This he said
As he set his sails
After a life well-lived:
“Friends applaud, the comedy is over.”
Life is indeed a comedy
We stumble on stage with unsure steps
Forgetting lines, forgetting reasons
Yet our friends, the audience of our hearts,
Smile at each misstep
As if every flaw belonged to the script.
They gather in the glow of laughter
Not to judge, but to share the moment
Their eyes remind us softly
That worry has no place here.
Choose your crowd wisely
For quality friends
Are the true measure of a quality life.
Melodic ingenuity of Ludwig van Beethoven
raised music to the realm of art, cadence woven.
A piano virtuoso, he turned into a composer unique,
initiated the romantic era in coexistent classical music.
He infused momentum in symphony,
sonorous in the ninth with harmony.
A few love affairs he had,
but remained bachelor sad,
lived amidst failed romance in agony.
A romantic, he had a strong personality,
struggled heroically with deafness silently.
Despite affliction caused by leaded wine addiction,
composed transcendent music of designed perfection.
Ludwig von Beethoven number nine*
despite deafness musically sublime
poets, the evergreens,
their poems, the word
gospels that didn't make
the big book like
birds on overhead wires
accidentally perched
in the sequence of a
Beethoven symphony
but those words divine,
while I figure out grain
on half lit wooden floors
reduced, now, to poems
in pyjamas, oh my life,
delayed, enforcing other
immortalities
Ludwig van Beethoven raised music to the plane of art
The power of his composition conveyed the cadence of heart
Fused vocal and instrumental melodies in Ninth Symphony unique
Struggled heroically with deafness though life turned silently bleak.
for his affecting music
Beethoven did not hear applause
but he felt enthusiastic clapping hands
PS Beethoven was deaf since childhood
Ludwig Beethoven baptised in Bonn
loved both music&song
Prolific was his second name
deafness never inhibited this game
My friend, why have you spun out of joint?
Or am I now cross-eyed?
Is one of us running out of rhythm?
Or both spinning in circles?
Why is everything I say just a question?
Can I speak or write a statement?
Would you play Beethoven,
or shall I put on Mozart?
Is this not something I ask you?
So why should this be so?
I will change.
Gosh, I've just made a statement, not asked a question!
Was this not a great conversion?
(May 2022)
the onion in father's hands didn't have time to cry,
with his fist punched it on the corner of the table, spread salt and
ate it with sheep's cheese,
(like the builders of the pyramids, my dad was paid in onions)
the onion in my mother's hands was sweet and made many leaves,
spring of spring she shared it throughout the village,
people were wondering: how does not bring tears,
every time I have an onion in my hand I think,
to clean it with my hands,
cut it with a knife, or
punch with a fist,
the onion in my hands
is waiting
The loudest composer, ’tis clear,
was Beethoven - man of the year.
The Germans are proud
of music that’s loud
because Ludwig van couldn’t hear.
an immortal genius
ventured to extremes
to stun&shock
in
precusive fanfars
radiant with humanity
tenderly lyrical
suave&elegant
yet in solemnity
elevates to great heights
heroic triumphant
with
blood&thunder
with
indomitable willpower
a human personality
with
shdow&doubt
a desparte dreamer
romantic
transcending
striving
for virtue
so fragile
immense
crushing aspiring
a genius
par excellence
with
music
as
the
message
dim
dim
is the eye
sweet once
were
the hours
fate
has been
joined
bliss
bliss
farewell
the night
hides love
in a
blanket
of
sounds
evolving
evoking
tranquility
to depart
footsteps
in my mind
endlessly
emotion
memories
that
sway
wait
then
delay
on repeat
phrases
no comfort
from yesterdays
one day
follows
the other
as a
passing
cloud
to
tomorrow
Please dearest wonders of the world.
May my soul repent for my loss.
For it is all my doing.
Declare my blindness in Fur Elise.
Fauna,flora,all alike.
Let them refuse their gain of disbelief.
They must know of the song I sing.
The glory that it must bring.
1st movement,2nd movement.
I will soon slow to a crawl.
Fallen wings shall call me.
Come to me with open arms.
Something I recognize.
An unforgotten love lust.
The lack of distance between us.
It shall never grow!
Moonlight Sonata!
Shine on them,shine on me.
Feel the sympathy at last.
Dying among the symphonies.
Let the notes be left.
The world will find them again.
For they had found them before.
Amen,so be it.
we drove late afternoon
over the dark Rhein,
the sky fake with orange,
to Bonn : to a house with cool, emplty rooms,
white with words, dark with chords,
to an elegant Hammerflügel ;
for my father the end of a journey,
but the start of the sublime
( for A.F. Philibert)
There was poetry in their lovemaking,
the way he brushed her hair aside
as he gazed piercingly into her eyes,
she welcomed his tender caresses
as well as his demanding fervor,
he cherished her sensually inclined
free spirit pleasing his every whim,
the rhythmic concerto between
them whispered Moonlight Sonata
& climaxing crescendos' finale
amid Beethoven's 5th symphony
of harmonious little deaths further
intimate refrains' melodic dalliance
Related Poems