En.Citatepedia^®.ro

Euterpe

Euterpe thy name is gladness
thou art one of the nine muses
daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne

beautiful goddesses it is thee
who govern the various arts
that stir ornament human life

quicken perceptions
deepen understanding
in quest mind mankind

goddesses associated
with god Apollo
music and healing

Euterpe thou speaks
to poets in lyric poetry
juggling flute music

are your favoured passions
goddess employed spinning
lines poetic in mine spun mind

rejoicing well of delight
in music giver of delight
river dance of sparkling light

See also the poem ‘Midnight Call’.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A poets dream

Hippocrene (hĭ p'ə -kren‘) is a fountain on Mount Helicon, Greece, sacred to the Muses and regarded as a source of poetic inspiration.

Mnemosyne (nemoz'ini) is a titan who is the personification of remembrance. She is the mother of the nine muses: “All nine muses have a science or an art to protect. Cleo protects the stories of heroes, Urania astronomy, Calliope elegies, Melpomene the tragedies, Euterpe flute playing, Erato love poems, Tepsicore choir lyrics, Thalia the comedies and Polyhymnia dance and music.”
“The Muses love to sing and dance. They are superior in musical competitions and any one who dares to challenge them will always fall short, just as those who question their importance.”

In a dream I drink from fount Hippocrene.
The daughters of Zeus and Mnemosyne
Encompass me while I quench. Nine muses
Guarding their arts from human abuses.
'I'm not here to challenge or to question;
Nor I seek material possessions.
My presence among you in this dreamy
State is caused by my love of poetry.
And you, Erato, muse of all love poems
I'm a sleepy poet asleep at home.
It's known by some you sing beautifully.
Would all you muses’ sing a song for me?
My thirst is quenched from draft of drinking cup.
Please! Please sing for me before I wake up.

poem by Albert Ahearn
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Nine Muses So Rapturous

The Lady Muses, nine thou be
Comely, wise, I see such beauty, thine
Daughters of Mnemosyne`s Shrine
Titaness of Memory, Daughters of Gaea

I, aspiring lyrist, thence
See erudite doxies, to accost
Inquire I, without them lost
They requite my homage with their prescience

Calliope, poetess of eloquence and epic
Clio, Muse of history
Erato, composer of lyric poetry
Euterpe, dearest Muse of lyre and music

Melpomene, writes of tragedy
Polyhymnia, sings Her songs so sacred
Terpsichore, of song and dance, well led
Thalia, playwright of the comedy, Urania of Astronomy

Oblations of Flowers, I besprent
To dear Muses, at Pieria born
In revery, Moonlight fades in morn
Yet ne`er The Wisdom, they hath sent

poem by Steve Trimmer
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

To his Friend Master R. L., In Praise of Music and Poetry

If music and sweet poetry agree,
As they must needs (the sister and the brother),
Then must the love be great 'twixt thee and me,
Because thou lov'st the one, and I the other.
Dowland to thee is dear, whose heavenly touch
Upon the lute doth ravish human sense;
Spenser to me, whose deep conceit is such
As, passing all conceit, needs no defence.
Thou lov'st to hear the sweet melodious sound
That Ph{oe}bus' lute (the queen of music), makes;
And I in deep delight am chiefly drown'd
Whenas himself to singing he betakes.
One god is god of both (as poets feign),
One knight loves both, and both in thee remai

poem by Richard Barnfield
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Ode on a Wedgwood Urn

It’s a gentle green in colour,
sits on the shelf, still, contained,
containing, and content;
around it, another world
is playing out its immortal role,
in constant movement which
somehow conveys to us, stillness,
peace; there’s order in that world;

and yes, John, you could well call it,
unravish’d quietness: (you said, once,
in your romantic way, that
you were certain of nothing
but the holiness of the heart's affections,
and the truth of imagination;
here's the urn to prove it..)

erect yet relaxed in pose,
hair in a chignon, one hand
touching her neck, the other
holding a rolled scroll, resting
on what could be a reading desk;
she’s elegant, attentive, sensing, observant,
yet full of sweetest silent thought;
she’s said to be Euterpe,
goddess of lyric poetry;
I should respect her, even beg.

Another graceful figure, also
lightly draped, so that her body
is an open yet modest secret,
plays the lyre to some timeless tune of truth;
another leans upon a rough stone column,
absorbed in what another with up-pointing hand
is telling of what reigns above;
beautiful truth; truthful beauty..

a second lyre rests, unattended yet significant,
upon the ground; as if music’s secret musing
remains always there, even when unplayed;
sweeter when heard to be unheard..

three dance together; their lightness,
grace, and ease are simultaneously
celebration and surrender; their breeze-played draperies
tell us how ethereal our holy bodies are,
caught in the breeze of time;
there’s more to them than meets the eye;
but that’s what eyes are for,
they say to us: to see, to know, they’re there..

trees throw out leaves, as if
they hear the music, dance the dance,
know that upwards is what they grow towards..

there’s an elegant brazier burning there; the scene
is evidently not complete without
the significance of the sacrificial fire;

gentle green upon the shelf,
contained, containing, and content,
it plays out its destiny of gods and goddesses,
muses, graces; unconcerned
whether I should wish to look at it,
admire it, perhaps ask questions of it;
even, live a little of its life…

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Deathless Music!

Music never dies!

There's music

For all occasions!

Music lives

By the noise of

Musical instruments!

Music flourishes

By the poetic lines

Of best poets!

Music for joy

Just as for grief

Lives with man!

Music consoles

Crying child

From birth on!

Music makes all

Slave of sweet sound

Called melody!

All love music

Intellectuals or cowboys

As in movies!

Music occupies

Till the end of life

Of all ever!

poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Music is...

Music is...
Music is expression...
Music is freedom...
Music is the song of life...
Music is notes...
Music is noise...
Music is beat...
Music is relaxing...
Music is peace...
Music is loud...
Music is calm...
Music is meaningful...
Music is sound...
Music is heart...
Music is soul...
Music is mind...
Music is body...
Music is nature...
Music is language...
Music is the song of my life...
Music is everything...
Music is me...
Music is....

poem by Madeline anderson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Music, My Life

Its music that wakes me up every morning
You can hear it even when people are mourning
Its music that makes everything great
By being everyone’s best mate

Its music that brings joy in our lives
With blues, pop and beautiful jives
Its music that makes us strive and run
In fights which are needed to be won

Its music that serves as a guiding light
Helping us cope in days of sorrow and plight
Its music that stands beside us
When we need someone to delight us

Its music that serves as an inspiration
Supporting us always without a reason
Its music that goes best with food and wine
And undoubtedly it is considered divine

Its music that makes us progress
As we finish every task with success
Its music that will combat all our fears
As it is a Goddess for our ears

poem by Rohan Saxena
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

A Music of Poetry!

Grief stricken violin music,
Boasting trumpet music,
Dance inducing guitar music,
Thrilling beats of drum music,
All these and more as words
Making rhythm of poetry
Make all dance to sing songs
Depicting message of poetry
To be amused and enlightened!
Let us all sing and dance as to
The music of heart inspired
By the poetic words forever!
Music, song, dance and poetry
Amuse all with information fine!

poem by Ramesh T A
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

What Is Music

What is music?
What is music?
Is music the languages that shoot out of my mouth and speak in silence?
Is music the moving of my lip according to my mind command?
What is music?
Music is the one two word that my mind put together in my mouth
Music is the airs that escape a snap of my violence teeth
Music is the wisdom sound my mind and mouth produce
Music is the combine sound that entertain my ear drum
What is music?
Music is a simple sound I verbalize to state my joyful soul
Music is the jingle that loosen my soul in time of desire
Music is the sounds that launch me to a free world
Music is the spirit that struggle in me
What is music?
Music is the sound I scream from my mouth to a free humanity
Music is a one two word I yell
Music is the lyric I cry to express my mental mind,
My beating heart
My jumping feet
My shouting soul
My sweating body
What is music?
Music is the rhythm of my voice, what is music? ?

poem by Robert Otim
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Poem That Comes From Hearing The Poem Of Another

The poem that comes from hearing the poem of another
And tries to ride on its rhythm
Like the sea on its own waves-

A forced music finding nowhere in itself a music of its own
Because all the poems are melodies made light by more light
As all the poems are dreams made dreamlike by more dreaming-

And we in our poetic fervor hearing that lyric sound
Go round and round again and again
As if we were the music of the stars
When the universe empirically spherical –

But now in this more deeply instrumented time,
When what we see with our eyes is always less than what we measure
Time and Time again tells us that Space and Space again tell us
That all we are in this long distance darkness
Is one small point of light which in its own sad way will fade out before its music endures-

For the stars have only our imagined music
and not more than the light
of their own violent dying –

So here having heard the poem of another
And open to my own inner voice,
I cry and cry again for another sky and another music
That only God Who is Beyond these earthly hapless sounds
Can Dream and Feel and Know
In the Lyric Ending that justifies our home.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Lost The Music Of My Poetry

I LOST THE MUSIC OF MY POETRY

I lost the music of my poetry
I tried to hear it again
In old lines of my own,
Or in the lines of more musical poets-
Tehillim and Kohleth
Stevens and Keats, Hopkins Wordsworth and Dickinson-
Shakespeare-

But I heard no music of my own
Perhaps I have never really had
A music of my own.

Perhaps all I have had
Is what I have here-

Short lines of prose
Which also have their rhythm-
But are not true poems
And certainly do not sing together
As my soul would.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Midnight Call

Sometimes in the stillness
of the night.
I hear faint voice
call my name.
In quiet peace
protracted hours of day
even in midst
howling rush hour traffic.

I know not
who or where
only I know you call
within deep within I hear.
I hear a feline fluted voice
call echo hauntingly
breath suck silhouette forth
musk lobe secrets siesta perfume.

I hear a haunting female voice
call echo eternally
breath held soul stands forth
bayed before crescent moon.
Clothing I wear is distracted air
worn straining to listen to flute song.
Euterpe wild beautiful word-juggling
addicted goddess I hear I hear.

I hear philosophical primacy of music
conducting symphony
of wondrous universe.
Beating upon my braincells
throughout stilled beauty
of wondrous night.
Sometimes in sterile stillness
of a pregnant night.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Music Is Breath Of Life For Life Artists

those in music for the long haul
are chime web symphony enchanted
because music is an inseparable

part of their intrinsic soul giving being
music is a timeless passion when you feel
reference kiwi artists Tim Finn, Dave Dobbyn

music is breath of life for life artists
music is timeless music which addresses
scale entrapment felt human conditions...

who we are where we are our societies
perceptions of our societies our realities
thinking mind does not outgrow curiosities

interactive sing gifted perceptions
music transforms through generations
insight life quickened mind survives

gift love artistically giving survives
survives immortal ravage time tests
music is breath of life for life artists...

poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Poetry Has Its Own Music

POETRY HAS ITS OWN MUSIC

Poetry has its own music-
A mind empty of it
Wonders where it is.

Poetry has a rhythm of its own
Without that rhythm
Dead words dead lines dead pages.

Seeking the rhythm the music of poetry
Flat lines come
And the poem is a parody
Of true poetry.

How many flat and false poems
Have I written
In order
To help me try
To come alive?

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Inn of Apollo

Have you supped at the Inn of Apollo,
While the last light fades from the West?
Has the Lord of the Sun, at the world's end,
Poured you his ripest and best?
O, there's wine in that Inn of Apollo;

Wine, mellow and deep as the sunset,
With mirth in it, singing as loud
As the skylark sings in a high wind,
High over a crisp white cloud.
Have you laughed in that Inn of Apollo?

Was the whole world molten in music
At once, by the heat of that wine?
Did the stars and the tides and your own heart
Dance with the heavenly Nine?
For they dance in that Inn of Apollo.

Was their poetry croaked by the sages,
Or born in a whisper of wings?
For the music that masters the ages,
Be sure, is the music that sings!
Yes, they sing in that Inn of Apollo.

poem by Alfred Noyes
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

My Feelings On Music

Music
The music flows though me,
It's in me all the time,
never leaving.
It's constantly on my mind

I listen to music all day.
It's beautiful melodies
Dance through my head.
I can't ever get them out,
but I don't mind.

I think about music
and my fingers start to itch.
I want to, I need to let my music out.

I start to play,
Everything falls away.

poem by Lilinoe Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

Music

Music is an art
Music is presided over by the Muses
Music combines sounds in a pleasing way
Music has common elements.

Music has pitch and melody
Music has harmony and rhythm
Music has tempo and meter
Music has sonic qualities of timbre.

Music is euphony or sweet sound
Music has harmonious qualities
Music is inspirational
Music opens the soul.

Music is energizing
Music is enriching
Music makes one happy
Music is relaxing.

Music is soothing
Music is entertainment
Music is lovable
Music is stirring.

Music moves one to tears
Music gives a spark
Music tunes a special memory
Music is a form of therapy.

Music fills with spiritual attunement
Music is a personal experience
Music takes us along the road of life
Music is the corner stone of every society.

poem by Chandra Thiagarajan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

The Poem Has A Music Of Its Own

THE POEM HAS A MUSIC OF ITS OWN

The poem has a music of its own
Without the music
It is no poetry.

My music
Faltering breaking slow
Wonders where it is going
And if it really sounds
As music should sound.

Once it was more easy to feel
The melody in me real.
Now I just do not know
So many sounds
So many words
So many claims of poetry.

Music music music
Where are you?
The sound from myself
Is only 'me' now.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

I Wanted A Poem/But There Was No Poetry In Me

I WANTED A POEM/ BUT THERE WAS NO POETRY IN ME

I wanted a poem
But there was no poetry in me
I said to myself from outside,
‘Write the feeling of a song'
But I had no song within me-

Poetry did not flow
No music moved me
I was alone with a Mind
That had no heart or song-

And then I writing
Simply tried to listen to myself
And what I heard
Was these awkward non- poetic lines
That make a poem
Which is not true poetry
And yet here now
proclaims its own rhythm as this page.

poem by Shalom Freedman
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!

0026 To live in poetry

So often, poets
with their poetic eyes,
ears, minds, hearts, souls,
record actions that
are already poetry or poetic
in themselves
or so it seems
which makes it easy
for poetic poets to write
poetic poetry

as when I watch you
poised so still, sitting there,
your face against the light,
painting meeting sculpture,
still as any animal,
still as any goddess

roaming the cosmos in your mind
seeking, ballpoint poised,
the answer to some hidden
crossword clue

living in poetry

poem by Michael Shepherd
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!