[Martin Elster]

I don't know if this is a music poem or a planet poem.

The Distant Moon

A boy named Stan goes to a restaurant
accompanied by Stephanie, his aunt
**at noon the twelfth of June.
Stan has salad, soup, and broiled fish;
aunt Stephanie has rice and a side dish
**of beans. They hear a tune

played on a baby grand: it’s “Clair de Lune.”
The restaurant is called “The Distant Moon.”
**They think something is queer
about the place. Their lunch is quite delicious,
yet there is something here that seems fictitious.
**There is no atmosphere.

[F.F. Teague]

It appears to be both; excellent :-)

Clair de Lune was one of my favourite piano pieces to play. For some reason, the moon turned up in another of the prelude poems. It was workshopped on Poets' Graves; many changes were suggested, until people decided they preferred the original after all, lol.


Swirls

That evening, as a full moon rose,
she played their piano for a while –
a tune of subtle swirls and slows –
and he, though ill, began to smile.

She played their piano for a while;
the scent of night-stock wafted in
and he, though ill, began to smile –
an owl outside performed a spin.

The scent of night-stock wafted in
with memories of kinder years;
an owl outside performed a spin;
the sounds were pleasing to his ears.

With memories of kinder years,
a tune of subtle swirls and slows;
the sounds were pleasing to his ears
that evening, as a full moon rose.

[Martin Elster]

That's a fine pantoum, Fliss.

Discovery Concert

HSO, January 16, 2007, 10:30 a.m. at Bethel AME, Bloomfield, CT.

Bright colors, green and blue and red, like stars
in space fly to their eyes from the stained glass
***while the children listen to
the symphony as sweet as candy bars
and bitter as oppression. Woodwinds, brass,
***percussion, strings speak through

the atmosphere of this small church today
commemorating Martin Luther King,
***whose message still rings true
despite the fact mankind has a long way
to go before that dream’s what all folks sing.
***Like an island that’s in view

a good ways off (we all sit in the ship
that’s heading there), that vision features trees
***with fruits of every brand.
The journey will be quite a lengthy trip,
but not as hard as scaling hills on skis
***or tough as trying to land

on some distant planet circling Betelgeuse.
The children — skinny, fat, black, brown, and white —
***hear wild harmonious sounds
and know inside that, like these tones that fuse
and blend within their minds to cause delight,
***their dreams shall have no bounds.

[F.F. Teague]

Thanks, Martin; that one was fun to write :-)

I like 'Discovery Concert', especially for 'sweet as candy bars and bitter as oppression' and the variety of children. Is this the series?

I'll come up with something new soon; I've been jotting down ideas today and now I just need the time :-)

Best wishes,
Fliss

[Martin Elster]

Hi Fliss. Yes, that's the series. That concert was with our previous conductor, Edward Cumming. I look forward to seeing your new music-inspired poem (when you finish it).

[F.F. Teague]

Hi Martin,

Sorry; nothing new for this thread this evening. Work has been complicated today and I ran out of time. However, here's another sonnet inspired by a Debussy prelude. It needs work, but it could be worse, maybe, lol.


Bruyères

Returning to Bruyères in 1910,
00some years before the Second World War rout,
he brought his drafting book and fine-nib pen
00in hopes to overcome his writing drought –
and this he did, upon vivacious streets
00all flanked by merry red-roofed shops and homes,
and by the castle, where astounding feats
00had been performed, as told in tunes and tomes;
his Muse sang sweetest, though, in town surrounds,
00in mountain woods with sunlight through the pines,
the calls of birds and deer his favourite sounds,
00enticing as the region's finest wines –
and Sylvie there, a girl he used to know,
he'd loved her 'til her death, so long ago.

[F.F. Teague]

And now for something new.

I'll be posting this poem at Freshtival too, but here I'm including the music bit.


Trip 1 of 3

Enjoy this trip
Enjoy this trip
And it is a trip
Countdown is progressing

Uno dos
Uno, dos, tres, quatro

[Dag-a-dag-a-dag, dag-a-dag-a-dag!]

F'Express


The trolley-bed awaiting me is close yet miles away.
I start to rise, get on my feet. 'Come on, come on!' I say.
The spasms start again. I scream, I roar. The pain is wild.
I want my mum. I'm 41 and suddenly a child.
I grab the bed and sit. 'No, sweet. Get on it properly now.'
I try. I scream. They grab my leg. I cry, 'Ow-ow-ow-ow...'
'What's going on?' A voice outside the curtains, soft and clear.
'They're [sigh],' Bro. A. explains. Then something else I can't quite hear.
A yellow pipe appears. It smokes. 'Inhale, good girl,' says Chong.
I breathe in breathe out, play the pipe. My woodwind lungs are strong.
The nurses blur, the spasms shrink. The curtains sway and part.
Bro. A. and Tess are here. Tess holds her hand against her heart.
'Hey yous!' I say. They hold my feet. She's left and he is right.
They raise and shift. They watch my face. We're spinning through the night.
I start to sing, of Mol' Malone, fair Dublin, pretty girls,
the cockles, mussels turn and turn in rushing rainbow whirls.
Now Brother A. is saying, 'Partly Irish', to a nurse
and Chong has finished bandaging. 'Good! Now it won't get worse.'
The spinning's slowing. Brother A. and Tess have left the room.
My clothes come off and I'm re-dressed in square-print gown of gloom.
The pain again. My nails are knives. I stab my wrist, my palm.
I whimper. Teddy Teague appears. He whispers, 'Just keep calm.'
'To AMU!' says Chong. 'Good luck,' he adds and pats my hand.
We ride to station no. 2 in Gloucester Hospiland.

[F.F. Teague]

I haven't posted here for a while, but I have been considering something rather ambitious, inspired by Stravinsky's The Rite of Spring.

This is all Bernstein's fault, really. I watched this video of him conducting the orchestra and a few thoughts started to spark. I think it's the fastest speed I've ever heard the Rite being played 🥰

[Martin Elster]

Thanks for the link, Fliss, to that fantastic video. I've watched a lot of Bernstein performances, but I've never seen this one. It is, indeed, a fast tempo in many of the sections, especially the end of the first part, as well as the finale of the whole piece. But I love the way he stretches the tempo in the majestic brass and timpani fanfare that happens around halfway through the second part at the 26-minute mark. The most amazing thing is that Bernstein conducted the whole piece from memory (without a score).

[F.F. Teague]

You're welcome, Martin :-)

Yes, I was struck by the end of the first part too, I think particularly the trumpet cha-cha-cha-cha-cha-cha, if memory serves. The video isn't loading at the moment; I'll try again later so I can listen out for the fanfare you mention. Bernstein seems pretty awesome so I can well imagine him capable of conducting from memory!

I haven't got around to writing the Rite yet, but I'll try soon

Best wishes,
Fliss