"toccata" poems
The equilibrium of the ecosystem is challenged by the rites of the 11th Century Norsemen. Smell the pine in the forests of North America where the dream catcher swings in the branches of the misty Boreal forest.
We must never forget in our futile plight for supremacy, that the roots of trees are deeply connected to the annals of history where contemporary grandiosity is a mere mirage of what we call sophistication.
Toccata and Fugue in D Minor is where Johann Sebastian Bach communicated his message as clear as the cries of those who were slaughtered in the Highland Clearances. Parallel octaves of our Viking ancestry are firmly established and will never be altered despite the quests of the New World Order.
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
*My darling little one I am tasked.
Tasked with the idea of imparting what I know.
It might not all help,
But it is what I wish I knew.
If you don’ t already;
Pretend you like yourself,
Because if people think you are untouchable
They won’t attempt to approach you and tell you the negative things that you already tell yourself.
Take the time to listen to classical music,
You will like Toccata and Fuge in Dmin,
Trust me.
Don’t regret anything;
You are who you are because of what you have done,
Even if you don’t like the person you are now,
Use the present as a catalyst to become who you picture yourself being.
Fall in love with weird people.
They are a different type of person
And you learn much about how the mind works from them.
Pick up the ukulele.
It is bright and happy.
But only do this after your long stint as a metalhead.
People can say what they want,
But you have to be talented for metal
And if anyone knows about community and looking out for their own it is metalheads.
It is okay to be unhappy-
Even now I don't have the hang of this one.
But maybe someday
Maybe someday.
My tiny shining star,
The world will be cruel to you,
But it will be kind if you let it.
Take in the little things that give you joy.
But your Mum and I cannot wait,
To see the joys you experience
And the mistakes you make,
Because I will be waiting with tea and gumboots
And your Mum will be waiting with blanket forts and chocolate
And probably a better solution.
You will be an unstoppable force in this world
And I couldn't be more excited to meet you*
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 6:27 AM UTC
Darkness of light the candle that darkness shines its bane to tame the light
Light of darkness the candle that light shines its bane to tame the night
Ecstatic cosmic banes,of light and darkness games
darkness divine right of light in this poetic phylosophy to ignorance blight
Toccata into eternity,divinity for light and darkness unity
blood of god i drink,as on light and darkness i feed in this cosmic creed
Ecstasia of conflict ironic divination damnation by the soul from ignorance salvation.Decision for knowledge by perfection precision.direction of soul awakenening ressurection provision.
light and darkness is my name,eating my soul to make me tame.
Of universe bane through an eternity gain
tool of ecstasy,rule of divinity light and darkness triumph
> > 2021 < < destiny unfolds and i appear and awake(AlucarD)
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 7:01 PM UTC
T.S. Eliot might say “Dare disturb the universe.”
I say “What the **** **** **** up.”
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 3:32 PM UTC
The story is that Rachmaninov was depressed for three years from 1898 to 1901. Eventually he sought the help of Dr. Nikoli Dahl who saw Rachmaninov daily using hypnotherapy and psychotherapy. Rachmaninov responded favorably to these treatments. In 1902 he composed his Piano Concerto No, 2. There are, of course, many great and beautiful musical compositions, but Rachmaninov's Piano Concerto No. 2, along with Beethoven's 1st, 3rd, 5th, 7th, and 9th symphonies, together with Bach's Brandenburg Concertos and his Toccata and Fugue in G Minor stand at the pinnacle of the world's pyramid of great music. I have written poems since my early 20s. A poem is not a symphony, but it is a work of art. Do I ever feel the way Rachmaninov felt when he heard the deafening applause after No. 2 was performed for the first time? Sometimes.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Aug 1, 2020
Aug 1, 2020 at 4:31 AM UTC
You see, there are veiny hands with milky
mangled bones, whose fists clench pulp insides.
The fiery burn of bile, and extraction of embedded
glass in fleshy feet. Rope-burn, gas pain, trickled red.
For me, there lies a book with torn out, scattered
pages. A teddy bear wears empty eyes
as stuffing billows out like smoke. Clamored
pots and pans in empty, hollow rooms
whose echoes hum Toccata & Fugue
in broken, choppy ***** rounds.
A ratty, pin sliced rag doll sits as sand
winds whip across deserted shores.
Chords in D minor can't quite capture
the element of loss as uniquely or eerily
as the silence I now reach out and grasp
in the hollow space your breath once filled.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
Toccata and toast
Tuesdays at the Bach café
Tonal illusion
A cheese omelet in two sharps
Black coffee in recital
© Lewis Bosworth, 3-2017
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 2:57 PM UTC