You start way down on a low B flat on the tuba and you have a chromatic scale; you can match the colours all the way up, till you get to the top of the trumpet.
quote by Gerry Mulligan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
Yachil Vi Veyachali
YACHILWI WYA'ACHALI DAYMAN 'ALA B'ALI
YACHILWI WYA'ACHALI DAYMAN 'ALA B'ALI
AKAL'TAK EYL CHALI V'LABASTAK EYL GHALI
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HABIBI FI YA NAS HILWA W'MAKHTUBAH
HABIBI FI YA NAS HILWA W'MAKHTUBAH
W'YINTUN S'YILTUNI HILWA WACHBUBAH...
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
CHLAPTI LAK 'AYMAN HABIBI WYAS'LAYMAN
CHLAPTI LAK 'AYMAN HABIBI WYAS'LAYMAN
NISIRTI LAK HAMDAH W'MAH BEYNI W'BEYNAK
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
B'ADEH EYL HILW B'ADEH YA NAS HILW DZHADEH
B'ADEH EYL HILW B'ADEH YA NAS HILW DZHADEH
ASMAR W'YIKHALANI AKHOL 'ASEL NUBAH
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HABIBI EYL GHANI BYIL'HABBI 'ALAMNI
HABIBI EYL GHANI BYIL'HABBI 'ALAMNI
LA WA NISIS DZHAMBI MACHAD BILI DZHAMBI
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI W'ALMAHHIBAH B'ALYA YA RABBI TUBA'
HI WA!
song performed by by Ofra Haza
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Tuba
I was once in a band
in school long ago
when the Poison was big
as their hair
When I was a lad
I played a Golden Tuba
and marched all
over the land
We played in parks
for elderly folks
we played in the gym
for our parents
but mine weren't there
We marched in parades
and my Tuba shined
because I polished it
every day and night
I was so proud of that
Tuba and the sound it
produced that I played
it at home in my room
marching in place
like the whole band
was there
and such pride, such pride
until Dad broke it.
poem by John W. McEwers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Colours Of Love
The colours of love,
The colours of unity,
The colours of peace,
The colours of humility,
the colours of care,
The colours of passion,
The colours of romance,
The colours of the mind,
The colours of your works,
The colours of mankind;
But, let true love come out from your heart!
For, in peace and unity we have to live on this earth together:
Than, the bullets of war that divides us always! ! !
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Christendom
I hear in my dreams a far away church bell tolls and a choir.
I see the Christmas tree decorated in every house.
The Christians are very happy in the month of December.
They are commemorating Christ birth.
Their chromatic hearts bring the chromatic scale all over the season.
Though I am a Buddhist I have my regards and respect at all for the infant Jesus because you are a human being my Lord!
I admire the Jesus Christ and I grow my beard as yours
But it never comes like that.
And I try to smile like you but it’s not similar to your smile.
I too carry my cross towards the graveyard but I feel that your cross is heavier than mine.
Judas is still accompanying in different surnames.
I am sorry not only one my Lord!
There are thousands who camouflage as saints and make pitfalls to the scapegoats?
The brothers are very cruel nowadays and they kill each other for borders and boundaries.
Some they go to Mars for searching new lands.
Anyway I do respect my Lord!
Christianity a religion based on teachings of Christ.
But I wonder why some they scattered into different groups?
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flying Colours
Shout if you will, but that just wont do.
I, for one, would rather follow softer options.
Ill take the easy line; another sip of wine,
And if I ignore the face you wore its just a way of
Mine to keep from flying colours.
Dont lay your bait while the whole world waits
Around to see me shoot you down --- its all so second-rate.
When we can last for days on a loving night;
Or for hours at least on a warm whisper given.
You always pick the best time to rise to the fight.
To break the hard bargain that weve driven.
Once again were flying colours.
I thought we had it out the night before,
And settled old scores, but not the hard way.
Was it a glass too much? or a smile too few?
Did our friends all catch the needle match --- did we
Want them to?
In a fancy restaurant we were all aglow
Keeping cool by mutual permission.
How did the conversation get to where we came to blows?
We were set up in a red condition
And again were flying colours.
Shout --- but you see it still wont do.
With my colours on I can be just as bad as you.
Have I had a glass too much? did I give a smile too few?
Did our friends all catch the needle match --- did we
Want them to?
We act our parts so well, like we wrote the play.
All so predictable and we know it.
Well settle old scores now, and settle the hard way.
You may not even live to outgrow it!
Once again were flying colours.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black And Red
Black and Red
The colours of dead
Black and Red
The colours of my bed.
Black and Red
swirling in my head
Black and Red
Killing my brov Ted.
BLACK AND RED
Black and Red
Colours that spread
Black and Red
The patterned thread.
Black and Red
The voices said
Black and Red
I Iove eating bread
Black and Red
My favourite colours till the end.
poem by Carniz Fatema
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Colours
Colours are just colours
One might suppose
Rage is red…
But then again…
so is a rose
So colours are more
Than they seem, don’t’ you think
For boys it’s usually blue
For little girls always pink
Yep, colours are colours
Perhaps that’s all they should be
Just something to look at
Only something to see
But colours have emotion
At least they do to me
Perhaps I just don’t see hues
In the same way
that you see
Because blue to me
Is more than just a hue
It’s the sky, it’s berries,
Oceans … and sadness too
Green is envy, grass and dinero
Purple is royalty, plums and passion
Yellow is cowardice, butter and tallow
Colours are … whatever you wish to fashion
Perhaps I see colours differently than you
Perhaps exactly the same way… I hope
But my advice to you, whatever you do
Is … don’t get me started on taupe! !
poem by David Whalen
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Little Jimmy's First Football Match
Jimmy just couldn't sleep
he was too excited for that
he hadn't felt like this
since he stroked a Meerkat.
His mother said as a treat
for being such a good lad
he could go to the football
on Saturday with his Dad.
His nan knitted him a scarf
in the colours of the team
and on the morning of the match
he was so happy he could scream.
So the big day had arrived
and off he went to the match
he sat with his dad in the stands
with a cup of tea and a batch.
This was Jimmy's first game
as he was only just seven
but sitting there with his Dad
he was in football heaven.
The match was brilliant
Jimmy's team scored four
and if it wasn't for their keeper
it would have been a lot more.
Jimmy's world changed that day
football was to become his life
as an adult it cost him a lot
eventually his long suffering wife.
So let this serve as a warning
football can be bad for your boy
so instead of taking him to a match
take him fishing or buy him a toy!
poem by Kevin Halls
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Like To Dance
i like to dance
early this morning
like a top
whirling whirling
like a top
till i get nauseous
at the end
till i lay flat tired
on the floor
flat footed on the
stairs
from Jamaica
to the world
as they sing it
like love
it will just be love
for my
fading generation.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Flat Out
The sun was mighty warm today!
The lioness concurred...
She found a pleasant rock to lay,
A spot that she preferred...
And then she sort of melted there...
And with that rock was one,
Such that she simply didn't care
About that sizzling sun...
Her heavy eyelids flickered still,
Some consciousness to keep,
As if a final act of will
Before she slipped to sleep...
Her breathing in and breathing out
Were simply not the same
And should there be a single doubt,
She'd swear, the sun's to blame!
Flat out, she was, her tail as well,
Like one long stretch of string...
As if the victim of a spell,
She couldn't do a thing!
The mighty huntress met her match!
Flat out, for all to see...
And there she stayed, some sleep to snatch,
From noon till half-past-three...
Denis Martindale, copyright, July 2012.
The poem is based on the magnificent painting
by Stephen Gayford called 'Flat Out'.
More Stephen Gayford poems here:
denis-martindale-dot-blogspot-dot-com
poem by Denis Martindale
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whisper on the Breeze 0258 2006 Version
Let's soar beyond ground limits, spread the spore
of present joys till Death destroys all we
could - would attain unchained. Life's mystery,
what lingers when Time fingers? no encore.
We little store transmit, on Earth no more
than memories, swirled winds whirl wild sigh seas.
Seize wishful thinking whisper on the breeze,
some soothing raindrops sent in summer pour,
to mine mind sense, some season's reason for
our quest, which questions inks, thinks answers sees
while surfing superficiality
for life's chromatic scale, some ciphered score.
Let all together seek the secret key
to life's myrrh music, stirring symphony.
(28 November 2006)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Whisper on the Breeze 0258 Current Version
Let's soar beyond ground limits, spread sure spore
of present joys till Death discards all we
could - would attain unchained. Life's mystery,
what lingers when Time fingers? no encore.
we soujourners transmit, on Earth no more
than memories ourselves - sighs swirling seas,
whirl winds twirling whisper on the breeze,
wishful thinking teardrops, summer pour.
Still, rarely still, soul seeks sense, reason for
its perch, its search, puts questions, answers sees.
Behind veiled door is there some secret key
unlocking life's chromatic scale, some score
whose unique sense decoded, finally
frees life's myrhh music, stirring symphony.
(12 May 2008)
poem by Jonathan Robin
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ang Tugon Ni Ogden Nash Sa Mga Bana
Aron kuno magbukal gihapon
Ang tuba diha sa hungot sa inyong kaminyoon
Kon ikaw ang bana ug nasayop ka
Ayaw daghag estorya, dawata.
Kon ikaw ang sakto, maghilomhilom na lang kuno ka.
Sa pagkadungog ni Jerry kabahin sa gisulti ni Ogden
Siya miiktin nga mora og baktin
Kay kuno nganong ingon ana man
Dili ba unfair? Nagtagay mi sa tuba
tupad sa gisumsuman nga kinilaw nga isda...
Migalot si Jerry. Mibangka og estorya
Kay kuno dili gyod siya magpa-under sa iyang asawa.
Wa pa mahuman ang iyang pagpunay og porma
Nadunggan niya ang tawag sa iyang asawa:
“Jer! Jer! Jer! Jer! Pauli na, kadali ba! '
Nayabo ang galon sa tuba nga iyang nasingkilan
Dihang kalit mikaratil siya'g dagan.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Deaf Trumpeter
How long are you going to trumpets
Your sad melody for the Trumpet flower in the Trumpet woods?
Brother! You get trampled one day by the trumpet weeds
And we never hear of you again.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Alex Descends Into Hell For A Bottle Of Milk/korova 1
Dies irae, dies illa
Dies irae, dies illa
Tuba mirum spargens sonum
Decet in inferno
Dies illa, dies illa
Translation:
A day of wrath, that day
A day of wrath, that day
The amazing sound scattering from the trumpet
As is fitting for hell
That day, that day
song performed by by U2
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Stop
Gone too far
Gone too long
Messed it up completely
Till everything is wrong
Stop, start over, start again
Too many pieces
Too much to chew
How can you ever win
When youre so scared to loose
You better stop, start over, start again
Stop, start over, start again
Walk away
See what it looks like from here
If you stay you will only drown
If a mass of fear
You need to sleep
You need a break
You got to find out before its to late
Stop, start again
You better stop, start over, start again
song performed by by Chris Rea
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Black Silver
Silver is the mirror,
Where colours cannot run
From one into another
For silver it has none
Silver is a blackness
Which defies pure light to come
And when it does reflects it
Its image still as one
So that when you look upon it
Your face it will become
Not in silver, but the colours,
With which your face does run
Then with your world behind you
By light reflected one
Not in blackness, but in colours
You are colours of the sun
All mirrors do remind us
That colour is the light
And that they do not see us
In the darkness of the night
For colours are but energy
From the spectrum as it falls
On everything around us
Except, from silver balls
The colours of the rainbow
The colours in the sky
The colours of our galaxy
Are in a baby’s eye
Colours all around us
Enable us to see
That the world in which we live, is part of us,
Lifes chemistry
poem by Egal Bohen
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A coach can only teach.
A coach is not a match to his players.
Stamina matters.
A teacher cannot match his students;
Memory matters.
A preacher cannot match his disciples;
Staunchness matters.
A husband cannot match his cuckold;
Curiosity matters.
Can a ladder match the climber?
30.09.2010
poem by Rm. Shanmugam Chettiar
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Who’ll Wear the Beaten Colours?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours—and cheer the beaten men?
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, till our time comes again?
Where sullen crowds are densest, and fickle as the sea,
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We closed the bars and gambling dens and voted straight and clean,
Our women walked while motor cars were whirling round the scene,
The Potts Point Vote was one for Greed and Ease and Luxury
With all to hold, and coward gold, and beaten folk are we.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, with hands and pockets clean?
(I wore the beaten colours since I was seventeen)
I wore them up, and wore them down, Outback and across the sea—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, and wear them home with me?
We wore them back from Ladysmith to where the peace was signed,
And wore them through the London streets where Jingoes howled behind.
We wore them to the Queen’s Hall, while England yelled “Pro-Boers!”
And sat them over victory while London banged the doors.1
We wore them from Port Arthur round till all sunk in the sea—
(Who’ll wear the white man’s colours, and wear them home with me?)
I’ve worn them through with gentlemen, with work-slaves and alone—
Who’ll wear the beaten colours, boys, and wear them on his own?
There’s one would look with startled eyes and shrink while I caressed,
Came I not with the colours of the conquered on my breast.
And twenty thousand Bushmen would stand with hands behind
And scorn in all their faces for the coward of his kind.
Who’ll wear the beaten colours and raise the voice they drowned—
It may be when we march again, they’ll bear some other sound—
Who’ll pin the beaten colours on and drive the beaten pen—
It may be other steel and ink when we march out again.
poem by Henry Lawson
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Start Me Up
Now I don't need nobody's persuasion
To get this party off of the ground
So get the music jumpin' we'll all get down
Start me up !!
We'll take if off like we're in our bedroom
We'll turn it on like never before
And we'll sweat this joint just to make a point
Start me up !!
And we'll take no survivors
Hit the roof can't get much higher now
It's your turn... Start me up !!
I'll give ya all my riches
Are you ready for booty and kisses now
Here we go... Start me up !!
Chorus
Start me up !! Start me up !!
And if it takes all night - we can do it right
Start me up !!
Now I'm a girl that's on a mission
And I won't quit till I'm satisfied
So get your bod' in gear 'cause we got no fear
Start me up !!
'Cause dreams won't last forever
(But) as long as we just stay together.
You can always... Start me up !!
Chorus
song performed by by Kate Ryan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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