On Wednesday,
the piped-in music
is the dulcet tones of
a soprano saxophone, a theme
some clientele believe balances
smooth with the hot and sour soup
and the first plate of butter shrimp
with white rice, fried pepper squid, and
the hibachi chicken, stratifying the ambience
of a buffet; but the second plate,
picked and chosen
among the sesame chicken, and the
general tso’s,
and the chicken with broccoli
all taste
like a thin song
of tempura chicken (sans the
sweet and sour sauce) on the
front serving table.
On weekends, they serve dim sum
and there are family style meals
served in the banquet room. The music
from the erhu and the lute
is the the sum of the whole,
a way to return
the lever to its grounded point
while remaining on the fulcrum.
…just because I feel like writing a post, and I don’t really have any poetry ready, this is what you get.
Milestone: This week, I reached 1000 followers on the blog. I am thrilled that this many people and/or bots have decided to link and check an update every now and then. For you semi regular readers: person in India who likes my poem “Respite,” friends of “Earful of Cider“, and those that search for sonnets and happen upon mine…..Thank you.
I hope you will continue to visit, comment occasionally, and enjoy my poetry.
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Adjacent tunes on an mp3 player: Shuffle mode can bring some interesting songs together, particularly if you have eclectic tastes. This week I listened to A Mighty Fortress is our God , performed by GLAD (a Christian acappella group – not the antidefamation alliance group – which has 2 A’s) – and Happiness is a Warm Gun, by the Beatles. Definitely an odd pairing, but the musical transition was remarkable.
*********************************** Still Reading: A few weeks ago, I commented that I had started The Monuments Men, in anticipation of the movie release. As typical for me, I have slowed down the reading…and the book remains rather dry, but apparently the movie reviews are saying similar things about the film.
*********************************** Writing:
This week, I submitted an essay to an essay contest. It was a personal challenge to see if I could put something coherent together in a short period (a week) that wasn’t in iambic pentameter or filled with rhymes and near rhymes. We’ll see how that goes. Announcement of finalists aren’t made until May. Until that time…
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Thanks again for getting me over the 1000 hump. Hopefully 2000 won’t take 3 years.
for the words you breathe,
I say
pronounce them, announce
their coming on the air,
project outward to the stars
that settle
on winter’s prelude
and follow them out,
moving in a waltz grazioso or
or dolcissimo,
until the sun rises
and the songs of spring return.
One hundred
twenty eight beats
per minute,
beginning like rain
settling on a tenement roof
from a passing storm.
The noise rides a swell
to overtake the edge of
docile music
and crescendos-
then wittily settles in between
the pacing of a brisk walk.
After forty breaths that
fumble hand-over-hand to
scale keys to a resonant finish,
such sounds decay, in imitation
of distant leaves rustling
in the last gasp
of a gale.
Even over the sounds
of thunder, masquerading
as distant drums
across the plain, the flute-sounds
remain longer, as her melody
and timbre
curl with the landscape
that returns
upon awakening
with the downbeat
of each new day.
The wind and the lion roared
as the blades cut a swath
in diagonal, then glory
reigned over the edging, with
pauses to reload
and storm the foundation.
Finally, after putting away
the implements of destruction,
a moment to sip iced tea
and ponder
the creation and beauty
of living things,
as the breeze perturbated
through the snowmound.
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a brief poem inspired by my random playlist while doing yardwork over the weekend.
The Wind and the Lion, composed by Jerry Goldsmith
Glory, composed by James Horner
Forrest Gump Suite, composed by Alan Silvestri
A cappella music (without instrumental accompaniment) is particularly enjoyable for me to listen to. As a poet (and an avocational musician), I am drawn to the similarities that poems and a cappella music have. Lyrical phrasing, meter, rhyming, and onomatopoeia mean so much to a cappella music, because it relies so heavily on the human vocal element.
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I woke up this morning with a song in my head that I hadn’t thought about in quite some time. This song is not an unusual one…if you are familiar with hymns, you’d probably say that you’ve heard this one countless times in church.^ In the Garden (And he walks with me) is a gospel song written by American songwriter Charles Austin Miles (1868 – 1946), a former pharmacist who served as editor and manager at Hall-Mack publishers for 37 years. The story goes that he wrote it in the winter of 1912, after sitting for a time in his basement, with no windows, meditating on a scripture passage…(John 20:1-18). The subject is Mary Magdalene, coming upon the tomb of Jesus on the third day after his crucifixion. Miles was inspired by this event, and wrote the following poem.
In the Garden
I come to the garden alone,
While the dew is still on the roses,
And the voice I hear falling on my ear
The Son of God discloses.
Refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
He speaks, and the sound of His voice
Is so sweet the birds hush their singing,
And the melody that He gave to me
Within my heart is ringing.
Refrain
I’d stay in the garden with Him,
Though the night around me be falling,
But He bids me go; through the voice of woe
His voice to me is calling.
Refrain:
And He walks with me, and He talks with me,
And He tells me I am His own;
And the joy we share as we tarry there,
None other has ever known.
Yes, this IS a poem. Miles set it to music later that same day and it went on to become one of the best known hymns of the era. It has been covered by Elvis, Tennessee Ernie Ford, Ella Fitzgerald, Johnny Cash, and The Charlie Daniels Band.^^
Look at the rhyme scheme (a b c b). Check out the meter…if you know the hymn well, you can’t stop from swaying with the sing-song scansion in this. Further, the imagery of the garden over an entire day is there…dew on the roses, birds hush their singing, the night is falling. I feel the joy in the words, no music needed.
But…
I’ve a got a version of this poem/song that always improves my mood.
The group Acappella is an ongoing part of the ministry http://acappella.org/blog/ . The group has been in existence since the mid-eighties. They’ve had a number of personnel changes over the years. The version of In the Garden was part of a 1994 album, Hymns for all the World. This is not your grandmother’s gospel version. Check out the “walking” bass line throughout this recording, a very cool thing to add to this song, given the lyrics.
Give it a listen. You won’t be sorry.
This is a great musical setting for the poem, and the music serves a purpose to refresh the words.
See what I mean?
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^ I’m certain of my reasons for thinking of this song and the particular version on the video is my “go-to” version. Let’s just say I’ve had a lot on my mind lately, and I have faith that things beyond my control can be taken care of…Without preaching…we’ll leave it at that.
A cappella music (without instrumental accompaniment) is particularly enjoyable for me to listen to. As a poet (and an avocational musician), I am drawn to the similarities that poems and a cappella music have. Lyrical phrasing, meter, rhyming, and onomatopoeia mean so much to a cappella music, because it relies so heavily on the human vocal element.
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The band Yes was/is an incredibly talented group from the early seventies and into the eighties (I know some form of them still tours, but we are talking hey day here). The musicianship of their albums is breathtaking. Symphonic rock, synthesizers, and intricate melodies all cemented their legacy. If you’ve never heard Roundabout, check it out.
Their 90125 album from 1983 was a shift to a more pop-oriented format. On that album was a unique song “Leave It“, done primarily a cappella. It definitely made an impression on me. There are some great harmonies in this song, along with some provoking lyrics.
I can feel no sense of measure,
no illusions as we take
refuge in young man’s pleasure,
breaking down the dreams
we make real.
Taps and Ratamacues 