Who give me cold comfort
when the Moon rides the pale
I see the mice pass the silho
and then I praise Schubert
who has the courage to change his tune
There's a man on a bicycle
he has no choice
but to ride the upturned mile
in search of his brother
Franz Petrer Schubert of Vienna
had little success with genre opera
Theatre&orchestra was more up his street
with his songs few can compete
Gabriel Urbain Faure
with intimate pieces to play
Heir to Schubert & Chopin they of of him
especially moved by his Requiem
Antonio Salieri of Legano
teacher of the famous you may know
Beethoven Schubert &Liszt by name
but Amadeus the film brought more acclaim
I’m a bohemian girl
I wear my hair in curls,
I wear maxi skirts
And denim shirts.
I wear long earrings
And black stockings.
I like folk songs,
And pierced tongues.
I like Wittgenstein,
And Melanie Klein.
I had psychotherapy,
But it was given to me free.
As I am so interesting,
And so infinitely trusting.
My unconscious mind
Is an analyst’s find.
I have such wise dreams,
On intellectual themes.
I see all my lives
From new perspectives.
I was an Egyptian Queen,
Feeling extremely mean.
I loved Mark Anthony
His touch was a symphony
Written by Schubert,odd,
Because Cleopatra was long gone
When Schubert composed his songs
And his symphonies too.
So time has got all curled up,
Like a snake in a drinking cup.
Now I have woken again,
I want that dream all over again.
I want a Roman Emperor
To be a sexual tempter.
I shan’t mind at all,
If I hear him call.
I’ll be excitedly glad
When my hormones go mad.
I’m a Bohemian girl,
I’ll make any man’s hair curl
The sound of your voice
Is like a symphony by Beethoven
A beautiful melody by Schubert
A piano concerto by Mozart
I am totally enthralled by your presence
No longer can I resist your beauty
I must have you, embrace you
Feel your warmth
I am totally enamoured by you
Entranced by your seductive eyes
Your luscious red lips
Your flaxen hair
My heart beats loudly in my chest
At the mere sight of you
I must have you
My arms ache to hold you
My fingers long to explore your body
To know a passion so extreme
A tenderness I've yet to experience
To gaze upon your angelic face
How else to explain this feeling
This desire, this utter craving
To hold you, to enter your private world
Till that ultimate moment of bliss
That moment when emotions explode
And we become one
The outside world no longer exists
In that exquisite moment
There is only you and I among the stars
We are one!
Our capacity appears to be
a maximum of nine symphonies
Beethoven, Schubert, Mahler; Dvorák too
bravely tried to go beyond the ninth
before early, they all passed away.
The list; longer than those mentioned here;
composers; who never wrote to ten.
Was nine the limit of their vision?
Or, can we not comprehend a tenth?
A Time for Nine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Michelle Faulkner
Date wrote: 12-05-2021
https://www.howmanysyllables.com/
Dancing fingers sing me a song of happiness,
And do I not relish the thought and the feeling?
If the element of surprise delights ,
And the rhythms sway my mind,
Am I not complete, the fullness of my body,
One with the passion of my mind?
If the labourer hears the insidious song,
The dancing fingers on the keyboard,
The driving rhythm that yet harmonises
With the particles of the mind, will he
Not sing out and praise his lowly life?
Does not the breast of this man and that woman
Rise up in emotion at the tinkling dance of notes?
My mind seeks rhythms and rhythms engulf my
Mind; mutual harmony with the soul. Sing me
The song.
The Leiermann
(to be spoken or sung to Schubert's The Leiermann)
Here, before the bustling market,
Stands the Leiermann;
Fingers always dancing,
Though the air is chill.
Bright dressed, he smiles
And says hello,
But few look into his eyes,
Or mutter in reply.
It is ever thus,
The conscience of their world,
They buy forgiveness with a
Shining coin, clink into his cap.
Oh Leiermann, will you play
For me, though I have no
Coin to pay? Oh Leiermann
Will you play for me?
The marketplace gives nothing free,
No boons will come my way,
For I have no coins to pay;
Oh Leiermann, will you play for me?
THE JEWELER’S LATHE
Summer’s last rose
After many admiring morning visits
And with nature’s rusty brown and gold
Surrounding, drawing comparison,
Becomes even more pink and beautiful
Being aware as being – native to all souls –
Nature strives to improve,
The old become new
New, alike the jeweler’s lathe
Polishing polishing
Refining awareness -
The familiar like a great Schubert string quartet
Suddenly with new revealing.
Leonard Bernstein says about music,
to the effect,
”An old friend becomes more dear”
Refining one’s awareness
There can be no drudgery,
But there must be effort,
Must be the look-through,
A soul’s effort to find.
Therein lies the beauty,
The finding.
When the diamond
Set to the jeweler’s lathe
Catches sun
Dave Austin
(based on Franz Schubert)
wordless at this moment
virginal in a closed room
dark as a berry
Gretchen maid of wood
webbed as an old barn
eyes drops of glass
that seek a window
empty of steps, cast
ing a look at
all that brings no favour
or slowly turns the wheel that
darkly bares the thread;
the cloth of love forsaken;
heartpace of an empty view;
a sort of end, cut.
SYMPHONY
Searching the audience
Young and old in rapt attention
Maestro, Bernstein, has come on stage
Players have done their final warm up
House lights are dimmed
Only the foots and high spots remain
No one stirs, all are reverently expectant
You know this work – it’s Schubert – relax
Dave Austin
Sweet sounds so dear—
Pure timeless tones of gladness—
Your melodies bestir my soul to flight—
Through darkest night
And doleful days of sadness—
I thank you for my hope and banished fear,
Oh precious music, mine to hear.
In sorrow born—
From dust to dust we wander,
Lamenting, all too late, come winter frost,
The springtime lost.—
Our lives we vainly squander.
The mourning bells do toll for us, forlorn.—
Oh may we hark to heaven's horn!
Sweet sounds so dear—
Pure timeless tones of gladness—
Your melodies bestir my soul to flight—
Through darkest night
And doleful days of sadness—
I thank you for my hope and banished fear,
Oh precious music, mine to hear.
– Harley White
[Song Lyrics for 'An die Musik' – Franz Schubert (1797–1828) ]
The sound of your voice
Is like a symphony by Beethoven
A beautiful melody by Schubert
A piano concerto by Mozart
I am totally enthralled by you
No longer can I resist your beauty
I must have you, embrace you
Feel your warmth
I am totally enamoured by you
Entranced by your seductive eyes
Your luscious red lips
Your flaxen hair
My heart beats loudly in my chest
At the mere sight of you
I must have you
My arms ache to hold you
My fingers long to explore every inch of your body
To know a passion so extreme
A tenderness I've yet to experience
To gaze upon your angelic face
How else to explain this feeling
This desire, this utter craving
To hold you, to enter your private world
Till that ultimate moment of bliss
That moment when emotions explode
And we become one
The outside world no longer exists
In that exquisite moment
There is only you and I among the stars
We are one!
© Jack Ellison 2014
Changing thoughts
were creating chaos in frenzy,
unabashed, following the stricken
prey, to reclaim
the violence of a stalker.
Was there any law of jungle ?
Or rule of law in the midstream
of a formless prosthesis,
gaping void, throwing up
a primordial fear.
Becoming tired of looking at
the wastes around. No mystery
was left in life. How often you
will sit on the pyre to ignite the high
priests of knowledge ?
The curved images of receding
years are disappearing. How long
you will wait,
how long ?
Satish Verma
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