Today’s inspiration comes from Stacey Joy. Stacey is National Board Certified Teacher, Google Certified Educator, L.A. County and LAUSD Teacher of the Year with 35 years of elementary classroom teaching experience. She currently teaches 4th grade at Baldwin Hills Pilot & Gifted Magnet School. Stacey has served as a partner and guiding teacher for graduate students in the U.C.L.A. Teacher Education Program. Teaching her Joyteam students the power of knowledge, self-advocacy and justice are the core of her practice. Stacey is a poet at heart with one self-published book and several poems published in Savant Poetry Anthologies. Stacey is mom to her grown son, daughter and a Himalayan cat. Follow Stacey on Twitter @joyteamstars.
Inspiration
Music is the source of beauty, memories, and emotions. When I was experiencing a dark and depressing period of my life, I turned to poetry and music for healing. Find something in music or lyrics that bring you peace and healing to write a musical poem today. This could be done with students when they’re experiencing stressful times (like now).
Process
Spend some time listening to music or reading lyrics. Write as you listen or write after you’ve read some lyrics. Find some music terms that resonate with your spirit. Dig deep in your soul to find something on which to focus your poem. It could be an emotion that needs to be shared, a pain that needs to heal, a love that you need to express. Then write and find ways to include musical terms to make it a harmonious symphony of words.
These links have an extensive list of music terms:
- https://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/musical-terms/
- http://www.classicalworks.com/html/glossary.html
Stacey’s Poem
Riffs and Runs
By Stacey L. Joy
Floating in the middle of the ocean
Surrounded by its rhythmic reverie
Chaotic syncopations of my life
Fade away on foamy bubbles
Crying for the cadence
Of love imagining its loss
Like lyrical letters written
In sinking sand beneath my feet
My staccato heart beats
To find a safe space
Between riffs and runs
and a wispy lullaby
Oh harmonious calore
Harp song to my pain
Be my orchestral poem
A requiem for my soul
Write
Your Turn
Now, scroll to the comment section below to write your own poem. (This is a public space, so you may use only your first name or initials depending on your privacy preferences.) Not ready? That’s okay. Read the poems already posted for more inspiration. Ponder your own throughout the day. Return later. And, if the prompt does not work for you, that is fine. All writing is welcome. Just write something. Also, please be sure to respond to at least three writers. Oh, and a note about drafting: Since we are writing in short bursts, we all understand (and even welcome) the typos and partial poems that remind us we are human and that writing is always becoming. If you’d like to invite other teachers to write with us, tell them to subscribe.
John, I know that you never wrote a song about enchiladas,
But it sure would have been fun to hear you set the record straight.
Sometimes we think we’re drowning,
Sometimes we think things will never get worse,
We cry ice cubes and feel like clowns,
Then we laugh at the joke, and the world keeps spinning.
You’re gone now, but the world will keep spinning,
And most importantly,
Your records will keep spinning,
And we’ll keep dancing.
That’s the way that the world goes ‘round.
Did you know that what we call a stylus for writing on our tablets is an ancient writing implement, of a small rod with a pointed end for scratching letters on wax-covered tablets and a blunt end for obliterating them?
Stymied by a Stylus
I ordered a stylus online,
Blame it on COVID one nine.
I couldn’t get out to the stores.
So I ordered, then went back to my chores.
I got what I ordered
But not what I wanted.
I thought I was so current communicating online, most of the time.
Now, as the devices are getting smaller and my fingers are getting stiffer,
I need help. The stylus is supposed to make me work swifter.
I just wanted one of those nobby nosed markers, not pointy like a cone,
To tap the letters and numbers on my tablet and cell phone.
Instead of moving forward with technology,
I’m having to go back to ancient times.
Nothing is really new. The oldies knew what to do.
Sharpen a stick and scratch out the letter.
Use the smooth end, to erase and make it better.
Everything old is new again.
The old fashioned stylus is taking a spin
And creating havoc for me!
I went online, thinking I’d get it time
I wanted to use I to draft this day’s rhyme
To work really fast,
With something that will last
But it didn’t work.
And It wasn’t a quirk.
I just didn’t know
My ignorance would show.
What goes around, comes around
I wish I’d known what I’d need for a phone.
Ignorance about an old fashioned tool
Is making this here lady look like a fool.
Now everyone knows, I’m not all that cool.
Alexander Hamilton
Does not sing
“Dear Theodosia.”
It is the antagonist
Aaron Burr
Who sings the song.
He also praises
His son,
Whose name is Philip.
It is a reminder.
My childhood dentist
Berated me
For subpar brushing.
I thought he was mean,
But he donated
Dentistry to those in need.
He crafted the
Cross in the chapel
Of our church.
It is a reminder.
I’m not sure why I’m being so obstinate lately, but I didn’t quite follow the prompt. This is something music related that I’ve been thinking about lately, though.
Born twelve years apart, with a slew of sibs in between
we lived in two nearly parallel universes.
By the time I was twelve and had a few dollars to buy a record,
you were out of the house and married.
You were listening to ELO, Jefferson Starship, and Aretha.
I was immersed in the world of heavy metal-
couldn’t get enough Kiss, Iron Maiden, and UFO.
We grew, we changed, we matured.
And our taste in music did, too.
Who could have predicted that so many decades later
our musical paths would not cross, but entwine?
Bringing us not only together at a concert in a cavern in Tennessee,
but as brother and sister who revel in each other’s company.
The music we both love brings us joy and comfort,
but more importantly,
it has intensified that familial bond that could have easily slipped away with the years.
Music is powerful, thank you for reminding us in this poem.
Mo, Katrina beat me to the punch! I was drawn by the same lines,
The music we both love brings us joy and comfort
I love the story this poem tells. Music can be divisive, but not in a threatening way. In fact, if anything, it teaches us to accept our different musical taste, but also find common ground.
Music
Music is …
Happiness
Sadness
Venting
Hoping
Dreaming
Releasing
Music…
Penetrates my soul
Envelopes my heart and
Dictates my mood
Music …
can raise me high
can drown me sorrow
eases my anger
Music makes me feel
And feeling makes me alive.
Monica, I like how you e formatted your poem. The last line is lovely.
Music hasn’t met my needs
Each song contains situations
None of my problems can they meet.
Silence is all that I can take
Each of my words require hesitations
A smile on my face is something I can’t fake.
Relax during a pandemic?
I guess I am in need
a relaxation vacation.
Jessica, the sentiments in your poem are easy to relate to. So many people are struggling to read. I haven’t watched tv in weeks. Hopefully the relaxation vacation will help us get back to ourselves soon.
I love the line, “silence is all that I can take.” Isn’t it funny that if music allowed for silence, we would tap our iphones to see what happened or touch the dial on our car radio? I have never really thought about how music handles silence.
Give me a beat
Sharp notes to wake
Give me a beat
Crescendos to create
Give me a beat
A pause not too long
Give me a beat
A moment for a song
I just need to make a sound
To rise up, out, to resonate
I just need to get a little loud
To push open this gate
I just need this anger found
To hit the coda and melt away
Give me a room
Acoustics with arms open
Give me a room
A voice like an explosion
Give me a room
I know I’m not broken
I just need to make a sound
To rise up, out, to resonate
I just need to get a little loud
To push open this gate
I just need this anger found
To hit the coda and melt away
song lyrics
if my words did glow with the gold of sunshine
song lyrics
ripple in still water
when there is no pebble tossed
nor wind to blow
on any given day, in any given moment
words ripple through
a sound track to life
a link to the moment
how the hell can a person go to work in the morning
and come home in the evening and have nothing to say
twenty year old me could never have imagined
how do people let go?
go to the country, build you a home
plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
not far from
our urban garden edged by peach trees
come on home
come on home
no you don’t want to
be alone
just come on home
left me weeping thinking of Rachel
alone in Mexico City
in this time of corona
so easy for the words to ripple through
Music is so healing and brings our emotions to the surface in a moment, doesn’t it? Weeping lasts for a moment, but joy comes in the morning. May Rachel stay healthy and whole in this time of corona.
I am struck by “come on home, come on home,” thinking how music and our soundtracks are also our home, how their “words ripple through.” This is beautiful and poignant.
Love the melding of songs that I love! And, she’s not alone.
Love’s Deceit
Cold frozen heart
Once met love in the dark
only to be battered and broken
bruised and abused
No word spoken
Could mend this broken heart
Troubled and confused
Wanderer, drifter, loner
Don’t listen to these love songs
They are filled with lies and
Deceit, believed by the gullible
How cunning?
Blind leading the blind
To a sea of sorrow
Search, oh how they search
Only to drown
The beholder
Is not who you think he is
Beauty fabricates illusions
Things are not often what they seem
Tragedy awaits the naive
Who recklessly falls into love’s trap
It watches patiently
As another person’s hope in love is crushed
It boasts in its ability to concur
To disappoint
To cause mistrust
To destroy
Never trust it
It is always candy coated
Walk away
It is better to not have known love
Thank you, Stacey Joy, You’ve brought joy to our hearts, inspiring us to consider music that motivates us to hold on one more day! The music we call reference may differ, but the results, in the different meters, even different keys, somehow harmonize in the responses that have been posted! After the opening movements of this Beethoven’s Ninth symphony of poems, the closing chorus of courage could be from Handel’s “Hallelujah Chorus!”
Be blessed, my dear, and rest now.
My favorite pastime as a teenager was to collect and memorize song lyrics…I would obsessively re-write them on scraps of notebook paper, scrawl them on the backs of my hand or my grocery bag book covers. For today’s prompt, I decided to create a found poem. I scoured my Spotify playlists and most-repeated songs to pull lyrics, lines that resonated with me and pull me back to the song again and again. I tried to organize them into cohesive groups based on subject, tone, and theme.
There is a light and it never goes out
(A Lyric Found Poem)
One black day in ghostly white
For just another sleepless night
Nothing is as it has been
And I miss your face like Hell
Lately my hands they don’t feel like mine
My eyes been strung with dust, I’m blind
Oh it seems night endlessly begins and ends
After all the dreaming I come home again
I’m so tired
I wish I was the moon tonight
There are times life will rattle your bones
And will bend your limbs
People you’ve been before that you
Don’t want around anymore
Dream of a time when your heart was open wide
And you loved things just because
Can you see the light?
Can you hear the hum?
Won’t you help me to get through it, I’ve been flailing like a child
My mistakes they are so many, for my weary heart is wild
We couldn’t all be cowboys,
Some of us are clowns
We were born before the wind
Also younger than the sun
People try and hide the night
People try and hide the light
And maybe ours is the cause of all mankind
Getting love, make more, and try to stay alive
This is why, why we fight
Why we lie awake
How long will I last, can I turn up the heat?
What star am I circling, what’s circling me?
It’s answering what’s asked of you
To give the love you find until it’s gone
If it’s love that we give
Then it’s love that we reap
Oh, the heart beats in its cage
Yes, the heart beats in its cage
Now here’s the sun, it’s alright
Now here’s the moon, it’s alright
When you wrote “Lately my hands they don’t feel like mine”, I felt the immensity of the loss many of us experience as we move away from our normal work environments. Towards the end of your work when you wrote “the heart beats in its cage,” I think this part provided a great visual of how we currently feel. Thank you for sharing!
I resisted
calling myself a writer
until
a wise writing friend told me
a writer is merely
one who puts words on a page
therefore I am
a writer
I resisted
calling myself a musician
no way
a REAL musician
would scorn
my squawking goose of an accordion
my limping, pained piano
but then
a wise self told me
a musician is merely
one who plays notes
therefore I am
allison— we so often shy away from things because we can’t be “real”enough. How many opportunities do we miss because we are not real? We are all writers—some of us as a direct result of this forum. We are all real writers ( and I think it’s so cool that you play the accordion!)
Allison… I love the strength in the voice here. At first uncertain and then that accordion came like a “squawking goose” (love that). That “limping…piano”…super…even pained, I love the sound that the instruments send forth… seriously, I even love listening to the piano tuner plink away At my house, key by key…it’s music of another sort…but still music…I love the sound. Hope all is well and that your folks are faring well there. Sending cyber hugs. Susie
I SO feel this way. Your poem reminds me that even someone as great as Maya Angelou even felt this way, “I have written eleven books, but each time I think, ‘uh oh, they’re going to find out now. I’ve run a game on everybody, and they’re going to find me out.’ “
Listen for your Beat
Verse one
Sweet lullaby
whispered in soft alto
A caress on your baby cheek
Listen for your beat
Verse two
Jubilant two step rhythm
Splashing in puddles,
Bounding down streets
Playing in allegro
Listen for your beat
Verse three
When you feel disconnected
and dissonance bellows
I will always be your counterpoint
Listen for your beat
Verse four
Let me soothe your worries
In a sweet cadence
When the world sees you as an
interlude, off pitch, staccato …
I will always love your vibrato
Keep listening for your beat
A beautiful journey through your child’s many stages, I especially love the imagery in the second stanza—jubilant two-step rhythm …. playing in allegro. It is joyous.
This came off in such a beautiful jazz melody when I read it. I felt calmed and the parallel drawn to feeling like an interlude or off-pitch really struck me because in musical terms that capture the sense of loneliness people encounter in regular walks of life and also during current day COVID situations. Thank you for this!
What kind of song would I be?
Would I be a sad song?
A berceuse of solemn words that string together
to advocate anguish and pain
The sounds of a heart breaking as the piano keys play
Or would I be a country song?
Living for life on the backroads like Thomas Rhett or Luke Bryan
when he says he’s gonna make me fall in love
My boots diggin’ into that Georgia mud
Maybe a love song?
That’s what I’ll be
Allegro and forte.
Passionate and spunky.
Lively and giocoso.
A life living in a car with the windows down
wind in my hair
volume all the way up
wheels that witness the tears, laughter, & memories
A song to represent it all
I feel the songs vibrating through the car in your last stanza, Your choice of words feels like movement and beat and I can picture the wind in my hair. Totally connect!
Relaxing
Today, silence was music to my ears.
Today, I relaxed to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
Today, time was kept by the cadence of my breathing.
Today, I spent the day adagio…restful at ease.
Donnetta, “restful at ease” – there’s no more important goal of any day! Lucky you!
Donnette this was something I didn’t know I needed. To be “relaxed to the rhythm of my heartbeat” and to find comfort in those lines. Thank you for sharing!
So peaceful. The repetition works really well.
THANK YOU for this word: I am going to use “adagio” to describe my intent through Covid-19. I will be restful. I will be at ease. I’ll call it my adagio prayer.
I’ve been taking more time to meditate lately, and this poem takes me to that peace — “time was kept by the cadence of my breathing”. Thank you for sharing!
I so understand what you mean. I LOVE music, but sometimes “the rhythm or my heartbeat”, and “the cadence of my breathing” sounds like a symphony.
Life In Four Movements
By Donna Russ 4/5/2020
Allegro:
Birth
Learn to talk, learn to walk
Growing fast, youth won’t last
Bubble gum, lollipops, ice cream
Playing outside, bikes to ride
Daydream
Start school
Reading, writing, ‘rithmatic
Can’t stop time; it marches on.
Andante:
Teenager
Body changing, rearranging
Nothing stays the same
So much to do, so much to learn
Ball games, dances, prom, graduation
Time drags on; can’t grow up fast enough.
Scherzo:
Adulthood
College days,
experimenting; sex, drugs, love
Marriage, children, life is a joy
Working, playing, being Political
Stretching, bending, life’s never ending
Day to day duties.
Running towards retirement
Grandkids, world travel, settlingin one place
Running, running, running to accomplish as much as can, until
The end!
Finale:
Old
Cold, always cold
Tired, Winding down
Finding pleasure in the simpler things
Waiting for what the afterlife brings.
Stacey — I really liked the prompt with a focus on music. It was just the thing. Your mentor poem reminded me of the lovely one you wrote about sitting in your favorite spot looking out at the ocean. Now, I’m floating there in that water with you, feeling and hearing the music of that powerful water. “Chaotic syncopations” “Crying for the cadence” “Like lyrical letters written/ in sinking sand” (WOW!) “safe place between riffs and runs” — lovely sense of movement and sound. Super. Thanks for the guidance these last days! Susie
I love the way your songs move through the stages of life. I actually took a similar approach to my poem, thinking of songs as stages of life.
I especially loved your images of “allegro. Bubble gum, lollipops, ice cream/Playing outside, bikes to ride.” Those were spot on.
The Bonfire Two Doors Down
A bonfire two houses down
Blaring hybrid classic rock/country
What I assumed were geese
Were people: chatting and coughing
I wanna love all that I hear
But I filter it out much too soon
If it ain’t me who made the discovery
I’ll ditch your cheap hand-me-down tunes
My banjo hangs lifeless and sad
Five hapless strings rolled in rust
And my mandolin strings might snap
With my fingerprints clear in the dust
Polka and parody led me right here
In the backseat of a soccer van
The road trip kept going for decades
With “Weird Al” and countless indie bands
And tonight, the bonfire is over
We missed the drunk group sing-along
All I hear now is a sewing machine
And the birds chirp an old goodnight song
(And I wonder: is pleasure in silence so wrong?
And the birds chirp an old goodnight song)
Wow! Just wow! So many vivid images. Especially loved, “My banjo hangs lifeless and sad/five hapless strings rolled in rust …”
This poem really speaks to me.
I like the different glimpses of music playing, instruments hanging on the wall, music in different places. Bookended by the bonfire. Four line stanzas til the end. A sort of punctuation.
Soundtrack
The pulse of music from
LPs
45s
8-tracks
cassettes
CDs
provided the soundtrack
of my upbringing.
Every few years,
a new media
the conduit of
tunes cherished
enough to purchase.
I’d get drawn in via
the radio stations
on dials that stubbornly
resisted clear reception
wuhwuh crickle crackle
Dick Clark
Wolfman Jack
Casey Kasem
pointed me toward
top hits,
urging me to bike
(or later, drive)
to Williams Record Store
or Record Cellar
with money in my pocket
to purchase the album.
I’d listen to the whole thing
over and over and over
often liking tracks that
weren’t radio worthy.
Later,
Columbia House
with its mini album covers
lured me in
“Buy 12 for a 1¢”
tear and stick those
stamps on your order form,
oblivious to the commitment.
Tear the plastic wrap off those babies
and pop them in and fall in love.
Country cruising,
cruising Sixth Street,
circling Frostop
Thump, thrum, thattle
dates, dances, proms
wang, wong, wuzzle.
Tears
Elation
Euphoria
Befuddlement
Rejection
Confusion
Heartache
Heartbreak
Self-discovery
Music helped
Music encouraged
Music soothed
Music erased
Music taught
Music reminds
and takes me back
to those emotions
years later
every time I catch
a key tune
on a throwback station
Many tunes
Many memories
Music, the soundtrack
of my life.
Susan — This is really a trip to my own teen years… you so effectively took me there with the very specific images. I loved the trip: “soundtrack of my upbringing,” “circling Frostop” followed by all those sounds “wang wong puzzle.” The listing of musics powers is so true…it “soothed” and “erased” — music is pretty powerful stuff. Fun to take the journey with you! Susie
This poem took my back to high school days when we try to get the perfect recording off the radio. It reminded me of the cassette tapes, 45s, and albums I purchased over the years. I think I too go sucked in to the 12 for 1 cent deal, as well. Thank you so much for taking. me back.
I had fun listening to a favorite playlist, creating this poem…
Dancing Together
David sings his love song,
home is where I want to be,
Mavis belts out she’ll take me there, and
Al begs, come and take me.
Here we are,
dancing together,
just the two of us.
you and I.
Its about rhythm, tempo, and beat,
no matter – rock, soul, jazz, or blues,
the way you swept me off my feet,
the way you do the things you do,
Here we are,
dancing together,
just the two of us.
you and I.
Diana hears a symphony,
Soulfully, Van croons about moondance,
Temptations aren’t too proud to beg,
What’s love got to do with it?, Tina demands.
Here we are,
dancing together,
just the two of us.
you and I.
We are together, laughing and swaying,
Up on our feet, making the moves,
Sugar pie, honey bunch,
I want to spend some time with you,
Here we are,
dancing together,
just the two of us.
you and I.
Baby, I need your loving,
let’s dance to unwind and let go.
Bill would love this dancing sunshine,
I know, I know, I know, I know.
Here we are,
dancing together,
just the two of us.
you and I.
Maureen — Oh man, you hit so many songs that I absolutely love, grew up with, LOVE! You so successfully created a rhythm that feels like dancing. “I know, I know, I know, I know”… and I’m here singing right along with Bill Withers and the Four Tops “I Can’t Help Myself” …Sugar Pie! YES! All of these are wonderful…and the whole poem dances! Thank you for bringing me such a big, fat smile! Susie
Love this ode to the musicians who fill our souls. I will now go listen to Diana!
I love all the musical quotation! It feels like listening to a mixtape, reading your poem. Love that feeling. Thank you!
You took me back, way back. Your use of song lyrics is ingenious. It ties the beginning to the end, flawlessly. Thanks for a walk down memory lane.
My Ukelele and I
I strum on the four chords
My fingers are aching
The melodic notes flow
Sweet music fills the airwaves
Life once got too busy to play
Now at this diminuendo
My calluses are coming back in full force
Two old friends reacquainted
Darkness drifts away on a high C
The notes release my worries
This is great. It’s crazy how this quarantine is both a blessing and a curse. First off, the sound of the unkelele is so special. I associate it with island sounds, island weather, and the carefree lifestyle of island life. So it sets a great tone. I love the use of the word diminuendo and the following line “my calluses are coming back in full force” creates such great imagery. Then the there is such peace in the final line.
Laurly, this is so beautifully said: “Life once got too busy to play/Now at this diminuendo” – your poem is a poignant artifact of the ‘rewards’ of this pandemic, the time and place to become reacquainted [loved that word, too!] with past passions. Thank you for this poem!
Lauryl — Yes! Those calluses “coming back”… bringing you and your uke back together. I like that this lets “darkness drift”… a “release” indeed! Sweet! Susie
Lauryl, I love how you are getting reacquainted even through the calluses to accept what Uke has to offer, and maybe you will perform in Zoom for us?
There’s nothing quite as instantly therapeutic as the moment you play a C chord…I can relate so much to this, especially those moments when life is too busy to play (I HATE those times).
It was a breath of fresh air to see your discription of playing a stringed instrument; the calluses, that had to be rebuilt after a long reprieve from playing. I can relate, playing makes the world fade to black.
I’m with Dr. Donovan, play your uke for us! I’ve always envied those who can play an instrument, and their connection with music. Lovely poem!!
Oh Lauryl, there is a silver lining for you in this diminuendo of life’s busyness. Here’s to the ukulele calluses developing on your finger tips and on your resolve for when life gets busy again. “The notes release my worries” So true! Music is a healer in all times. Keep playing.
I love the line..The notes release my worries. This also makes me think back to when I live in Hawaii. I should have learned to play. I know it’s not too late, but definitely wouldn’t be the same.
Stay- (by Jenny Sykes-A found poem inspired by the songs of Dave Matthews Band)
Everything’s different
Storm outside
Thunder’s trill booming
Images grow darker still
I dream myself a thousand times around the world,
But I can’t get out of this place.
Digging a ditch
Where silence lives
Where all these worries weighing down on me
Will rise
And here I will spread my wings
Yes I will call this home!
Here we have been standing for a long, long time
Treading trodden trails for a long, long time
Adagio movements become the norm
Wasting time
Hey!
How did I come to this?
Dark clouds may hang on us
But we will work it out.
Come out,
Can you not see?
Say you will lay your arms down!
Mercy will we overcome this?
Carry on just a little bit longer
I will give you what you need.
Lift up your heart
Lift up your eyes
Look up!
Celebrate we will
Because life is short but sweet for certain
Here we’re dancing on the ground.
Tempo increasing,
A gradual crescendo.
Am I right side up or upside down?
Is this real or am I dreaming?
As the stars disappear to nothing.
See it from the window
Shadow on the wall, how they dance
Not much of nothing
Look at this fire burning wild
Look at how the children play
I shall miss these lento moments
When it all rolls by
Take me back!
No!
Want to stay, stay for a while.
None of us know what’s to come tomorrow
But I’m not going out today
Sing it from the window
The symphony of Stay awhile.
The symphony of stay awhile. Your last line is beautiful!
Jennifer, I believe that your asking the question within this poetic reflection suggests you believe music may be the answer as we wait:
Mercy will we overcome this?
Carry on just a little bit longer
I will give you what you need.
Lift up your heart
Lift up your eyes
Look up!
For many, look up, out and around, listening to the sound of birds chirping, watching wind whistling through the blossoming trees, are encouraged by feelings like those in your closing stanza
Mercy will we overcome this?
Carry on just a little bit longer
I will give you what you need.
Lift up your heart
Lift up your eyes
Look up!
Thanks for the encouragement to stay inside for at least one more day!
Your first and last stanzas are the perfect bookends to this piece. I really felt our situation in your first words. And then you end with the symphony of Stay awhile ( love that!) and remind us to sing it from the window – I can envision so many around the world doing this right now!
I love, love found poems! Thank you for sharing. Soo creative to make a poem using words from a single band and to make it relevant to the current situation. Bravo!!!
My apologies for this poem. It’s more about a musical experience than musical terms. I’m going to play around with this one to incorporate more musical notes. P.S. I thought about titling this “The Musician Will Remain Nameless” LOL!
Aural Seduction
Stone City
Smoky saloon–you were
Center stage
Strumming your guitar
Crooning original tunes
And John Prine
Seducing me so shamelessly
Arousing a desperate desire
Impossible to hide
Sweet Lord
My soul felt on fire
To this day
I still sway off-kilter
When I hear you sing
Sweetly surrendering, longing and lustful
Captured by words
Stroking an inner chord
Transforming me weak at the knees
Barb Edler
April 5, 2020
My gosh! You should never apologize for a poem this moving, this honest, this sensual. Sweet Lord/my soul felt on fire. Wow.
Barb — This really does take me to the music of the moment…listening to John Prine (of course, my favorite guitar pickin’ lyric master)… and the power for music to knock you “off-kilter” and striking that “inner chord.” Some songs, some music does, indeed, make me “weak at the knees.” Some songs I can’t even sing because they choke me up in a way I can’t shake. That’s it’s own kind of healing… music. aaaah. Thanks for such a heartfelt poem! Susie
Barb, I loved this so, SO much! “Seducing me so shamelessly…My soul set on fire… Sweetly surrendering, longing and lustful…” The pathos you used in this took me to some of my favorite memories. Thank you!
Wow! You’ve done an amazing job of putting me in the moment. I’m not familiar with John Prine but I’ve totally had the experience you have created with other performers. “…weak at the knees” — I have so been there!
Oh WOW –
This line: Stroking an inner chord
You are killin’ it, Barb.
(Love the “Aural Seduction” title)
And “sweet lord” was so perfect! Yikes! I feel this one!
The imagery in this work is intense! I think as a musician, I related to how when you have to play, it is an undying hunger to create. Thank you for this!
Hosannah, Hosannah, to God and the Lamb.
Families gathered together
in isolated homes
spanning across continents and oceans
in a time of world fear—
we stand together:
Hosannah, Hosannah, to God and the Lamb.
Moist eyes shine
as millions of Saints wave
clean, white handkerchiefs
back and forth,
on Palm Sunday—
united not just with each other,
but with Saints of old
in praising our Savior:
Hosannah, Hosannah, to God and the Lamb.
Our prophet leads us
In a celebration of joy
The truth restored
Our God still speaks
There is hope.
Amen, Amen and Amen.
https://newsroom.churchofjesuschrist.org/article/solemn-assembly-hosanna-shout-april-2020
Rachel, what a timely and powerful poem this is. The ending repetition reads like a hymn and resonates the urgency of our current time.
Rachel,
This is so beautiful. Our family was one “gathered together/in isolated homes” as we crowded around the computer screen streaming our Palm Sunday mass. I love the gentle reminder of the joy that is found during this time. There is hope!!!! Thanks for these beautiful words.
These are the words we need today and forever! Thank you for sharing this today, especially with it being Palm Sunday. It rang like a hymn in my head!
“A streetside elegy in C”
Our quintet gathers
on respective curbs
(More than six feet apart:
This distance is not mandated,
This distance is neighborly love,
This distance is
paradoxically
infuriatingly
against the status quo.
This distance is avant garde.)
Neighbors converse
Two octaves
cleaved together
cleaved apart
We are whole C notes
They are whole C notes
No notes between
We create dissonance
We create consonance
Once in a while
A car a cyclist a walker
Will interject an E or a G
A momentary
chord is struck
An interrupted cadence
head-nods smiles hello’s
Laura, I love how this is both strongly visual and aural. A streetside gathering in viral times…brilliant! The distance and yet a harmonious image …with an interjection of “a car a cyclist a walker” the strikes a new, momentary sound in this musical moment. Quite fascinating! It brings to mind the image of crows on power lines creating the visual image on notes on a staff… what a cool poem! Thank you for sharing this artful piece. Susie
Laura, what a beautiful poem. I so appreciate the word choice and how they connect so well with music. I feel the tension throughout the poem especially with the words dissonance, cleaved, and interrupted. The imagery is so striking that I am able to visualize this scene quite well.
Laura, right in that last stanza, you bring things together in a powerful pair of lines
A momentary
chord is struck
Moments like this that help us cope with the dissonance! Thanks for sharing.
I love street music. I love the movie you’ve created here.
nice job Lou, your lines sound musical, like the interplay of music notes with moments among neighbors – Mom
Since this prompt is about music, I thought I’d post a little playful tune I posted (my first ever) to YouTube earlier the other day. I took liberties with Willie Nelson’s song, made famous by Patsy Cline. Have fun! 🙂 Susie
https://youtu.be/z8uNkvX6QMQ
Appppppllllllaaaaauuuuuuussssseeeee! You can bet surely I’m
Worried….. wonderin’
Where will
My next TP roll come from? Fun and upbeat, and your talent shines through clearly! Thanks for sharing.
Susie—so multi-talented! Little did we know that a troubadour lurked in our midst!!
Susie, Susie, Susie!! I absolutely love you for singing to us today! OMG, you’re so comical in those lyrics! TP and all! The cooties had me cracking up. I just love it and love you, you and your bold poetic/musical self!
Thank you so much. I loved seeing you in person and hearing your voice. You are so gifted…poetry, song, guitar, spirit-lifting!
Aw, thanks, Sarah. The music prompt was so up my alley …. I love a chance to use it to put me in a good place. You know those things that take us away… for me it’s writing, singing/playing, cooking, gardening…. instantly redirects my head. Music and writing are the most powerful. Fun to share. Susie
Loved it< I smiled the entire song!!!
Your use of musical phases to portray the interaction of neighbors and friends in this trying time was refreshing. It shows that we can be very creative when necessary. I could envision you and your neighbors conversing in the sunshine on your block while maintaining social distance. Good job!
DAMN girl! You are brilliant. Love your lyrics, your voice, your guitaring, your bookshelves. This is the perfect “music poetry” post!
Oh, my, this is so fun! Your voice was comforting and sweet, and bluesy, as it needed to be. Your lyrics are so matter-of-fact and true!
“I know you brought the cooties to my door,
Now I’m crazy quarantining for two whole weeks more.”
“Wondering where will my next TP roll come from”
Thanks for the smile!
A Religious Experience
Do you ever wonder why congregations sing?
Why even the most devout have a moment
Of infatuation – an existential crisis of sorts
– In the pit of a Sunday sermon?
My god, I am certain that even the most
Ardent skeptic could turn to the almighty
In the shoulder-to-shoulder GA parish,
In the audience to a midnight worship.
When was the last time you felt God’s presence?
Stood face-to-face with the king-of-kings
Competing with the holy vibrations of industrial
Subwoofers and amps – a steeple for all and one
I am convinced that God is a bass drop.
The first wave of a monumental night
Baptizing the flock of sinners before it,
Washing away the dirt of a religious experience.
YES! I love: “I am convinced that God is a bass drop.” The strongest religious experiences for me always come through music. Thanks for sharing!
Yes, Abigail! I love this analogy. The line “In the shoulder-to-shoulder GA parish” was perfect. I miss concerts a lot right now, so this definitely brought me joy to read. Awesome metaphors.
Abigail, I am so glad I paused upon your poem tonight. This is utterly lovely.
“in the pit of a Sunday sermon” told me “pay attention; this is a poem happening…”
Next, I recognized myself as the “ardent skeptic”
Then this:
“Stood face-to-face with the king-of-kings
Competing with the holy vibrations of industrial
Subwoofers and amps”
At this point, I signed on the dotted line. Sold.
I’ll Take the Birds
You had me reelin’
in a whirlin’ do-si-do
swayin’ o’er the hot coals
and thru “I told ya so,”
promises that cradled,
rockin’ to ‘n’ fro,
but slyly back with that refrain:
I love ya, don’t ya know.
For years and fears
that rose ‘n’ fell,
a rondo’s replayed moment,
winding back, another track
familiar cleaves and splintered cracks
in slick glissando
‘tween chords you slid;
I felt the tone fall flat.
Now I find the music rise
in carolina wrens
and mockingbirds
and chickadees
that jabber on the fence
in a cappella honesty, a clean unfettered fuss,
songs to carry truth,
songs that I can trust.
by Susie Morice©
Susie, I’m naturally drawn to these lines, since I’ve lived them too:
familiar cleaves and splintered cracks
in slick glissando
‘tween chords you slid;
I felt the tone fall flat.
And those birds that now sing definitely do so more sweetly – I am
In awe of how you crafted this so authentically – the changing of the music – from what fell
flat to what is clear and true and refreshing. Your analogies are 100 percent on point! Love the unfettered fuss!
Susie, I was trying to write a poem today about my father dancing with me when I was a campfire girl and there was a father/daughter dance. Your poem’s descriptive lines resonated powerfully for me. You truly create the feeling a square dance inspires, and the way you end by connecting these sounds with birds at the end is truly genius. Not only have you created an amazing rhythm but an abundance of sound, too, through your clever use of words and poetic structure. I’m deeply touched and impressed by your poem. Brilliant!
Susie—I was ready to get up and dance a reel along with your poem. Love the cadence and the irony. A true country masterpiece.
Susie, this is a very poignant poem. These are clever and sad musical words “‘tween chords you slid;/I felt the tone fall flat,” making such an honest point about the end of a relationship. Nature wins! Yes! We can rely on birds for “songs to carry truth/songs that I can trust.” Fabulous!
*I hope this is not considered plagiarism. I would definitely be breaking my own rules. I’ve written the names below. Not sure about title.
The song is a time machine
Transports you to
A feeling
A year
An age
A person
Nostalgic lyrics
Finding songs to match your mood
Fighting sleep with rhythmic tunes
The sounds that assault your eyes
Allow you to travel back in time
The song is a mile stone
Moment of conception
Every special occasion
Every ordinary day
After heartbreak
You wedding DJ
Every road trip, long drive
These moments continue
The roles have just changed
The verses stay the same
Songs played back in the day
You still appreciate
Until your death day
Your loved ones will share a song
Which one will they play?
The song is a “Wild World”
The song is a life line
Does the music ruin the kids?
Is this music a bad influence?
Does it keep you alive?
Beats that give you breath
Beats that pump your heart
Cathartic compositions
To get you through the night
The song is “A Real Hero”
The song is (not a) “Demon”
“Your eyes, they shine so bright
I want to save their light
I can’t escape this now
Unless you show me how”
Totally meta-verse
You know this can be
a description of music, right?
The song is sanity
Thoughts
So many overwhelming thoughts
Music offers an escape
Lose yourself in the beat drop
Listen to
“I get overwhelmed”
and
“Blue Trash Mattress Fire”
and
“You try to tell her what to do
And all she does is stare at you
Her stare is louder than your voice
Because truth doesn’t make a noise”
Truth = Sanity
Sanity = Song
Song = Her
Her = Truth
Soothing, Sound, Song
*”Wild World” by Cat Stevens
*A Real Hero” by College & Electric Youth
*”Demons” by Imagine Dragons
*”I Get Overwhelmed” by Dark Rooms
*”Blue Trash Mattress Fire” by Sleigh Bells
*”Truth Doesn’t Make a Noise” by The White Stripes
Ah! Too many errors. Sorry. It’s midnight and I’ve been working on this too long.
Angie, I like the way that this poem is a type of playlist. Your internalization of the songs and the structure of the poem creates a conversation between and within the songs. Also, a fun way to learn about new music, or be introduced to old favorites (Sleigh Bells!)!
Beautiful! I love: “The sounds that assault your eyes / allow you to travel back in time.” Then all of the moments (heartbreak, wedding DJ, road trips, etc.) Made me think of all the landmark songs in my own life. Music is so powerful!
Stacey,
“Harp song to my pain”
I found myself bouncing my head along as I read your poem this morning. I absolutely love that it brings out a flow as I read and I lost myself in some of the lines and had to reread! This line really resonated with me today for many reasons. Thank you for this beautiful gift and for inviting me to participate in these challenges!
Thank you Emily! It’s an honor to write along with you and all the other teacher/poets. I am grateful you’re here.
?
It usually happens when I’m alone
doing something mundane
maybe dishes, maybe driving
or when looking out the window at nothing
or when writing a poem
Scritch, scratch – my pen glides along
but with each verse, my mind fogs
the edges blurring
Soon I’m standing behind my own
slumped shoulders
looking, watching
An out of body experience
Awareness that I’m just one being
a writer right now
Awareness that in the next house
perhaps a man drinking coffee
and in the next, a child dancing
Awareness that each one of us
with seemingly no connection
are actually bound
a quilt of humanity
being built stitch by stich
with acceptance and empathy
Something profoundly beautiful
I blink twice
My slumped shoulders are
bent over the page
No more fuzzy edges, only clarity
and from my pen
scritch scratches
Ohhhhh my goodness, is this the most glorious poem. I absolutely adore the way it honors us as writers, struggling to compose, while also recognizing the awareness we all seek for connectedness and compassion.
What if this is the meaning of it all when it’s said and done:
“a quilt of humanity
being built stitch by stich
with acceptance and empathy
Something profoundly beautiful”
Inhaling the moment, exhaling the opportunities that lie ahead.
The scritch scratches remind me of a record reaching its end, the needle knocking against the center – its own musical sound. There’s something powerful and gentle in the awareness of others living their own lives contrasting with the connection of our “quilt of humanity” built in stitches.
Oh, Emily — This is a lovely piece! I love the “out of body” sense that you are seeing the others, house by house, being a part of the one human quilt. Marvelous image! And in two blinks you find clarity. It’s the magic of writing! I’m amazed how words pulled out of seeming nowhere can shape an entire sense of things… a whole world image! Very cool! Thank you! Susie
Emily, I enjoyed the subtlety of your musical language. I hear “scritch, scratch” as the needle on a record player providing us with sounds that, like yarn, stitch us together even when we’re not sharing space. I see the repetition of “awareness” as musicians improvising; they show awareness yet live in themselves and their instruments separately.
Emily, don’t you just love the moments when
the pen leads and we follow? This is a perfect description of how the writer within emerges and takes over! Wonderful!
“Club Quarantine”
During the pandemic,
Party people quarantine, so
The Virtual audience gathers
Round their screens
Ready to swoon
To synthesized beats with
DJ, producer, rapper
@DNice who spins, scratches,
Sways away 9-5 worries
Left up on the shelf.
In Club Quarantine
All are welcome,
There’s no bouncer,
No celebrity list. This is where
Floating rainbow hearts
Ascend to the ceiling while
Dancing, smiling, clapping emojis
In a crowd sourced chorus cheer
Ashford and Simpson tribute vocals
And lean on Bill Withers’ harmonies.
In this Instagram arena,
Coast-to-coast fans gather
Amid the chorus of 50,000.
“We in here”
“Dope Hoodie”
“got my merch”
Feedback loops scroll
Through the crowd as
A Chaka riff crescendos, and
We call on our music man to spin tunes.
“Welcome, welcome to Club Quarantine,”
“What’s up, Meagan39?”
“Let’s get it,”
On our virtual dance floors
We’re hooked, the next song
Begins to spin, and
@DNice raises a glass of
Red red wine to his lips,
A toast that says,
“We got this.”
—Glenda Funk
I needed a positive spin today. I raise a toast to you, Glenda!
Glendaaaaa!! I was all up in that party yesterday! LOL! You have hit this nail on the head; popped the cork on the champagne; pumped up the volume; ALL THAT!
I danced so much yesterday after my late afternoon shower that I had to shower all over again.
Okay, now that you’ve captured every moment of my yesterday, let me share what I love about your poem today.
(Finally, all are welcome! Imagine that many of us are dancing off beat and in our pjs!)
In Club Quarantine
All are welcome,
There’s no bouncer,
No celebrity list. This is where
Floating rainbow hearts
Ascend to the ceiling
(When I see the comments, I wonder if anyone cares. Then I realize we all care, that’s why we’re there!)
“We in here”
“Dope Hoodie”
“got my merch”
(And his hoodies are definitely dope!)
So much fun. If anyone needs a soul charge and likes to dance, join DNice live on Instagram when he’s broadcasting for Club Quarantine. I got some extra steps in yesterday for sure.
Love love love this Glenda! ❤️❤️❤️
I want that hoodie, but I don’t want to jinx it as a cool thing. That happens when old white people start wearing things designed for a younger, more hip demographic. And it’s $75.00. Is that a good use of my stimulus $?
Glenda — you are really funny. Susie
I am dying over here with you and your jokes! Get that hoodie, honey! Wear it with pride! ?
Glenda — a party indeed! The musical tidbits “riffing” through this whole piece are delightful. I really like the whole notion of a Club Quarantine… genius idea! And “no bouncer” makes it that wonderful no holds barred wild thang. I laughed especially as I was so in this scene all morning… I was listening to all sorts of posted singing and guitar picking’… around the globe…. totally connected in a human enterprise of gathering to get through this. The “floating rainbow hearts” were totally fascinating to me this morning, as I kept hitting the heart icon for some dude playing and singing in New Zealand where he was quarantined and wanting to get back to WYO. Instead, there with two bottles of wine, a guitar, and his iPhone, recording with his sweetie who had a glorious harmonizing voice. Your poem and all the music is getting me through! Thank you! Susie
Glenda–thanks for creating such a lively and dynamic space. I like the way you layer your words with those from commenters; this creates a sense that we might actual be in a physical club. And these days, any semblance of a crowded space feels comforting–even for an introvert!
Glenda, thanks for getting the #clubquarantine party started! You wove in Withers with the understood notion that we are all leaning on each other. Yes, this calls for a toast but I also see t-shirts with our club name. Club quarantine – where pens dance to the music! Thank you for that fabulous virtual outing.
Glenda, a poem of celebration! Yay, club quarantine, and its ability to get us all “on our virtual dance floors/we’re hooked, the next song.” I love that we are left feeling “We got this.” You had so many great musical words woven throughout this poem – very, very clever! I am smiling at this!
Glenda! You need to send this to Susie to record and then it will go viral. I just can’t it’s so good!
You captured DNice’s party with the perfect descriptive unifying language that uplifts those of us that party with him all while giving him the respect and praise he deserves!
Songs Soothe and Help Us Cruise
Songs of praise help me get through the days
Hymns to Him remind me of ways
He helps me get out, but not out and about
During forced days of inside stays.
Rhythm and blues when I hear the news
I reach for my running shoes.
Discordant news pulse within. I just want to jump and shout
Please just let me get up and get out.
Hallujujah’s resound; so often out of tune.
While riding my indoor cycle, listening to YouTube, I croon.
Oh no! Another family member has died!
Not dirges this time; compassion accompanied me as I cried.
I rocked and swayed in my seat, reading another sympathy card.
“May melodies and memories remind you of our family’s regard.”
Folks may be dying all around, but flowers burst forth in the yard.
Jazz riffs in these poems, within the beat
Of the daily given challenge, be-bop along and are neat.
Each writer saying what’s in the heart
Resolved to keep on living, giving each day a fresh new start.
Cheery notes from friends help us stay afloat
In these strident times, we’re not alone in the boat.
I really appreciate how you used different types of music to reflect the moods – hymns of praise to get through, blues for the discordant news – and how you incorporated the sounds of today – the dirges and riffs. Love those last two lines. These poems feel like notes from friends helping us know we aren’t alone. Thanks for that celebration!
Anna, I love your gift of music for every occasion – for all the moods, all the news, all the exercise and other activities. I enjoy your rhyme scheme and the concept of not being alone in the boat.
Music is an integral part of how we process life’s changes and challenges.
dad
sometimes symphonies
remain unfinished
a long, long time ago
he was 43 years old
the devil’s only friend
the day the music died
he was singing
bye bye
too many kids to feed
too many emotions to weed
bye bye cigarettes
bye bye vodka
before they married
his widowed bride
was blind to
all the minor keys
in which he played
his childhood
a telling overture of the whole
rhythm and blues opera
what would an
abusive alcoholic’s
magnum opus
be anyway
maybe it was the
seven kids lost in space
trying not to misstep
bad news on the doorstep
they turned out nice
not into vice
stayed out of jail
tried not to fail
cute at all costs
not too many lost
to dysfunction with alcohol
one
when promoted to chp captain
asked mom
watched him on the stage
hands clenched in fists of rage
do you think dad would be proud yet
This is amazing!! You told this wonderful, difficult story and interwove One of my favorites. I Sang all through your poem. And the ending—“watched him on the stage/hands clenched in fists of rage/do you think dad would be proud yet”. Boom. I am awestruck…
Inspired by Don McLean’s Bye, Bye Miss American Pie
Denise,
“American Pie” is one of my favorite songs. I remember the first time I heard it on my transistor radio “a long, long, time ago.” I love the way you we’ve lyrics from the song into this poem about your father. The song embodies the life of rock music into the 1970s, so it really is fitting as a parallel to a life. Thank you.
—glenda
I had to read this poem more than a few times! Each time I fall in love with a different line. My current favorite is the “bye, bye” stanza. I definitely heard the notes from Bye Bye Miss American Pie! Thank you for sharing this gift.
Denise — You have laid out a really complicated and intimate piece of life here. I really respect that. I love that it was inspired by such an iconic and sad song…one with words we all know so well… so fitting as we share the hope that a parent would finally “be proud” … fitting as we wade through dysfunction born of alcohol. I particularly liked that you saw this as an “unfinished symphony”… that alone is our storied lives… none of us are finished playing it out ….at least not today. Stay healthy. Stay strong. Susie
Denise, your perspective on this “unfinished symphony” is nothing short of mature perception with the ability to see things from
others’ vantage points. Your courage to go into some dark places and share with readers helps us see that it’s not all about the hand life deals to us, but all about how we play it and respond to it. Thank you for sharing this!
Denise, I am so deeply awed by your poem. I am especially impressed with how you take such a painful and experience and interweave lyrics that work so well to share this story. Thanks so much for sharing.
Absolutely unbelievable! The way you used your words to tell this story had me anticipating what was going to come net. Thank you!
Denise, amazing poem. I love how you tell a story, adding music terms throughout.
My favorite lines are “sometimes symphonies remain unfinished” and
“his widowed bride
was blind to
all the minor keys
in which he played”
Didn’t catch the allusion to the song until I read the comments, but I love it even more now. And what a powerful last line to end. Thank you for sharing!
“Dance Me to the End of Love” by Leonard Cohen
Watch the video of the song here…
https://youtu.be/NGorjBVag0I
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Lift me like an olive branch and be my homeward dove
I am afraid. Hold me.
The world’s crescendo grows too loud.
Dance me to the end of love.
Oh, let me see your beauty when the witnesses are gone
Let me feel you moving like they do in Babylon
Show me slowly what I only know the limits of
Our love, our life has matured into adagio
Slower, quieter—an empty nest holds no witnesses
The cats don’t care. And Babylon is still there.
Dance me to the end of love.
Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Da capo—“begin again”—would I?
Absolutely. Even through the dissonant chords.
(And there were more than a few)
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to the children who are asking to be born
Dance me through the curtains that our kisses have outworn
Raise a tent of shelter now, though every thread is torn
Pizzicato—“plucked”—They asked to be born,
were seldom in unison, and harmony was a dream.
They filled us up, and they dance on their own—
a Baraat for the eldest; blues and hard rock for the others.
Our tent is still strong enough for all of us, filled with love and chaos.
All of us played in different keys.
Dance me to the end of love
Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin
Dance me through the panic till I’m gathered safely in
Touch me with your naked hand or touch me with your glove
Touch me. Our tango makes me whole.
Dance me to the end of love
Gayle,
Love this dance. I was moving with you through each stanza. And I love how Stacey encouraged us to look at musical terminology to write these poems because at first I felt like an imposter using the discourse but now I feel like an insider because I knew what you meant here:
Dance me to the wedding now, dance me on and on
Dance me very tenderly and dance me very long
We’re both of us beneath our love, we’re both of us above
Da capo—“begin again”—would I?
The “da capo” means to go back to the beginning, which you define for us within context, but I also used this term in my poem. This is so cool.
Sarah
This prompt really took me down the rabbit hole of research—first to the music vocabulary, then to the song itself. Here is what Cohen said about the origin of the song:
“It was supposed to be a song about Berlin. I had a lot of verses about Berlin, I was trying to get a song about the origins of evil but it wouldn’t fit in. I realized it was a love song or a wedding song but the really depressing part about this true tale is that I learned at the concentration camps there was a custom of taking musicians among the inmates and having them play little string quartets while they did their killing work. So the song could be like a prayer or a love song, it’s “Dance me to your beauty with a burning violin.” With that idea, the song takes on another angle.”
Leonard Cohen (940)
Good morning Gayle,
I enjoyed this video and the lyrics are sexy and gorgeous. Today, I want to be “danced through the panic until I’m safely gathered in…”
Love your choice today!
Da capo—“begin again”—would I?
Absolutely. Even through the dissonant chords.
What a clever connection!
This is perfect!
“Pizzicato—“plucked”—They asked to be born,
were seldom in unison, and harmony was a dream.
They filled us up, and they dance on their own—”
Gayle, thanks for sharing the music. I listened to it while I read. I also loved reading the history you shared about the song. It made it that much more meaningful. I like how you interspersed your lines with Cohen’s. My favorite:
“Da capo—“begin again”—would I?
Absolutely. Even through the dissonant chords.
(And there were more than a few)”
and the different dances of your children, yet all able to fit in your tent of love and chaos, even if playing in different keys. Beautiful!
ready, set, run
airbuds, forte in my ear
legs in adagio
Ain’t Nothin But a Gangsta Party
beats shuffle my arms forward
shoulders pop with caprice to a
Bidi Bidi, Zoom, or Waka
andante sways my core into cadence
Won’t Back Down
humidity pulling my hydration out
Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger
the rhythm near my drums
builds a tempo in my stride
Blinding Lights
on the Otherside
an ensemble of emotions and goals
sweat with every roll of the heel
the longer I pace with the lyrics
the deeper my thoughts pitch away
from the mad, Mad World
escapism through a runner’s high
even when my feet feel like
Titanium…I Run the World
Stefani,
I am now remembering another poem you wrote about running a month or so ago — yes? I love how we get to know one another through our verse. This poem is so great. I am running along with you (though I am sure I couldn’t keep up). It is like a virtual workout for me but with a great soundtrack. Love the song choices.
escapism through a runner’s high
even when my feet feel like
Titanium…I Run the World
Perfect pun in the final words! Clever!
Sarah
Hi Stefani,
This is almost making me want to be a runner. I ran with you this morning, in my head. I heard it and felt it:
Ain’t Nothin But a Gangsta Party
beats shuffle my arms forward
shoulders pop with caprice to a
Bidi Bidi, Zoom, or Waka
I love that you are able to run and feel the “escapism through a runner’s high” because it’s a great stress reliever I’m sure. I walk, sometimes kind of fast, LOL, and feel so much better too. Those Titanium feet, wow.
?
Stefani, impressive use of dichotomy here:
andante sways my core into cadence
Won’t Back Down
Andante leading to courageous stand! Wow!
Stefani, I love how you played with the new musical vocabulary. The rhythm and musicality of your poem is heard through the beautiful use of the words. This is so fun to read aloud:
“shoulders pop with caprice to a
Bidi Bidi, Zoom, or Waka” and “andante sways my core into cadence”
Your running is the symphony for today.
“I Run the World,” to be sure.
Stefani, I’m loving your stride in words and gait! I haven’t run in months, and I miss it so. My favorite on the running playlist was ELO’s Mr. Blue Sky, which I’d time for the beginning and the end of a 5 or 10k just to get me over the line. You inspire me to want to get those shoes back out!
I felt as though I was running with you. Love all the song references and the fast beat. Now I need to stop for a breath.
Stefani,
This poem made me want to get out and move. The allusions you make to popular workout songs make this a very fun poem. I wish I were a runner, but dancing will have to do for now!
Stephani, what a fun and upbeat poem you provided us. I felt the tempo of each passing song as I read each line.
Thank you for this share,
Jess
I love how you connect music to running. Music and exercise help me get out of my own head…especially right now. Thank you for sharing.
In a song, we walk, andante, along
a path paved with gravel, sneakers
stride, slip, hop puddles in harmony–
sisters sharing ballads of the past.
In a song, we make love, a symphony
in movement, accelerando and adagio,
finding a common key accepting atonality,
embracing humoresque, for a harmonic finale.
In a song, we soothe newborns
at our breasts, slow hymns
in a crib, undulating berceuse,
lullabies, the maestro in self-soothing.
In a song, we drive kids to college
the prelude to a family cantata
as youth solo voices soar without
chorus or choir and parents Da Capo.
In a song, we hear life’s coda
when the end is approaching
and we sit, ensemble, bedside loves
stroking a cheek, whispering an elegy.
* I am not a musician, so I am not sure if I used these terms accurately, but it was a great vocabulary lesson: https://www.classicfm.com/discover-music/musical-terms/
Sarah, the way you walk us through life in music – – childhood, getting married, going off to college, soothing infants, saying goodbye at the end – – from ballads to harmonies, lullabies, and more intimate ensembles whispering elegies…..wow! The imagery moves from lilting happiness with sisters walking down a path all the way to the quiet sadness of dying, and includes every stage in between. I love all that you show us about music!
I really like the phrase, “life’s coda” after the preceeding stanzas. Oh, I didn’t know I’d hear the music so quickly. I want to go back to some of these times, stroke a cheek and whisper songs. Lovely, lovely poem.
Sarah,
I love your lines “sharing ballads of the past” and “we hear life’s coda”–this poem is a ballad of life. Thank you for this!
Those last lines carry it all… “Stroking a cheek, whispering an elegy” A friend died of ALS last night.
Gayle,
My condolences. My mother-in-law died of ALS, we cared for her in the last two years of her life. It is a brutal disease.
Peace,
Sarah
Sarah,
Yay! I totally agree with you on how this felt a bit forced until it suddenly became the song or the music or the lyrics we needed to write! I absolutely adore your poem. The repetition “In a song…” to show us all the ways song loves us.
My sister and I are right here in these lines:
stride, slip, hop puddles in harmony–
sisters sharing ballads of the past.
My imaginary lovers in poetry I write are here:
we make love, a symphony
in movement, accelerando and adagio
Lord knows I sang many a lullabies and thank goodness my lack of musical talent didn’t ruin them for life.
The final lines took me back to my mom’s bedside before she passed away.
and we sit, ensemble, bedside loves
stroking a cheek, whispering an elegy.
Thank you so much for this lovely melodic poem for all the loves we share in song.
Stacey,
I just love how all of our poems are united through language. This is such a brilliant idea for writing today!
Sarah
I’m not a musician either, so I can’t respond to whether or not your used them accurately, but like anyone playing with language, so be it. Brava for your effective use of the musical words to paint the story of life. I imagine it is something you have not likely done before Stacey offered this challenge. What a fun and whimsical way to describe the stages of life. Here are a few of my favorite lines–
“a path paved with gravel, sneakers / stride, slip, hop puddles in harmony”
“In a song, we soothe newborns / at our breasts, slow hymns”
and the beauty at the end of life “stroking a cheek, whispering an elegy”
Nicely done!
Your use of “in a song” repeated in each stanza is effective. All the stages of our lives we hear songs.
I love this Sarah.
The way each stanza begins with “in a song” really works…all the different life circumstances.
And I don’t know music either, but, like you, I learned a lot. I think you laced the words through perfectly.
I love stanzas 4 and 5 the most. I really wanted to add the power of a lullaby by a parent, but you do it so beautifully. Love the image in stanza 5 🙂 Singing in the car! Reminds me of scenes in movies when families start singing (Step Brothers hahaha). I love “whispering an elegy” as well. Lovely.
Sarah, what a beautiful poem about the interactions brought with music. So many blessings can be associated with music and that’s what your poem reminded me of.
Thank you for your share,
Jess
Stacey,
your word choices are gorgeous in this verse – – orchestral, harmonious, wispy, lyrical, rhythmic reverie…….I could go on and on, but it feels so much like the carefree sense of drifting in a raft rocked by gentle waves. When you got to sinking sand, I heard a hymn with that line so clearly. Thank you for helping us to get lost in the music today. It’s a happy place during times of quarantine.
Thank you Kim. Crazy how the prompt was written before the crisis. God knew. We didn’t. Thankful for today’s poems also because they’re giving me such peace and joy. Thank you for joining me.
???
Stacey’s use of requiem caused me to explore the idea of a musical setting for the dead. What would that sound like? Feel like? I invite you to listen to the music that inspired this morning’s composition here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dlr90NLDp-0
Requiem Mass
In this cathedral of our world,
we honor the dead.
The relentless waves have stilled,
a retreat on bended knee,
a threnody.
We no longer need their crashing beat.
The winds come to final rest,
harboring inside organ pipes
a lament.
We hear no more their measured breath.
The earth’s hum has paused,
its ancient choir silenced,
an elegy.
Its voice sounds no more for us.
The fires doused and extinguished,
a dissipation of the dying,
a funereal hymn.
We heap all on its pyre.
Our voices chant.
Dies Irie
Echoes of the haunting.
Dies Irie
Our voices expand
Dies Irie
Our own dirge.
Oh, my goodness…what an incredible exploration of what sound would be like for the dead. The language ushers us into this place of different existence. I love the words I had to look up! threnody–beautiful, Dies Irie–such an impactful use of repetition here. Bravo. What a beautiful response to Stacy’s prompt.
Jennifer,
I am sitting with this idea of our world as a cathedral. The woods beyond my window a pew to kneel. And I am sitting with this idea of honoring the dead — the winds, the organ pipes. This is a powerful extended metaphor. Thank you for bringing me into this imagery.
Peace,
Sarah
Jennifer, what a beautiful perspective from the departed. I love the chant – – not one voice, but many voices, reassuring the souls are not alone. This line resonates most with me…..the winds I think of here as breath, the strains of music symbolically quelling in the pipe organs.
The winds come to final rest,
harboring inside organ pipes
a lament.
thought provoking, and thank you for sharing the music.
Jennifer, as a Protestant, I’ve experienced few Cathollic services, but your poem evokes them well. I hear the pipe organ music swell and soothe the hearts of those celebrating the life of one who has died. The dirges don’t seem sad in your poem; not glad, but comforting. Thanks.
Hi Jennifer,
The music in your link was playing in the background as I read your poem. This is so powerful.
“The earth’s hum has paused,
its ancient choir silenced,
an elegy.”
Brought tears to my eyes, a mourning to my soul.
“Echoes of the haunting…”
Chilling and real. Thank you. This is deeeeep!!!
Jennifer, you have taught me a lot of new words in your poem–threnody, funereal, Dies Irie. Listening to the Gregorian chant in the background while I read was so peaceful and calming, and fit perfectly with your words. Music silenced, doused, extinguished would be a Dies Irie.
Jennifer,
The elegiac, mournful tone hits home as I contemplate those whose voices we no longer hear in our “cathedral of our world.” We are living in a time of lamentation. Stay well. Thank you.
—glenda
Wow! What a beautiful, yet haunting poem. I love how you give the dead a language unknown to the living. You make it seem as though you’ve experienced it though…and it feels so appropriate. I listened to the song as I read and it was such an awesome experience. The repetition of “Dies Irie” at the end is especially powerful.
Jennifer,
You have offered a wonderful poem with a perfect flow. The exploration of the dead in your poem and all the qualities that come with it brings a very powerful yet eerie tone.
Thank you for your share,
Jess
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLH49g_aQV0
Miriam
she comes to us when we least expect it
hawks on a wire
redbirds at the feeder
wild turkeys in the yard
beeping seatbelt reminders
we were munching on popcorn
slurping cherry Icees
cocooned in our movie blankets
watching Emma
my Ansley and I
when those beloved lyrics
invoked her unticketed presence
perched right between us
arms around our shoulders
How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord
is laid for your faith in His excellent word
a congregational hymn at her funeral
her unwavering message to all of us
mother-daughter movies
popcorn and Icees
hymns that leave no questions
she comes to us when we least expect it
Perched right between us – a soft nod to the hawks and redbirds present at the onset of your piece as well as the image of the cardinal representing those passed. Congegational hymn lays the firm foundation for the hymns that leave no questions. What a beautiful honor to your Miriam. This idea that she comes when you least expect it connects to all of us in those reminders we have that pop into our lives. This is beautifully done.
Thank you, Jennifer. Here’s an untold part of my writing this morning: as I was just about to submit, something caught my eye. A lone wild turkey was sprinting across my front yard……as if to say, “Hey, you forgot about when I show up this way!” I went back and added the turkey line. Just another Miriam visit…..
Kim,
This first stanza feels like my back yard
hawks on a wire
redbirds at the feeder
wild turkeys in the yard
And then these images in nature you juxtapose with humans at their “feeder”
we were munching on popcorn
slurping cherry Icees
cocooned in our movie blankets
watching Emma
my Ansley and I
Love the sweet image of “Ansley and I” cocooned!
Sarah
Kim, I needed a smile and your lines do it for me literally and metaphorically, reminding me of the strutting of the wild turkeys across my yard, that life goes on and we’ll be fine if we keep our seatbelts on and stay at home. Thankfully, it’s sunshiny, and nearly warm today, so we may be able to get out and strut our stuff today, too.
wild turkeys in the yard
beeping seatbelt reminders
Kim,
“She comes when we least expect it…”
I am in tears. I am sitting in the backyard and listening to the song in the link. Birds (creatures I fear ?) continue to flit around. Then the butterfly, always my reminder of my loved ones gone but so near.
Then I hear in the song, “He will never leave, He will never forsake” Instantly, I feel safe in His arms.
I am wrapped up in the music as well as your poem. My daughter, hmmm, looking forward to the day when she wants to sit with me again, nice and close, for movies and popcorn.
Maybe she too will come to me when I least expect it.
Thank you for this sweet reminder today.
Oh, Kim, your lovely images and word choice. That right there is what I am falling in love with in this April challenge at Ethical ELA. You have told a story of a hymn that brought her as close as her arms around your shoulders. That’s what music does, doesn’t it? I like how you give examples of how she comes to you–“hawks on a wire
redbirds at the feeder
wild turkeys in the yard
beeping seatbelt reminders”
And then another way, in detail when you hear the powerful lines from the hymn in an unexpected place. She comes again.
The first and last lines tell so much. Beautifully done, Kim.
Kim,
I remember singing “How Firm a Foundation” as a young girl. It’s lovely how you weave the song lyrics into Miriam’s life, the intermingling of movies, popcorn, embraces, and faith. “Unticketed presence”: Fabulous phrase. You’ve prompted some memories of my own here. I think you know I don’t miss church, but I do miss the songs. Any time I hear a familiar one in a movie, television show, etc. I sing it, much to my husband’s shock. Thank you.
—Glenda
Stacy, I could feel this poem…I was in the ocean feeling the riff. I love the word and the idea of riff. Riffing on the music of the ocean is such a beautiful idea. My poem comes from a very deep emotional time. I used the Trimeric form. I really like how there is repetition…but not heavy repetition…just a hint.
The form is a 12 line poem:
stanza 1 = 4 lines
stanza 2 has 3 lines and begins with line 2 from first stanza
stanza 3 has 3 lines and begins with line 3 from first stanza
stanza 4 has 3 lines and begins with line 4 from first stanza
Music Therapy
When Mom lay still in a hospice bed
I called my oldest friend, a music therapist
I needed Mom’s hymns of comfort
With piano and voice my friend sent love
I called my oldest friend, a music therapist
Whom should I send?
Here I am Lord,
I needed Mom’s hymns of comfort
it is I Lord,
I have heard you calling in the night
With piano and voice my friend sent love
I will go Lord, where you lead me
I will hold your people in my heart
© Linda Mitchell 4/5/20 #verselove
Source: Musixmatch
Songwriters: Anna Laura Page / Daniel L. Schutte
Here I Am, Lord lyrics © Oregon Catholic Press
Linda, what a comforting way to ease your mother’s distress during her time of transition from this world to the best world. Your form is lovely on this – a trimeric. Those repeating lines emphasize and re-emphasize your loving care of your mother and spotlight the further details of each act of love. Blessings to you!
Linda, I really appreciate everything about your piece this morning – the introduction of trimeric form, the subtle repetitions in each stanza, the building of thought upon each stanza, the title, the use of lyrics, and most especially the line “hymns of comfort.” Thank you for sharing today.
Linda,
Love how this form set up a narrative snapshot and then illuminate each moment’s meaning more deeply . The last line is so lovely, a gentle yet powerful reminder that our loves are not lost: “I will hold your people in my heart.”
Sarah
Linda, your poem shares the medical mending of music, the healing power of hymns, but most important, the thoughtfulness of friends who share that music with us in times like these. Blessings to those friends.
Tears welled up. Such a love-filled musical tribute to your mom, your friend, and God.
Hi Linda,
Thank you and I am returning appreciation to YOU for sharing this form, Trimeric. I love it. I felt every line because I remember those details of my mom being in her hospice bed at home, all of us waiting for that peace to overcome her. Nothing is harder than watching our moms’ declining health, but the beauty is in watching their ascension into paradise.
I especially love:
I needed Mom’s hymns of comfort
it is I Lord,
I have heard you calling in the night
I know He hears our calls and our cries.
?
Linda, that is one of my favorite hymns. I love Daniel Schutte’s work. I’m learning new things every day–like this the trimeric form. You are right, there is nice repetition, but not too much. It’s subtle and emphasizes the important first stanza. It is a lovely poem about a difficult time. It brought me to my mom’s hospice bed ten years ago. This is beautiful — “With piano and voice my friend sent love”
Stacey, I love the rhythm of your 4 x 4 structure. I collected some musical terms, then looked up the lyrics to Tracy Chapman’s Heaven’s Here on Earth.
Searching for a Minuet
You can look to the sea
searching for the masters
following a raging water
out to the mystery.
We are collectors of our story
searching for legacy
hoping for tomorrow
to take us out of today.
I’ve seen long stretches of a river
searching for the sea
calling out a barcarolle
from banks of lighted fires.
There is faith in human kind
searching for significance
a crescendo to the heavens
in respect of dignity.
Margaret Simon, draft
Margaret, the line that resonates with me is “we are collectors of our story,” and then – where we all seem to be right now – “hoping for tomorrow to take us out of today.” There are no more sincere sentiments that those nine words right now. Beautiful!
collectors of our story
long stretches of a river/searching for the sea
crescendo to the heavens
I love the imagery in these lines, the sounds of them, the “crescendo to the heavens” you create.
Linda,
I keep rereading your last stanza, even alone it is powerful and brings such insight. Thank you for this poem today.
We are collectors of our story
searching for legacy
hoping for tomorrow
to take us out of today.
This reminds me of a mug I have on my desk—“We are all just stories in the end.” (A Doctor Who quote). It is all about the story of ourselves we leave behind, isn’t it? And our hope that it gets better.
Margaret, I’m not sure why, but these lines remind me of the Scripture, “If you seek Me, you will find Me.”
I’ve seen long stretches of a river
searching for the sea
calling out a barcarolle
from banks of lighted fires.
No matter where they start, waters from the rivers seem to eventually reach the sea! They may become the showers that nurture our crops, they may become clouds and rain on our parade; they may even harden into hailstones that shatter the windows of our cars, but ultimately the searches of the rivers end at the sea!
Margaret, thanks for explaining your process. I’m learning so much! This is lovely and gives me hope in this difficult time: “There is faith in human kind / searching for significance / a crescendo to the heavens…”
“We are collectors of our story”
That line really hit me right in the chest today. Thank you so much for sharing your poem. I love the nods to the rivers, water, ocean. It made the poem flow right out of my mouth as I read it.
Margaret,
You have written a beautiful piece that depicts a wonderful scene in nature, but even with a deeper meaning beneath it about humankind. This was a delight to read because it made me feel very calm and at ease.
Stacey,
The imagery in these lines..
Like lyrical letters written
In sinking sand beneath my feet
Wow, I am on a beach seeing a message sink into the wet sand, washed away by a current. The impermanence of it all!
Peace,
Sarah
Stacey, I love the use of language here, the language of music (harp song, orchestral poem), and I especially love “requiem for my soul” especially for a Sunday morning. There is movement in “staccato heart beats” and alliteration (lyrical letters) and gentleness in “wispy lullabies.”. We need these current chaotic syncopations to fade away! Someone had mentioned in Sarah’s summary that there were so many poems about sound during this time. This is the perfect opportunity to explore.
Jennifer, thank you! I am enjoying today’s poems so very much. I never would’ve imagined the various ways that our talented community of writers craft poems around music. It’s just amazing.
Stacey,
This prompt is absolutely perfect. I opened two tabs on my computer this morning. The first to sirius xm, the second to ethicalela to read today’s prompt. The music was already speaking to me, and this will be an amazing exploration.
Your poem is beautiful. I love the clash of peace and chaos throughout. I especially relate to the lines, “My staccato heart beats/ To find a safe space” especially during this time of uncertainty and great anxiety. I also love the yearning and the imploring. As if you are begging the music to provide all that you need in that moment. I just love it.
Hi Jennifer,
Thank you. Funny that a lot of my writing has conflict or clashing experiences. Hmmm. Wondering if that’s what my dear mother and I were. A clashing of experiences. Wow.
Thank you for taking time with me and my prompts. Today, everyone’s writing is teaching me, soothing me, and most of all encouraging me that we can get through these tough times.
?
Stacey,
The first sounds I notice in your poem are the various alliterative harmonies in each verse: “ rhythmic reverie,” “crying cadence,” “like lyrical letters,” “sinking sand,” “staccato, safe, space.” These create a lovely ebb and flow that replicate ocean sounds. The last two lines remind me of Homer’s plea to the muse to sing within him and inspire him: “Be my orchestral poem / A requiem for my soul.” I read this as a parallel to why we turn to music for comfort and inspiration so often in life. This is a peaceful, comforting poem. Thank you.
—glenda
Hi Glenda,
Thank you again for your supportive and encouraging commentary. I totally agree, we turn to music for comfort and inspiration, now is a critical time to turn in and turn it up! I am going to cherish your DNice poem for a LONG time! You rock!