to eternity.
Jul 14, 2016
Jul 14, 2016 at 10:47 PM UTC
This simple dance
revolves around itself
repeating intricate figures
until its inevitable end.
And then?
A riddle wrapped
in the loose skin of the night
beckons to us all
the certainty of death
leaves us wondering
while stumbling along this frosted
winter shore.
A thousand times
a thousand ships
have sailed daily
and sent nary a missive home.
The signal fires are burning
on forested headlands
here along this rugged coast.
Dark and solemn capes
gather the pelting rain
into their skirts.
The signaling smoke
from fir-fed fires
wraps itself in salt spray
serves as a beacon for the lost
a message to the departed.
Yet not a word
not a message in a bottle
from those who have set forth.
180 degrees of the compass
and not a sail.
The sea splendid and empty.
If no news is good news,
then bliss is our birthright.
If no news is something else
again,
then simple silence
will be our wage.
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
It is a symphony of distortion
That unfolds before my weary eyes
A complicated but intricate body of work
I fight daily not to reprise
The opening sonata is slow, yet eerily intriguing
Simply starting with a beating heart
Never knowing the tempo each day will bring
Due to inconsistent sight reading from the various nourishing parts
Switching to adagio brings a fluidity of movement
Though the pace is still quite slow
An integration of crux and marrow can be painfully tedious
Thus suspending vital balances and flow
A minuet seeks to pull these things together
The lively dance of mind, body, and soul
While entertaining and fun, it can bring about an urge for perfection
Inciting an overwhelming loss of control
Finally, a sonata-rondo gradually calms the madness within this body of work
Accenting an inotation that is both a bright and hopeful sound
Yet, it still holds tempo, not willing to relinquish
The rigid temperament previously found
Sep 11, 2018
Sep 11, 2018 at 8:37 PM UTC
Breathless little pod, enclose me with your
Wooden floors. Let the rain outside play as
Pianoforte as it can. Enough
Thought to sink a ship and all I can say
Is “The horses. Oh my God, the horses.”
What about the horses? In a tasteless,
Odorless, frictionless universe sleeps
The hammer of the clouds who eats our hours
And flips to more interesting channels.
Take a minute for yourself, this is just
An experiment, and run up those stairs.
Be sure to stop when you hear the lightning
Then nip back down like thunder so you can
Tell me the result. Breathe in, count to ten.
Breathe out, breathe in and try to remember
The middle of “Rondo Alla Turca.”
Take your time, it won’t be nice outside for
A while. Enjoy the breathless little room.
Mar 16, 2010
Mar 16, 2010 at 9:33 AM UTC
Something inside of me broke
I didn't feel the snap
Until the reaction spread
Like a cold pack
Hit against red brick
I lost myself
Inhaling and exhaling
Rapidly increasing
Accelerating
I couldn't stop
Sobbing
Trying to recapture
Composure
Clawing at the wall
Doubled over
Wide eyed
How long it had been
Sitting there alone
Terrified that you heard me
From the other end of the phone
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
The situation I wish I could revise
I feel bad for the pain I've caused u two guys
"My life is worse"
But you don't know that my life feels like a curse
You definitely trust me
I could hardly agree
I have cheated and lied
Your revenge was that I cried and cried
People say I'm so pretty
I don't agree so they give me pity
Why try to mend our relations
If you still have the same temptations
I often get jealous of this rondo girl
She makes me so mad I wanna hurl
To you guys I'm only a number
You only care if you lie with me where I get slumber
Your friends humor is quite funny
They like to say I'm pretty "yummy"
For they shout "nice jugs"
"Hey fat *** nice but"
Your love is my drug
But your attention is my ****
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 1:21 AM UTC
Let us dance,
Let us sing,
Let us be merry and jovial
See! The lark flies!
Red and gold
Aflutter in the breeze!
The strings resonate
The drums beat in time
As horns and flute
Play
There is much to
Celebrate this
Auspicious day
Auspicious day?
No such thing!
Each day is much
Like the other
And tomorrow
So sadness, evil,
Anxiety,
Away with thee!
We will sing
Of what was,
What is,
What will be
The past shall not
return
The present ever
a walking pace
The future
Unforeseen
So will be our days
Left to fate
Such are the
Years short
So what use are
These of gloom and doom?
Stay with me,
Let us be with
Music til the end
But may our music
Never end.
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 10:56 PM UTC
be my soul friend
my anam cara
play my water harp
my water heart
make music of me
sing me back to
the way I was
the way I can be
the way I am with you
friend, be my soul
my anam cara
make of me a cantata
a rondo
a dance flamenco
flame me back to
the way I was
the way I can be
the way I am with you
soul, befriend me
be my anam cara
make of me a garden
a stroll through Love
give me back to
the way I was
the way I can be
the way I am
c. 2017 Roberta Compton Rainwater
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 9:12 AM UTC
Dos carreteros en sus lentos carros,
En alta noche, solitarios velan;
y al son de cascabeles y guijarros,
En canto alterno su dolor consuelan.
Baja la luna y tiñe de amarillo
Los campos y el azul del hondo espacio;
y en una casa de cristal, el brillo
lejos se ve de un fúlgido topacio.
Baja la luna, y duerme el amor mío,
y velo y rondo el sueño de mi amada;
y de cansancio trémulo y de frío
Beso en vano el umbral de su morada.
Un pie de rosa floreció en su huerto
En risueña mañana del estío.
Tal vez conmigo soñará, cubierto
De gotas temblorosas de rocío.
En vano rondo, y mi esperanza es vana,
Que mía no será su padre jura.
y alta la frente miro a su ventana,
Con el cuchillo pronto en la cintura.
Yo quiero trasplantar el pie de rosa
y que florezca en medio de mi estancia,
y que corra mi vida silenciosa
A solas aspirando su fragancia.
Filo tiene el cuchillo y grita: «¡Mata!»
y sonríe al amago de la muerte.
En vano velo el sueño de la ingrata
Que con otro tal vez burla mi suerte.
Mas, ¿qué miro? ¿No ves? Baja del cielo
una nube de lirios luminosa
que envuelven a una rosa en blanco velo;
y el corazón me dice: «¡Esa es tu esposa!»
Más que la vida en la prisión, sonroja
La vida entre la lluvia y el sereno.
Un blanco seno luce cinta roja...
Sangre habrá de correr de un blanco seno.
Esposa, voy a ti; cansado llego...
¡Que mi ensueño en tus ojos se extasíe!
Yate miro rendida ante mi ruego:
Abre tus brazos y a mi amor sonríe.
Di: ¿cuántas veces a traición me heriste?
¿Cuántas veces burlaste mi esperanza?
Ya en la existencia tu misión cumpliste...
La sangre corre... ¡Mira! ¡Es mi venganza!
«¡Durmamos!... Olvidemos las canciones,
Cuchillo, sangre, rosas, y falsía...
Durmamos olvidados de traiciones
Hasta que venga y nos despierte el día».
Callaron, y los carros prosiguieron,
y hasta que el cielo se tiñó en fulgores
Sueño profundo, sin soñar, durmieron...
Cantaron por cantar, cual ruiseñores.
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