Same Words They Heard
It is said.
And said again.
The more of it that is heard...
Less of it is understood.
Although those sitting in the back,
Claim they are taking notes.
And wish to have what has been said,
Repeated.
Even though the notes they take...
Are the same words they heard,
Before they were issued pads and pens.
They now want to show others...
How effectively they can use them,
To their advantage.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Let's Compare Notes
Let's compare notes.
At one time you had said,
My comments provoked!
And you denounced,
Those words I spoke!
Let's compare notes.
Today you raise the same concerns.
And yet you say to others...
With the same words they have already heard.
But now you have a broader consciousness.
Let's compare notes!
What you say today,
Is 'intended' to provoke.
But you believe there should be an exception...
Since 'you' have been awakened from a deep sleep.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Where Are My Songs?
Where are my songs?
I can't write them anymore.
My head can't hear them,
not like before.
They came so easy.
I heard them in my ear.
I thought about you
and all the notes were clear.
But now those notes
just don't seem to flow.
They've escaped into dissonance
and where did they go?
They went away in a flash
just like you.
Now that they're gone
there's nothing I can do.
I'll have to be inspired
in another way.
I'll listen for some new notes
on every single day.
And when they appear
I'll know that I am free.
Never again will I lose them
like you lost me.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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The Source
There in the fringe of trees between
the upper field and the edge of the one
below it that runs above the valley
one time I heard in the early
days of summer the clear ringing
six notes that I knew were the opening
of the Fingal's Cave Overture
I heard them again and again that year
and the next summer and the year
afterward those six descending
notes the same for all the changing
in my own life since the last time
I had heard them fall past me from
the bright air in the morning of a bird
and I believed that what I had heard
would always be there if I came again
to be overtaken by that season
in that place after the winter
and I would wonder again whether
Mendelssohn really had heard them somewhere
far to the north that many years ago
looking up from his youth to listen to
those six notes of an ancestor
spilling over from a presence neither
water nor human that led to the cave
in his mind the fluted cliffs and the wave
going out and the falling water
he thought those notes could be the music for
Mendelssohn is gone and Fingal is gone
all but his name for a cave and for one
piece of music and the black-capped warbler
as we called that bird that I remember
singing there those notes descending
from the age of the ice dripping
I have not heard again this year can it
be gone then will I not hear it
from now on will the overture begin
for a time and all those who listen
feel that falling in them but as always
without knowing what they recognize
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Unknown Bird
Out of the dry days
through the dusty leaves
far across the valley
those few notes never
heard here before
one fluted phrase
floating over its
wandering secret
all at once wells up
somewhere else
and is gone before it
goes on fallen into
its own echo leaving
a hollow through the air
that is dry as before
where is it from
hardly anyone
seems to have noticed it
so far but who now
would have been listening
it is not native here
that may be the one
thing we are sure of
it came from somewhere
else perhaps alone
so keeps on calling for
no one who is here
hoping to be heard
by another of its own
unlikely origin
trying once more the same few
notes that began the song
of an oriole last heard
years ago in another
existence there
it goes again tell
no one it is here
foreign as we are
who are filling the days
with a sound of our own
poem by William Stanley Merwin
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Radio Adelaide
you'll never see a straight face from me
i've got a problem showing emotion
and sucking up my guts
you'll never get an answer from me
i always keep it stuck in my head
a million words i could have said
you say you're so overwhelmed with me
and it's because of me
don't you say, you know i heard you said you know
don't you say, you know anything about me
don't you say, you know i heard you said you know
don't you say, you know anything about me
i'll never show you my frustrations
are left to guarding me to hold it back
i find it hard to just relax
please disriguard my opinion
i try to only care when i'm asked
it helps to get off my chest
you say you're so overwhelmed with grief
and it's because of me
so,
don't you say, you know i heard you said you know
don't you say, you know anything about me
don't you say, you know i heard you said you know
don't you say, you know anything about me
the point has been right in front of you, in plain view
the past it does not only repeat
it holds you,
i can't
get you the words you say,out of my head
out of my head
don't you say, you know i heard you said you know
don't you say, you know anything about me
don't you say, you know i heard you said you know
don't you say, you know anything about me
song performed by by New Found Glory
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Voice
One feather is a bird,
I claim; one tree, a wood;
In her low voice I heard
More than a mortal should;
And so I stood apart,
Hidden in my own heart.
And yet I roamed out where
Those notes went, like the bird,
Whose thin song hung in air,
Diminished, yet still heard:
I lived with open sound,
Aloft, and on the ground.
That ghost was my own choice,
The shy cerulean bird;
It sang with her true voice,
And it was I who heard
A slight voice reply;
I heard; and only I.
Desire exults the ear:
Bird, girl, and ghostly tree,
The earth, the solid air--
Their slow song sang in me;
The long noon pulsed away,
Like any summer day.
poem by Theodore Roethke
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Rhapsody Unshackled (Serious Adult Content)
Few have heard the distant
ecstatic melody:
The slaves heard it
as their pursuers closed in on them,
The political prisoner heard it
as he lay dying in his filthy cell,
Holocaust victims heard it
as they listened to the hiss of gas,
The kidnapped hostage heard it
as the blade touched his neck.
First faint notes,
then a rumbling deep in the earth.
A joyous song
rises like a cloud in the air,
Finally, a promise thunders
in the soul,
There is no death,
You shall be free,
there is deliverance,
there is another land!
poem by Mary Naylor
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Unforgettable In Your Ear
There are notes in music
that take you high.
And notes that take you low.
When you listen to the notes of music
you never know where you'll go.
Within one song the notes you hear
affect how you will feel.
A plaintive melody might make you sad
or remind you of your pain.
But all of that can change in a minute
as you feel your emotions drain.
Uplifting notes can bring to you
a few moments of ecstatic peace.
Each inspiring strain can take you where
you are able to release
whatever it was that was troubling you,
erase it for a minute or two.
These notes are magic and so is life.
They're there and then they're not.
They're a gift to you from composers
that plant a forget-me-not.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Divine Bird
i would skp the best musical concert
to listen one more time to this morning bird
it makes me regret for not having been
a bird watcher and getting to know the name
of every bird and how every bird makes sure
they shine their best in voice rather than feathers
for feathers are just for a show of form but the
voice how well they have cultivated themselves
with the bountiful freedoms strewn below their wings
it was only two mornings ago, i first heard him
sing in among the many trees lining the boulevard
outside my condominium, the Crescent Court
the enchanting haunting notes of his song shocked
me into wondering whether it was really a bird that
sang those pristine notes, notes that seemed to have
streamed out of the sacred sanctum of God, so many
diverse notes, so well handled, they sounded
like a song written by the Divine for one special bird
one most holy entree to the dawn of a new day
i prayed to the Divine to allow me hear that bird
again, a bird that has sung his way into my my poem,
a bird probably from another realm where birds could
understand the workings of the heavens better than men
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Memory
Soon the waves so lightly bounding
All forget the tempest blast;
Soon the pines so sadly sounding
Cease to mourn the storm that's past.
Soon is hushed the voice of gladness
Heard within the green wood's breast;
Yet come back no notes of sadness,
No remembrance breaks its rest.
But the heart,—how fond t'will treasure
Every note of grief and joy!
Oft come back the notes of pleasure,
Grief's sad echoes oft annoy.
There still dwell the looks that vanish
Swift as brightness of a dream;
Time in vain earth's smiles may banish,
There undying still they beam.
poem by Jones Very
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Today... 'Word of Life
I heard the Word of Life speak to me
He opened my eyes so I could see.
New life sprang up in me that day
When I heard the Words He had to say.
'This is how much I love you, ' He cried
as He stretched out His arms so wide.
For He had died so that I might live
The Word of Life cried 'Father forgive'
(see also the additional information in the Poet's notes box below)
The Last Song
The last song that I shall write
will probably never be heard.
For I shall dream it in the night,
both the notes and the word.
I’m certain it will be the best of the lot
and be heard only by me.
That thought ties me in a knot
from which I am not free.
Will it be fast? Will it be slow?
Will it be smooth and sensual
or maybe a crisp staccato?
No more song after that.
It will shut my music down.
And I will content myself after
with the knowing that all I’ve written
was with passion for the sound.
For I’ve heard these sounds
since I was born
on a cold and blustery Wednesday morn.
I came into this world with music
and will leave with it someday.
And the last song will travel with me
and be heard in the Milky Way.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Opening Joke
If I wanted to please everyone...
I'd tell them how fantastic and beautiful they are.
You know...
That stuff folks expect to hear.
Especially out in public.
But geeeesssshhh...
Glancing at this crowd...
I know I have to be honest.
Since I expect most of them,
Would be hearing it for the first time.
And I can see there are lots of folks been lied to...
Sittin' up in here!
You got another pair of sunshades?
And even more would think my honesty,
To be controversial, direct and humorless.
Delivered from the embittered lips,
Of a black man fighting back his anger.
How did truth and honesty,
Become associated with bitterness in the first place?
They get enough amusement anyway.
Some of that stuff that goes on today is so hysterical...
It goes on unacknowledged.
Don't worry!
I've come prepared with an opening joke about economics.
That should rivet them to their seats!
Especially the ones sitting in the front taking notes...
Accustomed to being in seminars.
'Folks...
The topic this evening will be,
'How to Barter and Ghettomize My Pretensions'
Some of you taking notes,
Will find the subject matter rewarding.
IF you already know how to boogey and 'git' down! '
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Notes
Primate, elemental, spontaneous and emotional;
The point of drunkeness is what i see around me,
But i do have my notes for you.
This is like the quasi-mystical secrets cilts,
And there arose the fear of the society;
But you have to cry for help when being cheated!
With others living in a turquoise-roofed temples,
Because the notes of this world are not always equal.
Geomancy and physiognomy with the notes,
But be very conscious of the parallels like the mandates of the heavens! !
For they are armed to the teeth and i am only around with my ink,
But i do have the notes about this world for you only to learn from.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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These Three Words
When was the last time
That they heard you say
Mother or father, I love you
And when was the last time
That they heard you say
Daughter or son, I love you
Ones you say you cherish everyday
Can instantly be taken away
Then youd say I know this cant be true
When you never took the time
To simply tell them I love you
When was the last time
That they heard you say
Sister or brother, I love you
And when was the last time
That they heard you say
Darling or best friend, I love you
The one for whom youd give your very life
Could be taken in the twinkling of an eye
Through your tears youd ask why did you go
Knowing youd didnt always show
Just how much you loved them so
These three words
Sweet and simple
These three words
Short and kind
These three words
Always kindles
An aching heart to smile inside
I know a family
Who hasnt a cent to their name
And yet the joy and love they have between them
They always claim
And when ones called from life
The survived mourn the lost
And will never be the same
Yet they rejoice
In knowing they gave them their all
These three words
Sweet and simple
These three words
Short and kind
These three words
Always kindles
(repeat and fade)
song performed by by Stevie Wonder
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Since in music we deal with notes, not words, with chords, with transitions, with color and expression, the musical meaning always based on those notes as written and nothing else - has to be divined.
quote by Claude Arrau
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Havent You Heard
Havent you heard
Daddys gone crazy
Havent you heard momma is gone
Here I stand with my finger on his door bell
My mind goes back to what I did last night
You see I finally talked his wife into leaving him
And I am just here to convince my conscious that its all alright
And I can see my old friend just sitting there staring and his little boys
Crying words are welded in my mind
Havent you heard daddys gone crazy
Havent you heard momma is gone
And either way I am a loser
And Ive been crying all night long mr. havent you heard
Havent you heard daddys gone crazy
Havent you heard momma is gone
And either way I am a loser
And Ive been crying all night long mr. havent you heard
song performed by by George Strait
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Veery
THE MOONBEAMS over Arno’s vale in silver flood were pouring,
When first I heard the nightingale a long-lost love deploring.
So passionate, so full of pain, it sounded strange and eerie;
I longed to hear a simpler strain,—the wood-notes of the veery.
The laverock sings a bonny lay above the Scottish heather;
It sprinkles down from far away like light and love together;
He drops the golden notes to greet his brooding mate, his dearie;
I only know one song more sweet,—the vespers of the veery.
In English gardens, green and bright and full of fruity treasure,
I heard the blackbird with delight repeat his merry measure:
The ballad was a pleasant one, the tune was loud and cheery,
And yet, with every setting sun, I listened for the veery.
But far away, and far away, the tawny thrush is singing;
New England woods, at close of day, with that clear chant are ringing:
And when my light of life is low, and heart and flesh are weary,
I fain would hear, before I go, the wood-notes of the veery.
poem by Henry Van Dyke
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Pads, Paws And Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
"come on little honey, let me under your hive"
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Pads, Paws & Claws
Shes a feline tormentor, not any vaudeville wife
But with a drunk-town lament he leads her a miserable life
But when hes full of that beer-champagne
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
And if he should wake up in some terrible dive
And he dont know if hes so-so
But hes so surprised hes alive
Come on little honey, let me under your hive
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, pads around the bedroom, practicing ways to flirt
He paws, pours another drink and anything in a skirt
Anything wearing a necklace
He thinks of claws scratching his back hes
Going out there hes not coming back
Shes got spider-leg fingers, sharpened whenever he strays
And she carries a bird-purse, with all of her womanly ways
til hes drinking hairspray, she knows that he never would dare
She could be in pictures if she wasnt all covered in fur
Hes coming home now and heres the surprise
You wouldnt believe the lies that he tries
She cut him down to her favourite size
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
She pads, paws, pads, paws and claws
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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