"semitone" poems
The day is gone, and all its sweets are gone!
Sweet voice, sweet lips, soft hand, and softer breast,
Warm breath, light whisper, tender semitone,
Bright eyes, accomplished shape, and lang'rous waist!
Faded the flower and all its budded charms,
Faded the sight of beauty from my eyes,
Faded the shape of beauty from my arms,
Faded the voice, warmth, whiteness, paradise—
Vanished unseasonably at shut of eve,
When the dusk holiday—or holinight
Of fragrant-curtained love begins to weave
The woof of darkness thick, for hid delight;
But, as I've read love's missal through today,
He'll let me sleep, seeing I fast and pray.
1.8k
New musical sketch/work in progress thing!!
If anyone is so inclined, check out my newest musical sketch for a track called "Within":
https://soundcloud.com/apexparadigm/within-theme-1
It's an instrumental track with 3 guitars, 1 piano and drums.
Guitar is me recorded by me, effects are done with Guitar Rig, from Native Instruments
piano and drums written by me and synthesized with Kontact, also from Native Instruments.
-
I've been messing with playing in the 5th position in drop tunings,
and thus was the riff born,
then I adapted it for several things and wrote in some drums in a sort-of hastily fashion.
(that's why I call it a sketch)
If anyone wants specifics:
it's in F# harmonic minor at about 93bpm.
with the guitar tuned to Drop C# (Drop D but down half a step: C#, G#, C#, F#, A#, D#)
Harmonic Minor means that you take the minor 7th scale step, in this case E,
and make that sonuvabitch a major 7th instead of a minor 7th by raising it one semitone, or step.
The result is a step and a half gap between the minor Sixth and the major Seventh,
and the major Seventh makes the dominant chord, C#, into a major chord rather than a minor chord, increasing it's functional harmonic resolution potential, and thus "Harmonic" minor.
Harmonic minor has some interesting flavor; it's rather exotic for how similar it is to the natural minor scale, aka. Aeolian mode.
I think it's rather ******* sweet, personally.
Spanish classical music plays on this harmonic structure thoroughly, as do many other things.
Anyway, there you have it.
Feedback is appreciated,
if you listen, I shall be honored to hear what you honestly think.
It may not be your style of music, but I implore you to think about listening.
As always,
thank you for your time.
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
Since you have already plucked my heart strings,
let us make music together.
Whisper to me at night,
in syllable serenades that I
will only half remember on waking.
Kiss me, kiss me, kiss me,
until my tongue can stand it no more
and I must speak in symphonies.
Touch me delicately,
tickle my ribs until they become piano keys,
and play them until they cry out
chords that spell your name.
Let your laughter be trills in our cadenzas.
Let the pop of your knee drive a march to my bed.
Let me run my fingers up your spine,
jumping vertebrae like octaves,
from your tip to your toes.
Let my every shuddered breath be but syncopation
to the bass drum of your heart.
Be quiet with me,
let us play in piano,
soft as silence or sleep.
Stay there, linger for as long as the fermata holds.
And then, let us raise our voices together,
glorious crescendos upon crescendos,
until at last we can build no longer, and
return together to the tonic.
Run your hands across my hips,
play my longing in liquid legato strokes,
effortless in your endeavors.
Touch me again.
Let our gasps play counterpoint
to the melodies of our moans.
Take what you will of me,
fill me with song,
write sheet music in my lungs,
so that every breath I draw
sings on its way out.
Purse your lips and kiss me like embouchure.
Give me every quaver, every semitone, every holy harmony.
Leave me buzzing vibrato,
kiss me con brio.
Let me caress your delicate curves,
as though you were a violin made flesh.
If my temperament be just, then play on.
And let us be of one form, sonata-allegro,
until we must be jazz.
And then we shall burn the world with passion,
with chords no one knows but us.
So, for the sake of recapitulation,
I must ask again:
let us make music together.
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:06 PM UTC
We do not know each other.
The fog is carving the ghostly
silhouettes of houses, people
and hopes.
And like a sound the hand is –
a semitone of the scream
of seagulls “Arriva … Arriva”
Nothing is coming.
Nothing has come.
I am trying to breathe –
in a time beyond.
In the gardens of the cascades
before the dawn and after the rain.
We do not know each other.
You’ve melted in the sun,
a sun in the fog
and you’ve never been here.
The paper remembers some passed
sounds come from the outer
world – Arriva.
In our eyes we are burning.
Jun 9, 2011
Jun 9, 2011 at 5:22 AM UTC
The blueish painted butterflies
Renewed—but two—as soot cocoons.
Their tapping hues were kindly passed
To swingers (tutti) both attuned.
Too true, as dozenth roots of two
ingrained in Sound; no one immune
from the ever-known, ever-asked
Desire–Envy in the noon.
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 11:39 AM UTC
Rapt by prognosis, sterile elocution
Acute halitosis, banal delusion
Digital notice of distant retribution
Thrombosis will move you before revolution
Brash adolescent right-side part,
Strand obsolescence, abstract art
Pinstripe filaments, two turned backs
Bowed in benevolence, borrowing slack
Hieroglyphic ruminations,
Plastered protestations.
Muscle memory incantations,
Aquifuge of patience.
Future shock, feminists ride-centaurs
Skin-tan hedonists reside-indoors
Tin-can telephone spinal chord,
Sings-an injured semitone final word
40 years since you were a punk
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 6:01 AM UTC
We may share a halo in the dark
With you- moment to minute
Thirty-three percent of this decision is up to thee.
Thirty-three for the one they've been calling a He.
Thirty-three reserved to the necessary joined loyalty
to call "this", "we"
And one to old King Zeus, high
Eyes piercing, black as the dead of night
On the mountain top upon which the Great He resides.
Drinking from elysium fountains while
Most others feel a drought burn
in their throats,
They all hold the sorry and sordid note
of a particularly self-pitying semitone.
Vibrating desert air, the harmonic below
While the miser, glutton, clutchingly laughs
"Oh dear boy! What a wondrous show!"
And chucks copper colored coins in our general direction
Considering yourself lucky if "Your Man"
Wins an election.
I demand insurrection.
Don't let them leave you scared, second-guessing
Where the rest of the so-bless-ed water went.
Or why we hadn't started cleaning the ocean
with a garbage net.
Ten ****** Seconds earlier, left with
What life will swiftly be, left behind.
Some will be left, just to rhyme.
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 7:12 PM UTC
I keep myself suspended in thin air
Through my weak arms,
Pulling the rope in a pulley tied to my hips,
Trembling muscles, fearing eyes, missing voice,
I see the ground getting farther
As my hands force me up.
I'll hit the soil, but when?
I suspend myself in a road
Between two cities I recognize,
But stuck in a middle town,
Unknown, bizarre, half dead,
Waiting a never coming repair,
A volatile gasoline to move me,
The guidance to be back on track,
But I get used to the town,
People suddenly are acquainted,
Unstrange, polite, mannerly.
I'm suspended between those cities
By a thin web of limits,
My lack of imagination,
My despise for shortcuts,
My eyes closed to any opportunity
(Received as an horrendous spell).
I'm in betweens,
The half way,
The dissonance of the division of a semitone,
The missing particle of quarks,
The dark half of a lightbeam.
I'm suspended, panoramic.
I'm not myself anymore,
I'm not myself yet.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 12:10 AM UTC
I thought everyone loves music,
So, I arrange my name in a perfectly harmonized chord.
But it occurs to me that you don’t like music at all.
So, my name dissolved in the whisperings.
It appears that you like architecture,
So, I brought the bricks for you to build a bridge at leisure.
But the bridge was not built on the foundation of mutualism,
So, I stood at my side dwelling in escapism.
One day the bridge blew up and I ran towards you at the speed of light.
Only to realize that I succumbed to despair,
Because all you did was waving goodbye,
As if this was a card game for a solitaire.
I’ve always wondered how distance grows,
Maybe from the constant construction of a burrow.
Sometimes, the thought of you sleeps so well there
Yet sometimes it rises and escapes and I feel so close to you.
Like piano tiles that almost touch, yet always a semitone apart.
Like a flower that aches for the bee, yet from her it flees.
It reminds me of how you’ve always hated growing flowers,
Only to witness how they wilt and die.
So at last you never gave us a try,
Lest the capacity of our heart may flop like the leaves.
To avoid a series of endings, you’d rather
Keep away from all beginnings.
Sometimes, the thought of you is like the sun to me,
Yet sometimes it freezes and you feel like a glacier from afar.
I thought the sweetest radiation could melt you.
Only to realize the wind would never make our currents converge.
Perhaps I should just put this in simpler words.
I have glamorized every centimeter between you and me,
Not realizing how many marathons I’ve scampered
In attempt to call a stranger my lover.
Sep 18, 2019
Sep 18, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC