A dance with Debussy
i too was in the flood of inspiration that set the violin
into motion for his grand piece - debussy
everybody who loves the entrancing notes
that flow like flaming june in a warm noon breeze
the burst of fresh air after the sweltering shine of sun
shifting beams swirling in my piping hot coffee
under the garden tree in a scintillating flurry of bird's songs
shimmering mersmerising ensemble staged with
so much passion by the atlantic over and over
in a swirl of irresistible grace and harmony of
sky and sea that carries a generous applause
of warm foam to titilate the senses awakening
a part in me that has been lying dormant for years,
and which i recollect every now and then, taking it
like how every brialliant note s savoured in debussy's
supernova display of his music pedigree
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Related quotes
June... June... June... June...
This is for June....and all the summers it brings
Wind chasing bells......of a Church steeple ring
Olde songs of wedlock....over top hat, and lace
'Fore June passes torch....to July's scarlet face
Tree's are full jacket's...........of multi-hue green
The last pink magnolia leaf......still can be seen
There's a breeze in the air, that carries a scent
Of her sweet honeysuckle....fresh efflorescence
Still, nights cast a chill, but June has its motive
An inviting warm flame....bright amorous votive
Moonlite romance...'neath a nautic June breeze
Make love in June sparkle like starshine on sea
___________________- F j R -___________________
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Ode to the Coffee
i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me
dawn, noon, night
hot, cold, warm
blow, sip, drink, slurp,
kiss and be all afresh
i am black
i am your
coffee of the day
one two three
gulp
gulp
gulp
...
i am black
i am coffee
every body loves me
i fill them up like
a ballet dancer
making them feel good
about the day
quickening their steps
sharpening their senses
giving their mind
the acme of my kicks
so that they twirl and swirl
the day like the best angel
full of class, verve,
grace and fervour
i am black
i am coffee
everybody loves me
dawn, noon or night
i am there to brew up your day
hot, cold, or warm -
like the ever changing day
cloudy, raining,
breezy, or sunny
i am the master of diversity
assimilator of tastes
topping up your wishes
with heaps of creamy,
tangy and flavourful offerings
i can be covered with ice,
caramelled, skimmed, creamed,
buttered, sugared, monchiatoed
and then let loose like
a jazzed up latino black,
red hot arabica wonder
to spiral down your lane
an exotic belly dancer,
sweeping you off your feet
keeping you wide awake for the
peak of every hour
kilimanjaro picked,
sulawesi civet cat intestine
fermented coffee beans
on the lowland, in the highlands
nut scented, spiced -
india, africa, indonesia,
you name it, we have them
the morning cup of coffee
pervades the air, colours
the day with such grand things
it holds and springs a thousand surprises -
with romances and verile seeds
to take us through the
greatest date - a black
- painting the day - like gems
sparkling and twinkling over
the floor of our thoughts
i am coffee
i emerge a circle of green,
turn a humble beige, and is roasted
till all black, brittle, and ground
- to give that gentle, tangy, bitter
flavour of earth - so that you can
pirouette the day away
with that ounce of humility
and intelligence
coffee sings all day long
- a beige roasted all black,
ground, percolated and now all ready
sitting lightly in a cup to please you -
an indulgence from a thousand miles away
sweet, bitter, hot or cold
i am black
i am your
coffee of the day
let me give you all the kicks
to jumpstart your day
listen the music has just started..
gulp, gulp, slurp
more virile than gangnam steps
- twirling, swirling over
your discerning tongue
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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For Debussy the musician and the man I have had profound admiration, but by nature I'm different from him. I think I have always personally followed a direction opposed to that of the symbolism of Debussy.
quote by Maurice Ravel
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Whenever God Shines His Light
Look at the ivy on the old clinging wall
Look at the flowers and the green grass so tall
It's not a matter of when push comes to shove
It's just an hour on the wings of a dove
I dig it when you're fancy dressed up in lace
I dig it when you have a smile on your face
This inspiration's got to be on the flow
This invitation's got to see it and know
It's just warm love
It's just warm love
And it's everpresent everywhere
And it's everpresent everywhere
That warm love
To the country I'm going
Lay and laugh in the sun
You can bring, bring your guitar along
We'll sing some songs, we'll have some fun
The sky is crying and it's time to go home
And we shall hurry to the car from the foam
Sit by the fire and dry out our wet clothes
It's raining outside from the skies up above
Inside it's warm love
Inside it's warm love
And it's everpresent everywhere
And it's everpresent everywhere
Warm love
Warm love
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music is the silence between the notes.
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Beauty must appeal to the senses, must provide us with immediate enjoyment, must impress us or insinuate itself into us without any effort on our part.
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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January Morn
Bare branches of each tree
on this chilly January morn
look so cold so forlorn.
Gray skies dip ever so low
left from yesterday's dusting of snow.
Yet in the heart of each tree
waiting for each who wait to see
new life as warm sun and breeze will blow,
like magic, unlock springs sap to flow,
buds, new leaves, then blooms will grow. Like heart and soul in every man
who let their light grow ever dim
a spark still burns low within
longing to burst forth, to shine again.
Like bare branches on a January morn
don't feel cold don't feel forlorn.
Our Heavenly Father like warm spring sun
like gentle warm wind
when called upon
will make each light burn bright again.
poem by Nelda Hartman
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Warm Love
Look at the ivy on the cold clinging wall
Look at the flowers and the green grass so tall
Its not a matter of when push comes to shove
Its just an hour on the wings of a dove
I dig it when youre fancy dressed up in lace
I dig it when you have a smile on your face
This inspirations got to be on the flow
This invitations got to see it and know
Its just warm love
Its just warm love
And its everpresent everywhere
And its everpresent everywhere
That warm love
To the country Im going
Lay and laugh in the sun
You can bring, bring your guitar along
Well sing some songs, well have some fun
The sky is crying and its time to go home
And we shall hurry to the car from the foam
Sit by the fire and dry out our wet clothes
Its raining outside from the skies up above
Inside its warm love
Inside its warm love
And its everpresent everywhere
And its everpresent everywhere
Warm love
Warm love
song performed by by Van Morrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aries The Ram
A Ram is like a summer
day,
Sparks of fire on display.
Tends to be number one,
Care-free, loving, having fun.
Going inward to meditate,
Loves a spirited debate.
You'll feel passion, in the
air,
Understand, their magnetic
flair.
A day-dreamer, they might
be,
Coming by this naturally.
Somewhat shy, and warm
you know,
Agitate the ram, you will go.
Passion runs from warm to
hot,
You'll feel their heat, the
heat they've got.
They adore the color red,
I believe enough is said.
They are strong, and alert,
Goes inward, preventing.
hurt
For them, searching is the
key,
Solving lifes mystery.
They arise and bless the
day,
Lifes gift is on display.
Avid readers, they tend to
write,
They've been known to even
fight.
After all, they are a ram
Hello, thank you, mame.
poem by Heather Burns
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The century of airplanes has a right to its own music.
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If I am not making music, I have no reason for existing.
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music Notes
Music
The most beautiful thing I'll ever know
A music note
A note after another note
Composed to create sound
To create feelings
Thoughts
And emotion
Music notes are the most beautiful things I've ever seen
A note
Just a glance and u know
Knowing music is being created
Just the beauty of a music note
And the thing is
I can't read music notes
Just the sound the music notes make
poem by Aerin Andre
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Renunciation
ROSE of the desert of my heart,
Moon of the night that is my soul,
Thou can'st not know how sweet thou art,
Nor what wild tides thy beams control.
For all thy heart a garden is,
Thy soul is like a dawn of May.
And garden and dawn might both be his,
Who from them both must turn away.
Oh, garden of the Spring's delight!
Oh, dewy dawn of perfect noon!
I will not pluck thy roses white
Or warm thy May-time into June.
I can but bless thee, moon and rose,
And journey far and very far
To where the night no moonbeam shows,
To where no happy roses are!
poem by Edith Nesbit
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People come to music to seek oblivion: is that not also a form of deception?
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music is the arithmetic of sounds as optics is the geometry of light.
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Time in its irresistible and ceaseless flow carries along on its flood all created things and drowns them in the depths of obscurity.
quote by Anna Comnena
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Am Singing The Songs Of The Rivers
i am singing the songs of the rivers
and my notes flow like the rage of the the flood of the waters
rushing and rushing
all wanting immediately to be with you
passing through the mouths
between us
you are the sea of deep desires
and i am singing the songs of the rivers
i flood into you and be lost forever
in love i take the inevitable destination
of losing myself and be part of this universal longing
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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That Jones Boy
Seattle,1943. He's just ten.
The family's poor beyond hunger,
thrown out of Chicago by Al Capone
for making too much money.
When it's dark and quiet,
they break into an armoury
for - pie. In the dark
he sees a piano he thinks it's called,
plays a note or two and knows
this is what you'll be doing all your life.
Later, after years of playing
stuff like Debussy with Ray,
he gives Frank a jazzy edge,
later again, a thriller
for Michael
He says, don't wait
for the paralysis of analysis,
listen to God's whisper,
and if it gives you goosebumps,
go with it.
It's said that truth
is stranger than fiction.
I think not: it's sweeter, for it's
nearer the bone,
sweeter as the sweet notes
that he hears
poem by Michael Shepherd
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The Sailor's Garden
There's a soft wind singing in the idle rigging,
High tide splashing, and a young pale moon,
Lights in a window and a fiddle jigging
Over and over there the same short tune.
Oh, was it the tide along the ship's side sighing,
Or was it the sighing wind that breaths and blows,
Came like a voice across the deep crying,
Set my heart a-thinking how my garden grows?
Five years ago it was I planted roses,
Five years ago (the bush is grown a tree):
Five years ago, and once I've seen my posies,
Five years ago - and once they bloomed for me!
I was home in Spring, bloom was in May then,
Birds all were building and buds were on the tree!
When the birds were flown, oh, I was far away then;
When the rose was open I was far at sea.
I was home in autumn; winds of cold November
Shaking the leaf that shivered on the tree;
Brown leaves that sighed of sorrow to remember
Flowers that had fallen and I far at sea.
Oh, many are the roads that lead you here and yonder,
Oh, many are the ways about the world that go;
But the longest way of all's the sailor's way to wander
To the good North Country and an Isle I know.
Oh, many are the winds about the seas a-singing,
Oh, many are the songs they sing both night and noon:
But whether it be good or ill that they come bringing
The best of all's the wind that blows us home in June.
Home, home in June - and soon to be a-going;
Home, home in June - we may not long remain;
Home, home in June, just to see the garden growing,
And then fare you well till you greet us home again.
poem by Cicely Fox Smith
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Music is the expression of the movement of the waters, the play of curves described by changing breezes.
quote by Claude Debussy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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