Krugiodendron ferreum or Black Ironwood
Ostrya virginiana or American Hophornbeam
Carpinus caroliniana or American Hornbeam
--------------------------------------------------Black ironwood (like African Blackwood) is not a good choice for a modern bassoon body. While its extreme density makes it ideal for oboes and clarinets, it is far too heavy and reflective acoustically for a bassoon. -------------Ironwood is best suited for acoustic and electric guitars, specifically for dense, high-wear components like fretboards, bridges, and tuning pegs-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Acer saccharum or Sugar Maple------Acer nigrum or black Maple----------Acer rubrum or red maple-----Acer heldreichii or Bosnain Mountain Maple-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Keep my Reed Moist............................................................................!
The voice of your gaze is both unfamiliar and familiar, telling stories. How can I tell you, Queen, the mischief that troubles you increases? Your eyes twinkle, there are words in them. Your tongue is silken, you captivate everyone. You are like a palanquin in my heart, like a rangoli in my hand. Your words are so innocent and childish. How can anyone remain thirsty in their youth without you? You are the moon of the sky, the sky in their youth. Why do you tease me? Listen, my friend, the depths. Don't become carefree, a lonely clarinets
flamingoes on one foot balance
talent like monkeys on bongos
playin' clarinets are baboons
raccoons a-hootin’ and a-swayin'
lions on slide-trombones
headphones catch them cryin’
giraffes a-bangin' chimes
Times of L.A. laid off its staff
the clock strikes dusk
the sun fades away
a thousand golden lights blinks
to set the scene on fire
crowds carouse
for the merry-go-round
that bright crown of the carnival night
under that picturesque parasol
children clamber up the golden saddles
atop alabaster rides
galloping through infinity
then drums snare with cymbals
while clarinets and woodwinds shriek
in jubilant symphony
laughter jingle
as the circle twirls
and the colourful world dissolve
to a colourless blur
I've got the lecture notes ready
I've got the examples
Just blow what I'm telling you to blow
I am responsible for the resurgence of the sales of saxophones
I unlock the doors of my car
By raising my right palm
You saw the crescent
I saw sod all
You need a guitar player
Bass and the whole caboodle
But don't stop there
Get yourself some
Man clarinets
And ear trumpets
In fact
Sack the band and
Just have a sax on stage
And horn away
Nostril reeds and
Ostentatious bellowing
I'll be your mouthpiece
I'll pretend to be from L.A.
Cringetown bottom burp
The fourth grade band was playing
But my eyes were there alone
Not for flutes or clarinets or drums,
Just Henry on trombone.
All the music was familiar
From the practicing he’d done,
So I knew just what was coming
Once the concert had begun.
He looked confident and happy
Sitting up there on the stage
As I realized, in his childhood,
He has turned another page.
What a thrill to watch him growing
And I know if I’m around,
That wherever music takes him,
That’s the place where I’ll be found.
You can’t lie
To a sweet lyre bird,
You can’t lie
At a small primrose,
Nor to a young Clarisse,
No one will lie,
Or a lying cat,
You can’t lie to me,
You can’t lie to me,
To a white rose,
You can’t lie
To a big yellow elephant,
Men lie too often,
We have to protect ourselves from it,
Flowers, cats, elephants
Understand this well.
We don’t lie to primroses,
We don’t lie to cypresses,
You don’t lie to vipers
Let’s hear what they tell us,
Don’t lie to poets,
On violins, on clarinets,
Don’t lie to daffodils,
Don’t lie to lovers,
Tomorrow they’ll thank us.
clever clouds
chase
cunning clarinets
curious cats
collect
cacophonous cicadas
colorful candles
captivate
cavalier crowds
-----
cavalier crowds
captivate
colorful candles
cacophonous cicadas
collect
curious cats
cunning clarinets
chase
clever clouds
ibanez, ibanez, ibanez to make her dance
french horns to tones of a bassey groove
the bassoons move the volumed effords
coupled with the flutes: the clarinets often are envious
we rather not fuss
we are smart enough to compromise
cornets and trumets the sounds of muted streams
you know what I mean, ya'll know what I mean
smooth groovey sounds, make us wanna move our thangs
aint knowthing wrong with whats
going on
I like it when the bassey grooves
are coupled with the strings.
Ibanez to make her dance
got me in a mood
sweet simple sounds
fesh like showered perfumes
aint no way we messing up on
this groovey tune
ibanez to make her dance
played softly in the tune
grainger Sterling Squeir Phatt groovey tunes.
In band you make music not noise
Sometimes you have to be quite poise
The clarinets may squeak
which will make others freak
but in band you make music not noise
THE FIRST INVOICE
HAD A PURCHASE FOR
12 TRUMPETS
5 TUBAS
10 FRENCH HORNS
7 CLARINETS
10 BASSOONS
8 OBOES
5 FLUTES
4 SNARE DRUMS
2 BASS DRUMS
2 KETTLEDRUMS
15 VIOLENS
5 CHELLO'S
2 TRIANGLES
1 XYLOPHONE
2 BASS GUITARS
2 ACOUSTIC GUITARS
IN THE NOTE AREA WAS A QUOTE
IT SAID
A HUSBAND MIGHT SIT AND HEAR THE WORDS OF A SINGLE MAN
AND IN HIS WORDS MIGHT SPEAK THRU A CONCERN
OF HIS OWN REFLECTION.
BUT HE ONLY KNOW'S THE SUCCESS OF BEING ACCEPTED IN
PROPOSAL: HE LACKS THE ABILITY TO SPEAK FROM DISPAIR
MIGHT SHE SAY NO, HIS WORDS MEAN KNOWTHING.
IF SHE SAY'S YES HIS WORDS ARE PROVERB AND WORTHY OF SPPEAKING OF.
WHICH LACKS CONCERN IS THE POSITION OF BEING
RIGHT
THAT HE THAT ASK MIGHT BE CONSIDERED WRONG
IF SHE HAS ANOTHER.
Clarinets, bassoons, oboes, ugh.
Flutes, oh, yes, Native American flute music please.
Violas. Don’t be prissy!
Cellos. Ha. Ha. Who wants to carry one to school?
First and second violins. Too stringy. Twangy. Hurt my ears.
Trombones and tubas. Oh, yes, please.
Now for my all- time favorites besides the guitar.
Drums
Cymbals.
Bam.
Crash.
Boom
Bam
Give me percussion or do not give me any music at all.
WE KNEAD SUCH & SUCH:
TO COME DOWN HERE
AND SERANDE THESE
DRIFTING LOVERS
MAYBE THE SWEET SOUNDS
OF MUSIC
MIGHT INSPIRE THEM
TO IRON OUT THERE
DIFFERANCES
BASSOONS
OBOE
FLUTES
DRUMS
GUITERS
KETTLERS
CONGO'S
CLARINETS
VIOLENS
CHELLOS
PIANO
SWEET RANGES OF BACKGROUND SINGERS
SUCH AND SUCH A PLACE
AT SUCH AND SUCH
A TIME
TWO WILLINGFUL LOVERS
WHO LOVE ONE ANOTHER
OOH OOH, OOH
SUCH AND SUCH A PLACE
AND SUCH AND SUCH A TIME
SUCH AND SUCH A PLACE
AND SUCH AND SUCH A TIME!
Encore
Cold metal touches my lips
Breathe
Fingers extend
Breathe
Chatter from the audience
Fills my ears
Breathe
Lights from above
Blind me
Breathe
Baton
Moves up
Breathe
Up
Down
Breathe
Tempo
Dit-Dit-Dit
Breathe
Drums sneer at me
Breathe
An explosion
Of sound
Fills the ears
Breathe
A harmony
A symphony
Breathe
Tubas
Low and booming
Breathe
Trombones and Trumpets
Extending each
Note with ethereal beauty
Breathe
Clarinets
Blessing the note
With delicacy
Breathe
Flutes
An island of paradise
Enters with the grace
Of a dove
Breathe
Swooning
At the pitched
Mountain of sound
Breathe
Waves
Hit the audience
With the delicacy of a mother
Breathe
Enveloping them
With the evolving mood
Ominous
To Joyous
Crescendo
Breathe
Clapping booms
In my ears
Stamping of feet
Deafening
Yet craved
Yet beloved
Baton rises
Once more
Once again
Symphony
Overwhelms
All thoughts
All emotion
Breathe
SCARLET BREEZES
Scarlet breezes swirl through the square,
Beckoning us to come
In bright, elysian fare.
A cello and a drum,
Clarinets and trumpets
Arise and stir and glitter in the fountain,
Around your sable ringlets,
In the cloister on the mountain.
There are diamond drops of rain
In your long and raven, perfumed mane.
Let us wander to the amorous refrain
Of violins by the ivory colonnade.
And there in the somnolent, redolent shade
I shall take your tender, fair, white hands,
Where only rapturous love commands,
As we rove among the blooms,
In the garden by the ocean,
Reveling in deep emotion
Beneath our gilded palace,
And its grand, palatial rooms.
And I shall kiss your lovely face,
In a state of imperial, gracious grace,
To the chime of harps and wedding strains
Which will emanate from daisies, dahlias and the breeze,
From the chapels by the rustic lanes,
Beneath the golden linden trees.
JOHN LARS ZWERENZ
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