Seviglia
'As funny as Mozart
but without the 'trauma',
complained my opera-loving friend.
'Rossini's not my cup of tea'.
Frankly, I prefer the drama
of the heart's lament-
the thoughtful tune-behind-the-tree,
the mad, masked, moon-lit love chase
through the labyrinthine garden
where all dangers are mock
and the libertine gets his due-
What do you think'?
'Yes, yes, yes, perhaps, I agreed, 'all that,
but then, today,
Damrau is singing'.
poem by Morgan Michaels
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Related quotes
Libertine
When she walked in the room
You could faint from the strong perfume
And she said her name was libertine
In my ear, a voice said dont be a fool stay clear,
Better stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
So I stayed out of view
But my eyes couldnt come unglued
I was hypnotized by libertine
So in time I broke down and I lost my mind
Then I made a move on libertine
Stay away from libertine
Made a move on libertine
Stay away from libertine
I made my move on libertine
And I waited all night
til the timing was right
For another man was reaching for her hand
But he went to the phone
And when I got her alone
It just wasnt the same
Tell me whats in a name?
She made me drunk with her charms
Then she left on her husbands arm
And I got the shaft from libertine
I was weak and I know just from whence I speak,
Better stay away from libertine
Stay away from libertine
song performed by by Utopia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Trauma...
having heard that you had trauma
falling on the busy street with no one helping
in a bit, i cannot really relate,
but i remember in that big city where i once lived
trauma is everywhere
even in the restaurants where new lovers dine
even in boulevards where yachts love their rest
even in bed where love is invented
trauma has become a way of life
like breakfast and special dinners
like waking up
in some ways when another person jumps from
the 13th floor and then you hear the ambulance screaming
you simply dismiss this as another daily routine
and so you close the window
and watch the soap opera on TV
lying on the sofa
your thoughts focusing on the most trivial matter
that is more of
another trauma.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Singing Tree
(words & music by owens - solberg)
Youre the one who beckoned the wind
And fanned the flame when our love began
So dont pretend you dont know me
Our names are carved on you, singing tree
Oh singing tree
Sing to me
Call your friend
The roving wind
Maybe he can find my love
And bring her back, singing tree
Your leaves have turned from green to blue
Sometimes I think you loved her too
But since she left and our love died
You stand petrified, singing tree
Oh sing to me
Singing tree
Call your friend
The roving wind
Maybe he can find my love
And bring her back, singing tree
Oh sing to me
Singing tree
Call your friend
The roving wind
Maybe he can find my love
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Funny
-artist: nat king cole
-peak billboard position # 26 in 1952
-words and music by marcia neal, philip f. broughton, bob merrill, and hughie
-prince
Funny, how i've stopped loving you
I can pass you on the street and my heart don't skip a beat
Not much, so much my eyes wanna cry
Funny, how i've stopped loving you
I can listen to your name and it doesn't start a flame
Not much, so much my heart wants to die
Now that you're standing here, darling, i don't shed a tear
This is just the rain in my eyes
And if i have proved to you everything i say is true
Please help me believe my own lies
Funny, how i've stopped loving you
And it's funny i don't miss all the heaven in your kiss
Your touch, no i don't love you, not much
Funny, how i've stopped loving you
And it's funny i don't miss all the heaven in your kiss
Your touch, no i don't love you, not much
No i don't love you, not much
song performed by by Nat King Cole
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That was my way, and I also use the music after five years, I started hearing opera, opera, it was very good instrument to keep the spirit very strong because you feel like you are yourself singing opera, and I used to hear a lot of opera, they send me tapes.
quote by Mordechai Vanunu
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Loving Tree
Three women walked upon a road,
And the first said airily,
“Of all the trees in all the world
Which is the loving tree?”
The second said, “My eyes have seen
No tree that is not fair;
But the Orange tree is the sweetest tree,
The loving blood is there.”
And the third said, “In the green time
I knew a loving tree
That gave a drink of the blood-red milk,
It was the Mulberry.”
Then the first one said, “Of all the trees
No sweetest can I name;
Ask her who yonder slowly comes—
That woman lean and lame.”
Grief like a hideous suckling hung
Along her hollow breast,
Pain was upon her as she walked,
And as she stooped to rest.
“Why will you question so?” she said,
“Is it to mock at me?
For how should I, who walk in Hell,
Know of a loving tree?
“My eyes are not as woman's eyes,
They hope not east or west:
Dull Famine my bed-mate is,
And Loneliness my guest.
“ 'Tis not the most delicious flower
That leaves the scent of Spring,
Nor is it yet the brightest bird
That loads his heart to sing.
“A tree may dance in the white weather
Or dream in a blue gown,
A tree may sing as a sweetheart
To bid the stars come down:
“Some trees are slim and lovable
And some are sleek and strong,
But the tree that has the cripple's heart
Will know the cripple's song.
“The sweetest death is the red death
That comes up nakedly,
And the tree that has the foiled heart
It is the loving tree.
“While ever lip shall seek for lip,
While ever light shall fall,
The tree that has the ruined heart
Is tenderest of all.
“Oh, ye may have your men to kiss,
And children warm to hold,
But the heart that had the hottest love
Was never yet consoled.”
The women three walked on their way,
Their shamed eyes could see
How well the tree with the foiled heart
Is still the loving tree.
poem by John Shaw Neilson
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Thank You For The Thought
THIS POEM IS DEDICATED TO MY 'DJ' BEST FRIEND
Thank you my friend for the text,
For asking me how I am today,
For telling me how things are there,
Thank you for the thought, my friend.
Thank you my friend for the text,
For asking about my plans for the occasion;
For asking for a little of my time so you can call,
My friend, Thank you for the thought.
Thank you my friend for the call,
For finding time to call me up;
For spending money to find out how I am,
Thank you for the thought my friend.
Thank you my friend for the forward mails
You so untiringly send when you think
They can make me smile and say a little prayer;
Thank you for the thought my friend.
Thank you my friend for the friendship,
For the patience to listen when I whine,
For the tolerance to my shortcomings,
For reminding me to always take care of myself,
Thank you for the thought my friend.
Masked Lady
Dec.30,2009
poem by Masked lady
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Pierrot
Pierrot stands in the garden
Beneath a waning moon,
And on his lute he fashions
A fragile silver tune.
Pierrot plays in the garden,
He thinks he plays for me,
But I am quite forgotten
Under the cherry tree.
Pierrot plays in the garden,
And all the roses know
That Pierrot loves his music, --
But I love Pierrot.
poem by Sara Teasdale
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One can't judge Wagner's opera Lohengrin after a first hearing, and I certainly don't intend to hear it a second time.
quote by Gioachino Rossini
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Homeowners and business owners across the country agreed to pay premiums, communities agreed to adopt building codes to mitigate flood dangers, and the Federal Government agreed to provide insurance coverage to policyholders after a disaster.
Well, opera began with an intent to resuscitate Greek drama, that is, modern opera as we know it.
quote by John Eaton
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Wayward Wolf and Winter Owl
The wayward wolf howls to the misty moon,
His heart filled with sorrow,
That he spills into dead of night,
And echoes into silence of another cry,
Never stopping to let his weary feet rest,
Intensifying his cry.
The winter owl soars below the hollow moon,
Singing its sad tune,
Into sight as it sings and sighs,
Catching the sight of a wayward weary eye,
Together they meet and greet the rising of the dreary moon,
Filling their songs with the tune of the morrow,
Blending their hearts and souls in the tune of the morning’s morrow.
‘Till the moon doth rise again
poem by Talia Anziliero
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Passing Through Air
Passing through air.
You mix the stars with your arms.
Walking through there.
The doom of eternity balms.
Skies of grey are not today.
Oh! Don't you throw my love away,
I need your loving, I need your loving.
Oh! Don't you pour down rain today,
I need your love, I need your care
So much, so much, so much!
Laughing through smiles.
You lick my love with the years.
Walking for miles.
You cool my brow with your tears.
Skies of greay are not today.
Oh! Don't you throw my love away,
I need your loving, I need your loving.
Oh! Don't you pour down rain today,
I need your love, I need your care
So much, so much, so much!
Oh! Don't you throw my love away,
I need your loving, I need your loving.
Oh! Don't you pour down rain today,
I need your loving, I need your loving.
Oh! Don't you throw my love away,
I need your loving, I need your loving.
Oh! Don't you pour down rain today,
I need your loving, I need your loving.
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Directing an opera is similar to directing a play. The singing must not get in the way of the drama.
quote by Bruce Beresford
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Its Funny...
Its Funny...
When im happy I have a bad day
Its Funnny,
That when I wish it was hot it snowed
Its Funny,
That when the world is finally at peace War begins
Its Funny,
When I fancy Chicken my mum cooks pork
Its Funny,
When I get a new phone It breaks
Its Funny,
When I tell my friend a secret and politely ask her not to tell a soul but she does anyway
Its Funny,
When my mate does something wrong I get in trouble
Its Funny,
I want to watch a movie on T.V but theres a powercut from start to finish
Its Funny,
When I ask for a cat for my birthday, I get a fish
Its Funny,
When I say I love you
You reply....I love you too and I always will
poem by MeganOlivia Maxwell
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An odd little girl (for Karen)
I am a funny little girl
with little piggy eyes.
I have a rounded tummy
and rather rotund thighs
In my heart I'm beautiful
if only you would see
but no one ever looks inside
to find the real, true me.
I sit here by my desk at school
with no friend by my side
I'd love someone to talk to
but they all mock and chide.
One day they'll want to know me
some day when I am grown
but for now I'll be content
to sit here on my own.
I'm a funny little girl
with freckles and a grin.
I'm really fun to play with
but not too good at gym.
I love to cuddle puppies
and help folk with their chores
and if you'd only talk to me
I'd tell you lots, lots more.
poem by Ruth Walters
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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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The Surfer Moon
Theres a moon in the sky somewhere I know
Waiting for all the love to burn below
If you fall and it happens all to soon
Blame it all on the surfer moon
neath the hill hind the cloud one dreamy night
Rising up throwing down its golden light
If your heart hears this melancholy tune
Then youll know its the surfer moon
Brings the tide in
Takes it all away
Helps us ride in
Brings us waves each day
I say
Other moons have brought light and love before
Promising to remain for evermore
But they all disappeared with each new tune
They make way for the surfer moon
Moon
Moon
Moon
Moon
song performed by by Beach Boys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Today I Started Loving You Again
There was a time when
I thought that our love was failing.
Then you got ill and nearly died,
and I found out how a lonely life would be,
so today I started loving you again.
The sun in my life began to shine again,
the roses in our garden even started to bloom,
my life began to lift me higher,
and our home is a battleground no more,
for today, I started loving you again.
Never will I doubt our love again.
We have something so precious;
I would be a fool to let it go.
I now realise the consequences.
So today, I started loving you again.
6 August 2007
poem by David Harris
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A Nighbor Singing Out Of Tune
at first one feels that this disturbance is killing all the
the animate things
alive in this small community
singing out of tune, again, but no one really has the temerity
to make him stop, for he is at the height of recreating himself
recomposing
from an old form of sadness, we all understand his art of
reverberating what destroys him and now
he sings
that is the most important thing, look they say, do you hear him singing?
loving neighbors, oh, how happy their hands are, clapping clasping
for another broken heart has healed itself
after days and days of bleeding
profusely
i am listening, and deep within my own feelings of woe
woe relating to woe,
there is this light though dim,
yet it appears so bright
to the incalculable depth of the
heart
and too pleasing to the heart is the sound of a broken song,
the soul of the out of tune, we always say
welcome, welcome, we're with you, in all these.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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