Not at a Loss Chord - after Adelaide Anne Procter – A Lost Chord
Not at a Loss Chord
Playing one day with my organ,
I was blissful – not ill at ease -
while five fingers wandered wildly
web-cams recording each wheeze.
I know the spot vibrating,
less what I was dreaming then,
but I strummed with both will and spirit
and an “Oh My God! Amen! ”
Adrenaline flowed not vainly
from heart to crimson palm,
as it coursed both veins and spirit
with little akin to calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
like love overcoming strife;
it seem[en]ed orgasmic echo
to tune discordant life.
It linked all perplexèd meanings
into one perfect peace,
and trembled away into silence
although I was loth to cease.
I have sought, and I seek not vainly,
that one G spot divine,
which linked my soul to the organ
so manifestly mine.
La petite morte delightful
strikes shivering molten core,
as this little verse insightful
calls for en corps encore!
It may be that Death's bright angel
will speak in that chord again,
for it’s surely in seventh Heaven
one sings “Oh My God! Amen! ”
Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
8 April 2007
ROBIN Jonathan 1947_2006 robi3_1338_proc1_0001 PXY_MXX Not at a Loss Chord_Playing one day with my organ
A Lost Chord
Seated one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexéd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.
It may be that Death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.
Adelaide Anne PROCTER
PROCTER Adelaide Anne 1825_1864 proc1_0001_proc1_0000 PXX_MXX A Lost Chord_Seated on day at the organ
The Lost Chord
Seated one morn at my organ
I was restless and ill-at-ease,
For I had supped too freely
On Kummel and toasted cheese.
I know not what I was playing,
And I wasn’t playing well,
But I struck one chord of music
That lifted the lid off hell.
It howled like a mad gorilla,
It yelped like a blue baboon
As it munches the wild Manilla
In the Mountains of the Moon.
It tied up the simplest meansings
In horrible knots and twists;
It shrouded the dazzling sunlight
In the murk of miasmic mists.
It was barbarous, botulistic,
It linked the Chimaera’s boom
With a dismal, Bedlamistic
And super-decanal gloom.
It shattered my topmost skylight,
It splintered my study door,
And it died away in the twilight
With a galliambic snore.
Oh, I strive with passionate longing
That wondrous chord to recall,
And compose a rhapsody on it
For the Queen’s or the Albert Hall.
I have sought – but I seek it vainly –
That chord so cruel and keen
Which entered the soul of the organ
From the soul of Scriabin.
It may be that Death’s euphonium
That chord some day will sound;
But only in Pandemonium
Will its full effects be found.
Charles Larcom GRAVES Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
GRAVES Charles Larcom 1856_1944 grav1_0004_grav1_0000 PXX_JXX The Lost Chord_Seated one morn at my organ
GRAVES Charles Larcom 1856_1944 grav1_0004_proc1_0001 PXX_JXX The Lost Chord_Seated one morn at my organ
The Lost Word
Seated one day at the typewriter,
I was weary of a's and e's,
And my fingers wandered wildly,
Over the consonant keys.
I know not what I was writing,
With that thing so like a pen;
But I struck one word astounding -
Unknown to the speech of men.
It flooded the sense of my verses,
Like the break of a tinker's dam,
And I felt as one feels when the printer
Of your 'infinite calm' makes clam.
It mixed up s's and x's
Like an alphabet coming to strife.
It seemed the discordant echo
Of a row between husband and wife.
It brought a perplexed meaning
Into my perfect piece,
And set the machinery creaking
As though it were scant of grease.
I have tried, but I try it vainly,
The one last word to divine
Which came from the keys of my typewriter
And so would pass as mine.
It may be some other typewriter
Will produce that word again,
It may be, but only for others -
‘I ‘ shall write henceforth with a pen.
John PAUL Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER 1825_1864 A Lost Chord
PAUL John paul3_0001_paul3_0001 PWX_IXX The Lost Word_Seated one day at the typewriter
PAUL John paul3_0001_proc1_0001 PWX_IXX The Lost Word_Seated one day at the typewriter
A Lost Sister
Whisper your Mother’s Name
I was seated one day in a gilded café
In a window that looked on the street
A face caught my eye in a crowd passing by
And I hastedly sprang to my feet
It was my sister's sad face, I had left home to trace
Through her pride she had left us one day
And it brought back to me, as plain as could be
My mother as I heard her say
CHORUS 'If you should see your sister
do not reproach or blame
Tell her how we've missed her
I love her just the same
Say my darling the words that you've brought her
whether in pride or shame
Say that she's still my daughter
Whisper your mother's name'
(Yodel) EEE-yew-dee-oh-lee-oh-lady-ee-hee
yodeledee-yo deledee-hee
There were tears on her face as she passed by the place
and I hastedly sprang to her side
As we walked along I said, 'Nell, we were wrong
We are sorry we wounded your pride.
Your sweetheart is true and still waiting for you
We are willing now you should wed
If you'll only come back, you can marry your Jack
and please your dear mother who says'
CHORUS
Jimmie RODGERS Parody PROCTER Adelaide Anne 1825_1864 A Lost Chord
RODGERS Jimmie rodg1_0001_rodg1_0000 PXX_JXX A Lost Sister_Seated one day in a gilded café
RODGERS Jimmie rodg1_0001_proc1_0001 PXX_JXX A Lost Sister_Seated one day in a gilded café
The Lost Chord
Seated one day at the organ
I jumped as if I’d been shot,
For the Dean was upon me, snarling
‘Stainer – and make it hot.’
All week I swung Stainer and Barnby,
Bach, Gounod, and Bunnett in A;
I said, ‘Gosh, the old bus is a wonder! ”
The Dean, with a nod, said “Okay”.
D.B. Wyndham LEWIS
Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER 1825_1864 A Lost Chord
LEWIS D.B. Wyndham 1894_1969 lewi1_0002_lewi1_0000 PXX_JXX The Lost Chord_Seated one day at the organ
LEWIS D.B. Wyndham 1894_1969 lewi1_0002_proc1_0001 PXX_JXX The Lost Chord_Seated one day at the organ
The Lost Discord
Standing one day at his organ,
The grinder seemed quite at ease,
With his monkey idly chasing
The far too-industrious fleas.
I know not what he was playing
(for I was composing then) ,
But I heard someone curse that organ,
And I murmured a great ‘Amen! ’
That discord, it filled the silence
With a sound as of tom-cats lorn;
It racked my brain like a nightmare,
It was worse than an oil-cloth torn.
It was like inharmonious yelling;
It made all the street-dogs whine,
It seems that the soul of that organ
Had spitefully gone for mine.
So I made for that organ-grinder
And swore that I’d break each limb;
And his monkey his fleased ceased chasing,
When he saw I meant chasing him.
It may be in some other quarter
He’s playing that air – and then,
If someone is smashing his organ,
I’ll fervently say, “Amen! ”
Author Unknown ‘Judy’ 26 May 1886
Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER 1825_1864 A Lost Chord
pseud Judy PSju1_0004_PUNau_0000 PWX_JXX The Last Discord_Standing one day at his organ
pseud Judy PSju1_0004_proc1_0001 PWX_JXX The Last Discord_Standing one day at his organ
The Lost Drink
Seated one day at a café,
I was thirsty and hot as the sphinx,
And my tongue went babbling idly
Over the names of drinks.
I knew not what I was saying,
Nor what I had uttered then:
But the garçon brought me a mixture
Like a gift of the gods to men.
Its colour a blushing scarlet
Like the tip of a toper’s nose,
And it tickled my fever’d palate
With its flow and after-glows.
It trickled down my gullet
Like oil down a red-hot pipe;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From some supernal swipe.
It linked vin rouge and choice ligueur
Into one perfect drop,
And guggled away down my gullet
As if it were loth to stop.
I have sought – but I seek it vainly –
That one lost drink divine,
Which was mixed by that garçon du café
With curaçoa and red wine.
It may be that some chance garçon
May bring me that drink again;
It may be that some day in Paris
I may utter its name. But then
I never could find that café,
And lost to mortal ken
Is that supernal boisson
Like a gift of the gods to men!
Author Unknown ‘Judy’ 27 October 1886
Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
pseud Judy PSju1_0003_PUNau_0000 PXX_JXX The Lost Drink_Seated one day at a café
The Lost Organ
Seated one day at the organ
With an audience ill-at-ease,
I pulled the stop marked “Bird-song, ”
And the one marked “Autumn Breeze.”
I switched on the rosy lighting,
And when all was ready to start,
I added a touch of thunder –
And the organ fell apart.
John Bingham MORTON 1893_1979 - Dr Strabismus 1949
Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
MORTON J B 1893_1979 mort1_0005_mort1_0000 PWX_MXX The Lost Organ_Seated one day at the organ
The Lost Voice
Seated at Church in the winter
I was frozen in every limb,
And the village choir shrieked wildly
Over a noisy hymn.
I do not know what they were singing,
But while I was watching them
Our Curate began his sermon
With the sound of a slight “Ahem! ”
It frightened the female portion
Like the storm which succeeds a calm,
Both maidens and matrons heard it
With a touch of inane alarm.
It told them of pain and sorrow,
Cold, cough, and neuralgic strife,
Bronchitis and influenza
All aimed at our Curate’s life.
It linked all perplex’d diseases
Into one precious frame;
They trembled with rage if a sceptic
Attempted to ask its name.
They have wrapped him in mustard plasters,
Stuffed him with food and wine,
They have fondled, caressed, and nursed him
With sympathy divine.
It may be that other Curates
Will preach in that church to them,
Will there be every time, Good Heavens!
Such fuss for a slight – Ahem! ?
Author Unknown pseud A.H.S.
Parody Adelaide Anne PROCTER – A Lost Chord
pseud A.H.S. PSah1_0001_proc1_0001 PWX_JXX The Last Voice_Seated at Church in the winter
poem by Jonathan Robin
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Related quotes
A Lost Chord
SEATED one day at the Organ,
I was weary and ill at ease,
And my fingers wandered idly
Over the noisy keys.
I do not know what I was playing,
Or what I was dreaming then ;
But I struck one chord of music,
Like the sound of a great Amen.
It flooded the crimson twilight,
Like the close of an Angel's Psalm,
And it lay on my fevered spirit
With a touch of infinite calm.
It quieted pain and sorrow,
Like love overcoming strife ;
It seemed the harmonious echo
From our discordant life.
It linked all perplexéd meanings
Into one perfect peace,
And trembled away into silence
As if it were loth to cease.
I have sought, but I seek it vainly,
That one lost chord divine,
Which came from the soul of the Organ,
And entered into mine.
It may be that Death's bright angel
Will speak in that chord again,
It may be that only in Heaven
I shall hear that grand Amen.
poem by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Seated one day at the organ, I was weary and ill at ease, and my fingers wandered idly over the noisy keys. It seemed the harmonious echo from our discordant life.
quote by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Just an Organ
It has been stated that the heart is just in organ.
But if it was just in organ why when a person falls in love they can feel that emotion in their heart.
If it was just an organ why when love is lost does the sadness that one feels seem to shatter the heart?
If the heart is just an organ why when a child wins a prize does a parent feel pride in their heart?
The heart is much more than just in organ it is the house of our emotions.
From the emotion of love, and sadness to the pride that swells in each of us.
The heart is not just an organ.
No star is ever lost we once have seen, we always may be what we might have been.
quote by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Violet The Organ Grinder
Chorus:
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I was on my way to another room
When an image of u sweetly
Appeared in the mirror
Perhaps u recall
U and I were neatly
In the middle of a crystal ball
That now serves as a reminder
On the wall of u and I the organ grinder
In the greatest concert of them all
I am violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Did u know that I still have your stockings?
I keep em in a drawer next to your brazier
Come hither, my sweet, lend me your attention,
Come hither lend my your ear
I do believe that my piano was stolen
I do believe that u want me near
Well I can deal with a sucker
If hes in your mouth,
But I cant deal with insincere
Im the one that lives in your heart
U love me, no matter what u say
Swear you dont miss the organ grinder
Grinding on you every day
I am violet the organ grinder (I am violet the organ grinder)
And I grind all the live long day (and I grind all the live long day)
(check this out)
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
I took all the pictures you gave me,
And I placed them right under my bed
And I pumped and I pumped
til the gasm much as jumped
From my feet to the top of my head, oh boy!
Im violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I will not go away
Ooh, wait a minute, I think u better trip on this
Like a puppy, I licked your devotion
From your neck from your eyes from your ears
When you cry, I became your emotion,
And if u ever cry like that again
Ill be here
cause Im violet the organ grinder {chorus in the background}
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that Im grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
Not even...
[peace to the mutha]
(who turned the mother out)
[peace to the mutha]
(who turned the mother out)
I am violet the organ grinder
And I grind all the live long day
I live for the organ, that I am grinding
Ill die, but I wont go away
song performed by by Prince
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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But For Being Lost
As black imbued black, so was rendered the pitch of darkness
That befogged this godforsaken yard of graves -
And too the dank, ‘til now forgotten chapel that
Did little to grace these forlorn grounds.
Yet here stood I, seemingly first to tread this weed-ridden soil
Since times of yore when life had erstwhile blessed this land.
But for being lost in solitude - as does a country wanderer -
Would I not have happened across this morbid landscape.
And though detail rendered barely visible to my naked eye –
For desperately had the moon tried to break through this jet fog –
A sense of something suffused the place.
Was it those tormented spirits desperate for absolution,
Or perhaps the gargoyles teasing me on whether they be of stone or living flesh?
I was drawn to the oak door as it enticingly opened in passage for me.
The organ called from down the nave and through the pale orange of unsteady light
- that which could only be mustered from the few discoloured, moribund candles.
Could I also hear a distant choir of stern voices, as if in effort to scold me?
As I approached, those tarnished pipes came into view.
Standing erect with gothic pride, they bore down on me with patronising air -
Exaggerated by the disjointed sneering of minor chords,
As if to state that insignificant I had henceforth no grant of solace.
In answer, I steadied my rocking legs and racing mind to wonder of this scenario.
And in doing so, I found myself waking from a cramped dream –
Whence the message dawned: mine had been such a claustrophobic life.
Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost
lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost
lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost
lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost
lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost lost
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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All to War
I lost my mother
I lost my father
I lost my brother
And lost my dreams too
I lost my friends
I lost my family
I lost my sister
And lost my will too
I lost my school
I lost my work
I lost my city
And lost my rights too
I lost my day
I lost my night
I lost my sight
And lost my morning dew
(to the soul of every victim of war)
poem by Ezekiel Johnson
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Lost To Find My Lot
Lost in a world, that scares me to death,
Lost in a crowd I’m losing my breath,
Lost as a kid, lost as an adult
I feel everything is falling apart and its my fault
Lost as a person, cant find my way
Lost in life every day, Lost in worry
Who am I?
I’ve lived a Lie
Lost to Kindness,
Lost to Love
Lost in the sky,
Like a lonely dove
Lost in thought which I shouldn’t do
It Winds me up,
I can’t get through
Lost to comfort all kind words
Lost to advice that isn’t heard
Lost to those who really care?
All these people always there
Lost in Me, I need a break
Lost in wonder which road should I take?
Lost in a place I don’t know well
Where are you now? There’s no one to tell
Lost here all alone To break these walls
Lost in mind
Lost in soul
Lost memories, there just a hole
Lost family, lost my place
Still yet I’m full of hate
Lost in boredom think I’ll leave
There’s a lot in life I need to achieve
poem by Olivia Braun
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Lost in everything
Lost in thought
lost in pain
lost in fear
that you can never retain!
Lost in trouble
lost in grief
lost in heartbreak
that you can never relief!
Lost in sorrow
lost in death
lost in misery
That you can never refresh!
Lost in life
lost in words
lost in everything
That you can never return!
Lost in chaos
lost in peace
lost in burdens
that you can never release!
Because these are the things
we think and feel
through the good and the bad
It's a forever done deal!
poem by Katarina Bowman
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A lot of places we go, when they see the organ coming in, they're expecting rock and roll, but after they hear us play they like it. To me, guitar cuts through-it carries more than organ. But organ has got more guts.
quote by Wes Montgomery
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Woman’s Question
BEFORE I trust my fate to thee,
Or place my hand in thine,
Before I let thy future give
Color and form to mine,
Before I peril all for thee, question thy soul to-night for me.
I break all slighter bonds, nor feel
A shadow of regret:
Is there one link within the Past
That holds thy spirit yet?
Or is thy faith as clear and free as that which I can pledge to thee?
Does there within thy dimmest dreams
A possible future shine,
Wherein thy life could henceforth breathe,
Untouch’d, unshar’d by mine?
If so, at any pain or cost, O, tell me before all is lost.
Look deeper still. If thou canst feel,
Within thy inmost soul,
That thou hast kept a portion back,
While I have stak’d the whole;
Let no false pity spare the blow, but in true mercy tell me so.
Is there within thy heart a need
That mine cannot fulfil?
One chord that any other hand
Could better wake or still?
Speak now—lest at some future day my whole life wither and decay.
Lives there within thy nature hid
The demon-spirit Change,
Shedding a passing glory still
On all things new and strange?
It may not be thy fault alone—but shield my heart against thy own.
Couldst thou withdraw thy hand one day
And answer to my claim,
That Fate, and that to-day’s mistake—
Not thou—had been to blame?
Some soothe their conscience thus; but thou wilt surely warn and save me now.
Nay, answer not,—I dare not hear,
The words would come too late;
Yet I would spare thee all remorse,
So, comfort thee, my fate—
Whatever on my heart may fall—remember, I would risk it all!
poem by Adelaide Anne Procter
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I played the organ when I went to military school, when I was 10. They had a huge organ, the second-largest pipe organ in New York State. I loved all the buttons and the gadgets. I've always been a gadget man.
quote by Stephen Sondheim
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Milton
I
Lover of beauty, walking on the height
Of pure philosophy and tranquil song;
Born to behold the visions that belong
To those who dwell in melody and light;
Milton, thou spirit delicate and bright!
What drew thee down to join the Roundhead throng
Of iron-sided warriors, rude and strong,
Fighting for freedom in a world half night?
Lover of Liberty at heart wast thou,
Above all beauty bright, all music clear:
To thee she bared her bosom and her brow,
Breathing her virgin promise in thine ear,
And bound thee to her with a double vow, --
Exquisite Puritan, grave Cavalier!
II
The cause, the cause for which thy soul resigned
Her singing robes to battle on the plain,
Was won, O poet, and was lost again;
And lost the labour of thy lonely mind
On weary tasks of prose. What wilt thou find
To comfort thee for all the toil and pain?
What solace, now thy sacrifice is vain
And thou art left forsaken, poor, and blind?
Like organ-music comes the deep reply:
"The cause of truth looks lost, but shall be won.
For God hath given to mine inward eye
Vision of England soaring to the sun.
And granted me great peace before I die,
In thoughts of lowly duty bravely done."
III
O bend again above thine organ-board,
Thou blind old poet longing for repose!
Thy Master claims thy service not with those
Who only stand and wait for his reward.
He pours the heavenly gift of song restored
Into thy breast, and bids thee nobly close
A noble life, with poetry that flows
In mighty music of the major chord.
Where hast thou learned this deep, majestic strain,
Surpassing all thy youthful lyric grace,
To sing of Paradise? Ah, not in vain
The griefs that won at Dante's side thy place,
And made thee, Milton, by thy years of pain,
The loftiest poet of the Saxon race!
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Joy is like restless day; but peace divine like quiet night; Lead me, O Lord, till perfect Day shall shine through Peace to Light.
quote by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I had been inspired by an organ player named Earl Grant, who played organ and piano together. My mom took me to see him. So I went home, put my piano and organ together, too.
quote by Billy Preston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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We always may be what we might have been.
quote by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I lost
I lost my mother
I lost my father
And Ilost my will too
I lost my my house
I lost my school
I lost my happyness too
I lost my my brother
I lost my sister
I lost my frinds too
I lost my life
And I lost my world too
poem by Celine Avoudikpon
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Lost in Memories
I am lost in this world
I am lost with this fear
I am lost with no sounds
I am lost with out you here
I am lost with out your touch
I am lost with out feelings
I am lost with no lights
I have lost all my senses
I have lost my mind
I have lost every thing in just one night
I have lost my voice and my sight
I may have lost every thing that I hold dear
But I have not lost the memories we shared
poem by Jenna Kelley
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I Lost Her
I lost her...
I lost her smile,
I lost her soft glance,
I lost her loving voice,
I lost her gentle touch,
I lost her warmth,
I lost her pride,
I lost her,
I just lost her in every way.
Though I miss her so much, I have lost her a lot.
(To Mom)
poem by Mirah Adi Kusmarini Putra
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I do not ask, O Lord, that life may be a pleasant road.
quote by Adelaide Anne Procter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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