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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Related quotes
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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We decided to do some of Merle's things with modern instrumentation. We used a flute, a bass clarinet, a trumpet, a clarinet, drums, a guitar, vibes and a piano.
quote by Tennessee Ernie Ford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Then when I was in grammar school I played the clarinet, and then, after clarinet I played the flute in college orchestra - besides singing in the college chorus and things like that.
quote by Bobby McFerrin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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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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The soprano has all those other instruments in it. It's got the soprano song voice, flute, violin, clarinet, and tenor elements and can even approach the baritone in intensity.
quote by Steve Lacy
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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All flute-players are mad; when once they begin to blow, away goes reason.
Begotten
No stealing is allowed when you meet him,
The son of his is condemned for being him.
A thief is excellent due to poor health,
But when he is begotten, the wealth is contrived.
One is amazed by the flute of freedom,
Singing like itself with profuse melody;
The begotten son amazes me when not stolen
Like the sound so erred by those insignificant ones.
The stealing of the piccolo deserves mention,
One talked to the highness of some. The ones
Who rule shall gain a wonder, from all this bounty.
poem by Naveed Akram
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Blowjob For Marvin
she likes something long
and thick something she can
pull like a shiny, silvery pole
but she prefers
something golden really
one that is like a
precious gem
metallic in strength
one where she can
blow with all her
might, where she can
expel her sighs of the
day her loneliness
for the nights
one that can also be
musical to her ears
where her locks of hair
can dance wild
like disco and hip hop
the trumpet of
her dreams
or the trombone
of her wishes
of the clarinet
or the flute
this lady who loves
to play
music in her
dark room
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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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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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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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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Sufi
A broken reed. No longer
its feet in earth, its stalk in water;
what will become of it?
Taken by grace; cut; shaped
into new name, new form;
breathed into it, the breath of life;
the breath, heard by a song
unmanifest, that waits to be born
from cause to mind to sound:
how can this sound be described,
the joy of broken reed now flute?
Now the reed can sing; speaks
of how it cried its loss;
yearned to find itself again;
knowing in its heart
that wholeness waits, somewhere, for ever;
now it sings for joy, so purely that
no ears, no heart, can resist its call;
nevermore to part the reed, the flute, the song.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Chasing Their Dreams
No one or anyone prevented them,
From chasing their dreams...
No!
No one would.
No!
No one could.
And when anyone has material things,
That glistens their bling...
A way is found to obtain them,
Legitimately.
Or, clandestine to shine in their minds.
'Cause...
No one can intervene or prevent,
One who is chasing dreams...
No!
No one would.
No!
Or stop them if they could.
No one can or prevent one who is...
Chasing their dreams...
No!
No one would,
If they...
Thought they could.
And then a time comes when achievements,
Have been done...
That one will wish for a life simplistic,
With someone.
Remembered from a past that was happy and basic,
But...
They left them fast to chase,
After their dreams.
OH...
No one or anyone prevented them,
From chasing their dreams...
No!
No one would.
No!
No one could.
OH...
No one or anyone prevented them,
From chasing their dreams...
No!
No one would.
No!
No one could.
And today a basicness is wished,
But...
No one or anyone prevented them,
From chasing their dreams...
No!
No one would.
No!
No one could.
Today a basicness is wished,
But...
Chasing their dreams,
Left them...
Caught up in schemes.
And...
No one could prevent them,
From...
Chasing their dreams...
No!
No one would.
No!
No one could.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Chasing A Memory
I thought i saw you
In the carriage of a train
I ran the platform
It wasn't you.
Yet I carried on in vain
Chasing a memory.
I thought I heard you
Say, 'Kevin i love you'
As I stood
A dreamer in a supermarket queue
I turned around
To misty visions of you.
And my heart still skipped a beat
Chasing a memory
With crippled feet.
I thought I felt
Your softest kiss upon my cheek
I went to hug you
And heard a lost angel speak.
Then I caught your scent
Duelling with blue moonbeams
For joy that came and went.
Chasing a memory
Of ascending dreams
Already tragically spent.
poem by Kevin East
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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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Divine Flute
divine flute
the delicate
sounds of divinity
and deception
float through
the air like a twin
still for the
true hearted
they are on
the other
side of the
fence of
each other
heaven
hell
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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