"vivace" poems
Symphony No.9 in d – minor, opus 125
Allegro ma non troppo
The silence gives way gently
to quiet tremolos rustling
beneath the beckoning
call of distant horns.
A melodic cell, nascent in violins,
spirals down to the somber depths
of cello and contrabass.
A sudden cataclysm
shakes the hall like thunder
heralding our universal birth.
Gales of sonic force
splashed like turbulent waves
against the rocky shores.
Drifting sans glass or sextant
on a sea of expanding mystery,
we gaze to the heavens
in hopes for a glimpse
of our father’s aetherial dwelling.
Molto vivace
With hands intertwined,
we dance in a ring
to the capricious airs
of the laughing gods
with Zeus himself on timpani.
So pass the wine and kiss your neighbor
and fill your glass to the brim!
For today is yesterday’s morrow
and tomorrow’s history.
Adagio molto e cantabile
There is no greater and more healing light
than the candles that shine
in the eyes of a friend
or loving spouse -
tenderly lighting our paths
through the storms and fogs
that cloud our lives.
Peace abides in a friend's embrace.
An die Freude
Against raging storms of
strife and sorrow.
we hear a healing voice
A calm cello hymn -
that migrates up to higher cords
of violas and violins -
breaking into joyous song
sung by trumpets, winds and drums.
Casting all shrillness of discord aside,
a baritone lines out Schiller’s ode -
and sings of Elysium’s daughter.
Quartet and chorus enter in
proclaiming hope for the human family,
A tenor raises a stein to valor
in the company of his friends.
The quiet pulsing of horns and winds
ushers in torrents of ecstasy.
Arms clasped in communal embrace,
we gaze to heaven on bended knees
then rise with a majestic fugue
that illuminates our souls
like a blazing Alpine dawn.
In a cyclone of passion,
Schiller's words and Beethoven's notes
entreat us to restore
what custom has rent apart
that each of us may live our lives
as brothers in heavenly sanctuary.
May 25, 2007
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 1:33 PM UTC
I still hear your euphoric melodies,
The way your eyes would sing.
Vivace, you set the tempo;
The master of playing my heart strings.
Jan 28, 2021
Jan 28, 2021 at 6:14 AM UTC
Phlox Linum,
Phlox Linum,
som satin south alyssum,
vivace kiss
weave violin wind ******
caress calendula
bloom bow bagatelle
bloom allegro
linen Primrose!
Phlox Linum,
Phlox Linum,
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
Flowing blue and
Majestic purple flecked with a
Staccato of yellow, marked by the
Adagio of green and
Accented silver
Caesura.
Dolce is the rosa and lapis that
Crescendo into
Fortissimo red and a
Vivace of cerulean --
Sforzando of orange!
Decrescendo into emerald, a
Morendo into the dark
Grazioso, where rests a
Fermata of rainbow.
At least this is what I see
On the black and white
Sheet of paper.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 8:35 AM UTC
Je ne veux plus aimer que ma mère Marie.
Tous les autres amours sont de commandement.
Nécessaires qu'ils sont, ma mère seulement
Pourra les allumer aux coeurs qui l'ont chérie.
C'est pour Elle qu'il faut chérir mes ennemis,
C'est par Elle que j'ai voué ce sacrifice,
Et la douceur de coeur et le zèle au service,
Comme je la priais, Elle les a permis ...
C'est par Elle que j'ai voulu de ces chagrins,
C'est pour Elle que j'ai mon coeur dans les Cinq Plaies,
Et tous ces bons efforts vers les croix et les claies,
Comme je l'invoquais, Elle en ceignit mes reins.
Je ne veux plus penser qu'à ma mère Marie,
Siège, de la Sagesse et source des pardons,
Mère de France aussi, de qui nous attendons
Inébranlablement l'honneur de la patrie.
Marie Immaculée, amour essentiel,
Logique de la foi cordiale et vivace,
En vous aimant qu'est-il de bon que je ne fasse,
En vous aimant du seul amour, Porte du ciel ?
1.1k
Empty bottles
late night
a long look
at stars bright
hail a cab
hold tight
fast steps
hold hands
warm heat
the old dance
lick my lips
electric trance
I want you to undress me
As you would a flower
Crush my lips
breathe that heavy perfume
fire in the belly
hands like an army
conquer and unconquered
pounce to the beat
of this restless drum
engulf me, aflame
set this room on fire
maddening vivace
of red wine, blood
breath after breath
wave upon crash upon wave upon
color the night sky
one moment one infinity
your skin like magic
I fight
and claw
against inevitability
and time
prolong this
deliciousness
one two three hundred
moments of clarity
in an endless circle
I cry out
with stars in my eyes
And soft
I tremble
I sigh
A release
and the world stops
for just a moment
and it is enough
don't say a word
just lie here
with me
Jul 30, 2013
Jul 30, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Vorticosi anelli imperlati di caducità. Volto scuro, nell'ombra del sole. Vivace tristezza volteggiante sulla testa. Scintilla di fuoco di una sigaretta sprecata. Respiro forte di polmoni, a riempire il vuoto che c'è nell'anima
con l'etereo.
Catrame nero e traditore, colma le mie mancanze e paziente ascolta i miei lamenti.
Impassibile e maligno.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 4:18 PM UTC
IV
Pizzicato pianissimo
its sound gestured into resonance
a slight plosive of winds sustained
Arco – a lament in falling thirds
whispering towards an upward leap and a hold
crescendo decrescendo
Imagine his imagining in nature’s realm
(that patient catalyst for the solitary maker’s mind)
now guarding here its assembly in a sounding out
Adagio – in a three-fold telling
A measured preliminary to the music’s soon-to-dance theme
before rising scales and emphatic chords – Allegro Vivace
V
Words on the rise
bricks on the going
then in the hall on the wall
A poem you simply have to read so
crouch close to the Suffolk brick
don’t mind those descending shoes
The verse is laced with words of sound
breaker march cry rumble clap
cueing memory into remembrance
And why why here
where formal musicking lives and rules
are we noised down steps by a boiling kettle?
VI
As the water holds its breath
so a dense cloudscape
forms and floats
Inverted
mirrored
wholly still
it replaces the water
with horizonless sky
and extended reflections of grass
But as water exhales
clouds coalesce
a right perspective restores
Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
it starts as
a single
vibration
concert pitch
then
a semibreve.
crotchets
and quavers
the crescendo
builds
notes
scattered.
the bow
lurches;
allegro
e vivace
a melody
is heard.
sweet dulcet
tones
fill the air –
wafting,
singing,
passing us by.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 1:35 PM UTC
You play a perfect harmony to the music of my soul
In 4/4 time the last measure is our goal
You conduct me along with the swift movements of your bow
Sweat collects on your prominent brow as you hit the note a little too low
Andante to vivace my heart rushes to tempo
We hold our fermata embracing the moment, slow
The notes sit on the page while my thoughts dance with the rhythm
They leap and they frolic to the sounds of the broken hymn
A little sharp, maybe flat
Our pulses quicken assai, as though Haydn intended that
Like the Baroque Era wrote for us and our meetings in private
Our handshakes that last long and our glances that are silent
But it won’t last and we will face the caesura of our love
It transpires as we ignore the baton waving above
Our duet will end as it started, quickly, like the flight of a dove
Le Carnaval Des Animaux replicates my scrambled mind
No matter how hard I search, the answers I cannot find
In hectic chaos I’m blind to the clearest option staring straight at me
A simple kiss will suffice in helping me see
For to be the maestro I must know every part
Feel each chord progression and triad deep down in my heart
A kiss will answer if these feelings are true
Or if because of my dreams I have sudden interest in you
Whether the moment is a roar of fortissimo glory
Or it is a disappointing sforzando into the diminuendo of our story
Do you feel a crescendo when our eyes meet for a second?
Like we’re calling each other closer and with each blink we’ve beckoned
One another to draw in the coda finale
Together we may join and our notes, they will rally
By the last bar they’re in unison and our cadence is clear
The next movement will begin, there is nothing to fear
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
A swirling of sounds, color, movement, page marked vivace: meaning lively, vivid
Our eyes meet and the music starts; from the first beat I realize
You don't need theory to know what keys pluck at my heartstrings
Simpler than intervals and your smile, a crescendo into the forte of your embrace
The curl of your lips as your laughter resonates a harmony with my own we breathe
and even the silence is as beautiful as the noise
I am so thankful for those repeats, a skip up the step to your front door and the creak as it swings open and I spin into your arms
a different ending to each beginning, always going back to the same butterfly melody flitting wings parading color and light around the room as we sit,
pinkies entwined like vines on a garden wall, and we are both blooming in the golden summer sun, hearts pounding blood rushing, lush and alive
Your smile, your words, our hands together:
A world of colors and sounds all our own
the tonic note of my favorite tune and the pick up to a whole new melody
Thank you.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:39 PM UTC
Someone once told me that I am a slow song starting to accelerate.
At Larghissio, I have a calm demeanor.
Not the calm of a warm sunny day.
But a somber calm where I slowly slit a person's throat whilst listening to classical music.
Grave is where things gets mixed with feelings but where I refused to acknowledge it.
The trend today is dead inside.
But hey, the shade my mother threw at me about my grades during dinner is at the back of my head.
Largo is a little dangerous.
My father is trying to communicate to the four-year-old little girl that was swallowed down along with his drugs.
I am no longer dead inside when I acknowledge that it's wrong.
Adagietto is a fancy word.
So is dementia.
Now, it's harder to stand in front of the grandfather who can't remember me.
Hurt is an emotion.
Andante means I am hurt.
With hurt, I think one loses rationale.
Moderato is for moderate.
But, at moderato, hurt has led me to my anxiety cabin.
Hereon, the walls I have created around me becomes a physical embodiment when all I do is stay in my room.
I want to slow down the pace.
But now, I am starting to hear more than one song.
Some of it, I am singing on my own.
All of it, at Allegro.
My blanket was my hero at Allegro.
I named it 'Depression' and I wore it all the time to cover my ears.
As for rationale, there being none, I found myself and all my songs at Vivace.
The most vivid was my mothers'.
She'd often peek through my walls.
Sing a heavy metal song about my disobedience of wearing depression.
When she got tired, she'd stop singing.
Now, I am left with my songs at Allegro and the distant voice of my grandfather who sings for himself at Larghissio.
The more I try to grasp the lullaby of my grandfather, the faster my songs rise to Vivace.
I am strong but not strong enough to sing multiple songs at Vivace.
Respectively, often these days, I fear that all of my songs would abruptly stop at Presto.
But, on most days, I think about falling back to the next song on your playlist, and it doesn't matter at what tempo.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 5:25 AM UTC
Sonnet.
Quand on a tant aimé, c'est un rude réveil !
Tu t'es cru dans un nid semblable aux nids des haies,
Caché, sûr et profond. Vain songe ! Tu t'effraies
D'avoir osé dormir ce dangereux sommeil.
La foi, bonne ou mauvaise, a donc un front pareil !
Tu ne veux même plus croire les larmes vraies ;
Et si l'amitié cherche à te panser tes plaies,
Ton désespoir viril arrache l'appareil.
Tu goûtes l'âcreté de l'insulte récente :
Gonflé de sa douleur en niant qu'il la sente,
Ton grand cœur se console à la bien soutenir.
Mais, si tu veux garder vivace ta rancune,
Marche au soleil, et fuis les pâles clairs de lune,
Et crains plus que la mort ton plus doux souvenir.
335
Two frail circular spheres
With the membrane of a bubble
Hazily drifting above something somewhere
Life on the left
After life on the right
One is full
And the other empty
At the apogee
Of death
Or birth
Or rebirth
And redeath
In order to cease
In order
To stop
You need to be full, sheer and vacant
At the very end
You are condescend
Tangled and about to explode
You cannot contain anything anymore
You are pure yet full of rotten apples
You stink like sweetened milk and pepper
You go up up up
And down down down
Low
And then you are desolated
Full of emptiness
Inscrutable
Full of cavities to be fulfilled
Delusional
You loose all senses
And for a brief but vivace moment
Half of a glimpse
Something opens
And the bubble pees all of its essence
Something sweet
Musky oil
Infiltrating the fine globe
And you are half full
You decide to press the big bright red button
Both bubbles
Strangled
Collide
Eclipse
Open
Fade
Fuse
New
Free
Feral
And then
You simply
Are crushed in between
Two light, half-transparent things
Compressed
And you are a living
Dead
Alive half of the time
You cannot be more dead than you already are
Or more alive than alive
You have brutally cut the connection
The never ending 8
And you a drifting
Away
Far far far away
Into oblivion
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 12:11 AM UTC