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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Related quotes
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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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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Africa Flute.
Our soul feels the tune of the
Africa flute as it dance it way
through the gentle wind, this
sweet melody supassed our
sorrowfull moments, so hands
gloryfy the full moon, in it we
trust. Tonight we merry with our
gods, so the death are at peace,
through our moves we intorxicate
and communicate with them, their
laughter out sound our voices so the
future is bright. We are the children
of the full moon, and the tune of this
flute made us Africans, and Africa is
our religion..
poem by Enyinwa Okechukwu Enyinwa
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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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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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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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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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~ Game Of Songs ~
GAME OF SONGS
Ms. Nivedita
UK
[To Poet John Knight ~ Christmas poetic nosegays]
December 15,2009.
Standing you’re
On the opposite bank
Of my song,
Ambulant my tunes become
Me, don’t get you.
Breeze is blowing
Oh, oh excellently
Keep anchored the boat
No more.
Cross and come, O Dear
Into the abode of my bosom.
Game of songs with you
Game of distance is,
Me in agony play flute
All the time,
When, O Dear yourself will come
Take my flute to play,
In the dense darkness of
Rapture-full silent night.
-
Adapted from RNT [Ref. to ‘Bliss’ for further info]
------
Copyright reserved by the author
poem by Ms. Nivedita Bagchi Spc. Uk.
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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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Snakes
Open the basket
Listen to the flute play
Open the basket
Listen to the flute play
Toot toot toot toot play
Snakes in the basket
Lie to lead you astray
Snakes in the basket
Force to make you betray
Your innermost truths hid away
Falling down to the underground
As you 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 someones gameplay
Shoot shoot shoot shoot obey
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
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
Falling down to the underground
As you slither down to your lair
Forked tongues spread the poison with a toxic sting
So much pain their serpentine inhibitions bring
song performed by by Gwen Stefani
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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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Muse
In my youth's years, she loved me, I am sure.
The flute of seven pipes she gave in my tenure
And harked to me with smile -- without speed,
Along the ringing holes of the reed,
I got to play with my non-artful fingers
The peaceful songs of Phrygian village singers,
And the important hymns, that gods to mortals bade.
>From morn till night in oaks' silent shade
I diligently harked to the mysterious virgin;
Rewarding me, by chance, for any good decision,
And taking locks aside of the enchanting face,
She sometimes took from me the flute, such commonplace.
The reed became alive in consecrated breathing
And filled the heart with holiness unceasing.
poem by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin
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Hey! I am so restless - Original by Rabindranath Tagore
Hey! I am so restless
I long for the Farthest!
Days go by one by one
I look through the window
To see if He has come –
I want His touch so very much!
O the Farthest, the huge Farthest
Your flute’s music makes me impressed
So I forget I have no wing
And this small earth is my address!
I am absent-minded!
O the huge Farthest
I am indifferent as if I am dead!
In the sunny idle day
Trees make sound and shadows play!
The sky seems like your blue eyes!
If you could come here to stay!
O the Farthest, the huge Farthest
Your flute’s music makes me impressed
So I forget my room is locked
It’s of no use to try my best!
poem by Asif Andalib
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Lord Krishna said
Lord Krishna said once
"Come to me and take no chance"
Listen to the flute
It may dilute
Your hatred
And be never led
By wrong notion
That may break the nations
My flute may sing
Universal brotherhood songs
That may appeal
And make souls to regale
Listen to the music
It may form the basic
There is no hidden magic
It is the only one and unique
I am symbol of love and peace
That can be felt in early breeze
When birds make beautiful and lovely melody
The ears may love to hear to the tune of somebody
Love to hear for few minutes
It may enhance the power and dilute
All irrelevant thoughts in mind
Try for lovely and beautiful world to find
poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Cat Scat
I am watching Cleo listening, our cat
listening to Mozart's Magic Flute. What
can she be hearing? What
can the air carry into her ears like that,
her ears swivelling like radio dishes that
are tuned to all the noise of the world, flat
and sharp, high and low, a scramble of this and that
she can decode like nobody's business, acrobat
of random airs as she is? Although of course a bat
is better at it, sifting out of its acoustic habitat
the sound of the very shape of things automat-
ically-- and on the wing, at that. The Magic Flute! What
a joy it is, I feel, and wonder (to the end this little scat)
doe , or can, the cat.
poem by Eamon Grennan
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The Melody
The youth in the woods spent the whole day long,
The whole day long;
For there he had heard such a wonderful song,
Wonderful song.
Willow-wood gave him a flute so fair,
A flute so fair,--
To try, if within were the melody rare,
Melody rare.
Melody whispered and said: "I am here!"
Said: "I am here!"
But while he was listening, it fled from his ear,
Fled from his ear.
Oft when he slept, it to him crept,
It to him crept;
And over his forehead in love it swept,
In love it swept.
When he would seize it, his sleep took flight,
His sleep took flight;
The melody hung in the pallid night,
In the pallid night.
"Lord, O my God, take me therein,
Take me therein!
The melody rare all my soul doth win,
My soul doth win."
Answered the Lord: "'T is your friend alone,
Your friend alone;
Though never an hour you it shall own,
You it shall own."
poem by Bjørnstjerne Bjørnson
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0245 The Sound of The Flute
Listen to the sound of this reed-flute –
hear what it says. First, it laments
its banishment; its tearing away
from its home, its reed-bed. And
this alone, tears at the yearning heart
of all those whose heart feels far from home.
Listen to it.
Then behind its breathy air
is fire – the fire of love; that sound
which tells every love-story in the world,
of lovers, parted, yearning to be
together once more. This flute first
tells of separation; then of unity.
Listen to it.
Do not listen to this dangerous
flute, unless you wish to hear
the innermost secrets of your heart –
the parting and the separation,
the yearning, yearning, for return –
Dare you listen to this story of pain, of love?
Listen to it.
(freely taken from the Prologue to Book I of the Masnavi I Ma’navi
of Maulana Jalalu’din Muhammad Rumi, the founder Dervish)
poem by Michael Shepherd
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Japa-yajna
Carrier wave; sine curve; you see it
on the heartscan lifescreen
in the intensive care ward
as if with no regard for you
it’s self-sufficient; sufficient to the self;
the same curve that the flute’s note makes onscreen,
pure as Krishna’s smile; his lips
making breath into sound
hear that, hear that which
runs day and night; repetition
that always never does repeat
and only when you’re still
will you know with Krishna
the sound of inner sacrifice
that never ends and yet
so pure it’s given beyond sought;
flute’s sound beyond all sound;
how still the room is now.
poem by Michael Shepherd
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