For me it's the instrument. If I want to think of a flute and the state of the arts I hear a vibrato; I don't know what a flute is unless the person plays it for me.
quote by Morton Feldman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music
The neighbour sits in his window and plays the flute.
From my bed I can hear him,
And the round notes flutter and tap about the room,
And hit against each other,
Blurring to unexpected chords.
It is very beautiful,
With the little flute-notes all about me,
In the darkness.
In the daytime,
The neighbour eats bread and onions with one hand
And copies music with the other.
He is fat and has a bald head,
So I do not look at him,
But run quickly past his window.
There is always the sky to look at,
Or the water in the well!
But when night comes and he plays his flute,
I think of him as a young man,
With gold seals hanging from his watch,
And a blue coat with silver buttons.
As I lie in my bed
The flute-notes push against my ears and lips,
And I go to sleep, dreaming.
poem by Amy Lowell
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Flute Lads!
I flute the up and down of sun,
I flute the pallid moon,
I flute the rivers deep and wide
And down the merry tide.
I leave the rose so red
And pluck the lily white;
I flute upon my bed
And play into the night.
If I could flute forever
And play a merry tune,
Then I would know no sorrow
In April, May, and June.
So up and down the golden sun
And up the pallid moon,
Flute my lovely lads, flute,
In April, May, and June.
poem by Samuel Hardman
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The young man plays the flute, the middle aged man plays the harpsichord, the old man plays the organ.
In the spirit of Rumi - 27
‘O My Beloved –
I lose myself in the world’s distracting multiplicity,
yet cannot find the One in my restless mind –
I am in a desert place, a place of desolation… ’
My Beloved said
see the reeds, gently swaying like swooning dervishes
on the river bank, their feet in the water –
a man could sit for hours and watch them –
are they not beautiful?
See now the reed-flute, so carefully crafted,
waiting there to sound out sadness, love and joy –
is it not beautiful?
See the musician – how his eyes shine
with the music in his soul!
Is he not beautiful?
Hear the music that he plays –
telling its stories of life and death, of heaven and earth –
is it not beautiful?
Now watch him as he plays
the music which is himself
on the flute made from the willing reed –
am I not the One you hear in this?
I am beautiful in My Oneness;
I am beautiful in My multiplicity;
Is there a greater miracle than this?
And you, the witness of all this in Me –
is there a greater miracle than yourself?
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Snakes
Open the basket
Listen to the flute play
Open the basket
Listen to the flute play
Toot toot toot play
Snakes in the basket
Lie to lead you astray
Snakes in the basket
Force to make you betray
Your innermost truth hidden away
Now you're falling down to the underground
Slither down to your lair
Hidden in the many trenches of a hopeless war
Those who were sold out by a corporate board
Carry the casket
Never mind the gun spray
Bury the casket
Pawns in someone's gameplay
Shoot shoot shoot obey
Now you're falling down to the underground
Slither down to your lair
Hidden in the many trenches of a hopeless war
Those who were sold out by a corporate board
Listen to the flute play
Listen to the flute play
Listen to the flute play
Subscription to the spreading of lies
Soldier catches a glimpse of his demise deep down inside
Even he knows snakes come in many shapes and sizes
Many shapes and sizes
Snakes have no hands to be tied
Concoction of malicious lies
Deep inside the general despises himself
Listen to the flute play
Another reptile in line
Snakes without grass cannot hide
Now you're falling down to the underground
Slither down to your lair
Hidden in the many trenches of a hopeless war
Those who were sold out by a corporate board
Now you're falling down to the underground
Slither down to your lair
Forked tongues spread the poison with another toxic sting
So much pain their serpentine inhibitions bring
Oh - listen to the flute play
Listen to the flute play
Listen to the flute play
Listen to the flute play
Open the basket
Open the basket
Listen to the flute play
Open the basket
Listen to the flute play
Listen to the flute play
Go ahead
Listen to the flute play
Open the basket
Oh - open the basket
song performed by by No Doubt from Beacon Street Collection
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chasing The Sounds Of A Remembered Flute
Chasing the sounds of a remembered flute,
And not choosing a route from where to begin...
Can be unsettling for the one undecided,
If it was a piccolo used with an octave higher.
Or if the flute thought heard,
Was not in fact,
A clarinet?
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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There was an Old Man with a flute,
A serpent ran into his boot;
But he played day and night,
Till the serpent took flight,
And avoided that man with a flute.
by Edward Lear from A Book of Nonsense (1846)
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You got to play the flute as a flute, like that. You can't play like a tenor concept on soprano; it sounds wrong. But some guys do it, and they think it's O.K., but not so!
quote by Jerome Richardson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Everyone who plays the flute should learn singing.
quote by James Galway
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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0245 The Sound of The Flute
Listen to the sound of this reed-flute –
hear what it says. First, it laments
its banishment; its tearing away
from its home, its reed-bed. And
this alone, tears at the yearning heart
of all those whose heart feels far from home.
Listen to it.
Then behind its breathy air
is fire – the fire of love; that sound
which tells every love-story in the world,
of lovers, parted, yearning to be
together once more. This flute first
tells of separation; then of unity.
Listen to it.
Do not listen to this dangerous
flute, unless you wish to hear
the innermost secrets of your heart –
the parting and the separation,
the yearning, yearning, for return –
Dare you listen to this story of pain, of love?
Listen to it.
(freely taken from the Prologue to Book I of the Masnavi I Ma’navi
of Maulana Jalalu’din Muhammad Rumi, the founder Dervish)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Japa-yajna
Carrier wave; sine curve; you see it
on the heartscan lifescreen
in the intensive care ward
as if with no regard for you
it’s self-sufficient; sufficient to the self;
the same curve that the flute’s note makes onscreen,
pure as Krishna’s smile; his lips
making breath into sound
hear that, hear that which
runs day and night; repetition
that always never does repeat
and only when you’re still
will you know with Krishna
the sound of inner sacrifice
that never ends and yet
so pure it’s given beyond sought;
flute’s sound beyond all sound;
how still the room is now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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I Am Restless
I am restless. I am athirst for far-away things.
My soul goes out in a longing to touch the skirt of the dim distance.
O Great Beyond, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I have no wings to fly, that I am bound in this spot evermore.
I am eager and wakeful, I am a stranger in a strange land.
Thy breath comes to me whispering an impossible hope.
Thy tongue is known to my heart as its very own.
O Far-to-seek, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that I know not the way, that I have not the winged horse.
I am listless, I am a wanderer in my heart.
In the sunny haze of the languid hours, what vast vision of thine takes shape in the blue of the sky!
O Farthest end, O the keen call of thy flute!
I forget, I ever forget, that the gates are shut everywhere in the house where I dwell alone!
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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I couldn’t play a brass instrument — I tried but I was really bad — I couldn’t play the flute, and the accordion was a keyboard so it was easy.
Yann Tiersen in interview in musicOMH (2010)
Submitted by Dan Costinaş
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The Disagreeable Musician
'E wouldn't play the flute; the sulky cow.
An', after all the trouble that we took
To try an' cheer,'is spirits up some'ow,
'E jes' sat there an' slung a glarsy look
To orl the crowd. The diserbligin' coot!
'E wouldn't play the flute.
After we'd done our gilt in on the spread
Fish from the Dago joint, an' bottled beer,
An' froot, an' 'am, an' saverloys an' bread
'E wouldn't eat. Jes' shook 'is silly 'ead.
An' though we begged 'im for some choonful toot,
'E wouldn't play the flute.
I puts it to yeh: Wuz we actin' fair?
Wot more could neighbors do to cheer a bloke?
We knoo they 'e 'ad troubles fer to bear,
An' jes called in to 'ave a friendly joke.
An', though we tempted 'im with 'am an' froot,
'E wouldn't play the flute.
There wuz Flash Liz, an' me, an' Ginger Mick.
An' Mother Gumphy frum the corner store.
An' Bill the Rabbit-o, an' Dirty Dick,
An' Nan the Nark, an' 'arf a dozzing more.
But strike! It seemed the comp'ny didn't soot!
'E wouldn't play the flute.
I want yer dead straight griffen. Wuz we right?
Wuz it unneighborly to look 'im up
An' 'ave a little beano on the quite?....
Fer Grief an' 'im wuz cobbers on that night.
But there 'e sat, like 's if 'e'd taken root,
An' wouldn't play the flute.
We sung a song er two to give 'im 'eart,
'An' jes' to show yeh wot a nark 'e wuz,
'E wouldn't sing. 'E wouldn't take no part.
'E wouldn't eat no matter wot we does.
'E wouldn't drink, 'e wouldn't touch the froot.
Or play 'is flamin' flute.
A blimed wet blankit at our little feast.
Thet's wot 'e wuz. 'E jes sat there an' stared
Straight out afore 'im. Wouldn't take the least
Account o' wot we did. 'E'd never cared
If we wuz rooned wif buyin' fish an' froot.
'E wouldn't play the flute.
Aw, it wuz crook! I swear I never seen
So mean a coot. An' 'e could play a treat
Play like a blinded angel, for 'e'd been
A star pufformer - played afore the Queen!
An', though 'e knoo we knoo of 'is repute,
'E wouldn't play the flute.
We knoo 'e'd been a bonzer in 'is day
Afore 'e struck the slum in Scrooge's Lane.
I've orfen 'eard it said 'e useter play
In some swell orchestrer fer fancy pay.
An' there 'e sat, in 'is ole shabby soot,
An' wouldn't play the flute.
We knoo 'e'd struck tough luck an' drifted down
'Im an' 'is missis - till they come to live
On 'arf o' nothink in our part o' town.
It weren't no fault of ours that they wuz driv
Frum bad to worse, till they wuz destichoot.
'E wouldn't play the flute.
'E wouldn't play. Jes shook 'is silly 'ead.
We done our best to cheer 'im, fer we knoo
'Is wife wuz lyin' in the nex' room, dead.
Died 'cause of sooicide, the neighbors said.
But, spite of all we done, the selfish brute,
'E wouldn't play the flute.
poem by Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis
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Lord Krishna said
Lord Krishna said once
"Come to me and take no chance"
Listen to the flute
It may dilute
Your hatred
And be never led
By wrong notion
That may break the nations
My flute may sing
Universal brotherhood songs
That may appeal
And make souls to regale
Listen to the music
It may form the basic
There is no hidden magic
It is the only one and unique
I am symbol of love and peace
That can be felt in early breeze
When birds make beautiful and lovely melody
The ears may love to hear to the tune of somebody
Love to hear for few minutes
It may enhance the power and dilute
All irrelevant thoughts in mind
Try for lovely and beautiful world to find
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Shades Of The Devil
like a flute
carved
to be
blown in
the correct way
this physique
is built to
work wonders
tell a little lie
set in all
schemes for evil
your aura
turns sour
your voice
switches
innocence
and you walk
the way of sins
this physique
like a flute
is built for beauty
blow it the wrong way
breathe it with evil
it will echo lucifer
in the hearts of all
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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A Brief Note On Marriage!
Flute music is coming when I am writing this poem;
The sweet music is being rendered by a flute vendor!
Flute music reminds all of the hero of Bhagavad-Gita
Who proposed the policy of nonattachment in life!
Marriages are fixed in heaven many say since long time
But why are some going for divorces after the marriage?
Love or arranged marriages should be based on love;
But too much attachment finding faults ends in divorces!
Nothing is perfect in the world let alone love and marriage;
What is more important is love to be cherished as humans
So that relations would last longer making happier life here;
Critically seeing differences one cannot find peace of mind.
Bond of marriages is supposed to last till the end of life
But not to suffer by marriages till the end of life in the world!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Turn The Beat Around (Def Classic Mix)
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Blow horns you sure sound pretty
Your violins keep movin' to the nitty gritty
When you hear the scratch of the guitars scratchin'
Then you'll know that rhythm carries all the action, so
Woah yeah
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Flute player play your flute 'cause
I know that you want to get your thing off
But you see I've made up my mind about it
It's got to be the rhythm, no doubt about it, woah woah
'Cause when the guitar player start playing
With the syncopated rhythm, with the scratch, scratch, scratch
Makes me wanna move my body yeah, yeah, yeah
And when the drummer starts beating that beat
He nails that beat with the syncopated rhythm
With the rat, tat, tat, tat, tat, tat on the drums, hey
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Love to hear it
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn it up, turn it up, turn it upside down
Turn the beat around
Love to hear the percussion
Turn it upside down
Love to hear the percussion
Love to hear it
song performed by by Gloria Estefan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Cat Scat
I am watching Cleo listening, our cat
listening to Mozart's Magic Flute. What
can she be hearing? What
can the air carry into her ears like that,
her ears swivelling like radio dishes that
are tuned to all the noise of the world, flat
and sharp, high and low, a scramble of this and that
she can decode like nobody's business, acrobat
of random airs as she is? Although of course a bat
is better at it, sifting out of its acoustic habitat
the sound of the very shape of things automat-
ically-- and on the wing, at that. The Magic Flute! What
a joy it is, I feel, and wonder (to the end this little scat)
doe , or can, the cat.
poem by Eamon Grennan
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Flute - a triolet
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air.
Most natural, magical, musical instrument.
Makes melodious the complete atmosphere
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air.
In hands of Lord Krishna, Hindus wish to be flute.
In tranquillity, ears sense celestial experience.
Hollow and holes of bamboo played with air;
Most natural, magical, musical instrument.
poem by S.D. Tiwari
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