A guitar in Jazz B

Here is a funny limerick about a guitar in jazz B. If you have ever been in a big band jazz band, you'll find this funny. Just a heads up for those that dont, guitars are treated as the least important instrument and the bass as the king of jazz. Enjoy.

There once was a guitar in jazz band B

Who was tired of people who did not see

The guitar was missing during the concert, after the applause

When asked why the bad sound and what the problem was

The director replied, there was no bass amp for jazz band B

Heavenly Sound

Here is a cinquian about music. Short, simple, but encompasses what music truly is. Enjoy.

Music

Heavenly sound

Could listen forever

By harmony perfect bound

Melody

Autumn Shade (Excerpt) By Edgar Bower

Here is a lovely poem by Edgar Bower, talking about autumn and music. Enjoy this excerpt from Autumn Shade. 

Nights grow colder. The Hunter and the Bear

Follow their tranquil course outside my window.

I feel the gentian waiting in the wood,

Blossoms waxy and blue, and blue-green stems

Of the amaryllis waiting in the garden.

I know, as though I waited what they wait,

The cold that fastens ice about the root,

A heavenly form, the same in all its changes,

Inimitable, terrible, and still,

And beautiful as frost. Fire warms my room.

Its light declares my books and pictures. Gently,

A dead soprano sings Mozart and Bach.

I drink bourbon, then go to bed, and sleep

In the Promethean heat of summer’s essence.

This is a lovely, imageful poem about the change of summer to autumn, and then to winter. Beautiful imagery used captivates the reader and paints a vivid picture in his mind. "The cold that fastens ice about the root" an example of personification and imagery together. And at the end, nice allusions to greek mythology "In the Promethean heat of summer’s essence." Overall a great poem.

 

Music Heavenly

Another creative name for my poem. This time a vilanelle. Enjoy

O beautiful music heavenly

The world without you would be so cold

O music which I could listen endlessly

 

The notes that you play pleasantly

As the lovely song unfolds

O beautiful music heavenly

 

Now comes, flowing freely, the melody

Thy song so sweet, thy tune of gold

O music which I could listen endlessly

 

Thy song taking twists creatively

Thy song once meek, and once bold

O beautiful music heavenly

 

Thy music, played so affectionately

That any person should behold,

O music which I could listen endlessly

 

Though many unsung songs pleasantly

The music chamber holds,

O beautiful music heavenly

O music which I could listen endlessly

Music

Hey guys, so this is  a free verse by Sasha Dordzijev. Obviously it is about music, hence the uncreative title of music. It describes through imagery and appealing to feelings how a person listens to music with all his heart, his whole soul. Enjoy

Music

I hear it

Not with my ears

With my soul

I embrace it

Let it run through my soul

Becoming one with the music

Feeling it deep inside

Flowing through me

Its emotions become mine

I embrace it

Become one with it

Become engulfed

By Music

Look Not Far

Hey guys, here is an original poem called Look Not Far. This poem was a real challenge to me. Firstly, I wanted there to be an 8 6 8 6 rhythm, which after some dictionary work and grammar bending I was able to do. However I also wanted there to be a ABAB rhyme scheme. Now, the first stanza worked, however after that, the next two couplets just didnt look like the rhyme was going to work, without me saying less than what I wanted to say. So I just gave up, and got back to the rhyme in the last couple of stanzas, although yes I cheated and used the same words for the rhyme. But I think that this poem is more about the words and less about the rhyme scheme. Obviously this poem is about a musician wanting to write a song, but not finding any inspiration. Enjoy

Where shall I find my insp’ration

 To write my own own song,

So that I need no citation;

To me it will belong

 

Shall I up to the moon look up

Emitting light to me

Its light, reflected from the sun

To me no beauty holds

 

Shall I look up to the sunset

A fiery casting glow

This light, refracted by the sky

To me, no beauty holds

 

From where shall I then write my song

So that it will be true

Cuz all the things around me now

Seem stolen or untrue

 

So look not far, so look no not now

To things so far from you.

But rather look inside you now.

And search what’s inside you

 

For everything that comes from you

Will always be so true

So look inside your soul right now

And you’ll find feelings true

Ode to The Music Teacher

Here is a mock ode by Mel Wade. 

Ode to The Music Teacher

Though this poem attempts to feature
An adoring "Ode to the Music Teacher",
No mere rhyme can hope to reach
The essence of the ones who teach.
From history and from music glory
We'll cite just two from song and story:

First think about the "unsung" hero
Responsible for training Nero!
Isn't it a bit ironic
That as Rome burned he waxed symphonic,
And though the place was piping hot
They said the tune was not so hot?

Or mind the feat of Harold Hill
Whose music gave the town a thrill
Some say he preyed upon the masses
(And oversold the group on brasses.)
And what he did was pretty scary
With a simple song called "Gary".

These illustrations set the "tone"
So we can celebrate our own.
One maestro seeking to inspire
Formed a "sewing machine girls' choir"
(Without a 'Singer' in the bunch)
---They had to practice during lunch.

Yes, kudos to our educators
Creative guides and activators.
Teaching vocal, instrumental
For talented and temperamental.
Within each group there'll be one gifted
Per ninety-nine who'll be uplifted.
Accepting all who seek this art
(Though never sticking to one part.)

The post requires great restraint
Which tests the patience of a saint.
(Batons have shattered on some stands
But never on offending bands.)
What 'a-capella " means is surely
That the choir sang too early.

Surely mentors we admire
Are likely seeking to retire.
And when they someday meet their fate
The gift of music's their estate.
We're sure they'll lead the heavenly choir
Or accompany with the lyre.

And without doubt they'll know the score
And please us with one more encore.
Singing as they wait their fates
St. Pete will part the pearly gates.
But this time will not ring the bell
Because they've had their share of --- music.

(Please don't place a metronome
To check the meter of this poem)

So this is a funny mock poem. This poem starts off by mocking greek mythology, shown in the 2'nd and thrid stanza's, commenting on Nero and Herold Hill. Next it comments on the schools music programs and the students in it, punchily commenting on the amount of bad singers in a choir, and ending with a punchy rhyming couplet, fitting for such a funny and punchy poem. The lines here are short and to the point, which gives this poem that modern funny look. Although the author doesnt want the teacher to place a metronome and check the rhythm of this poem, it is fast and catchy, overall an excellent funny poem.

Here is a poem by Vasily Andreyevich Zhukovsky. For all those  that dont get it, hes russian. This poem is called The Bard. Enjoy.

My friends, can you descry that mound of earth
Above clear waters in the shade of trees?
You can just hear the babbling spring against the bank;
You can just feel a breeze that's wafting in the leaves;
A wreath and lyre hang upon the boughs...
Alas, my friends! This mound's a grave;
Here earth conceals the ashes of a bard;
Poor bard!

A gentle soul, a simple heart
He was a sojourner in the world;
He'd barely bloomed, yet lost his taste for life
He craved his end with yearning and excitement;
And early on he met his end,
He found the grave's desired sleep.
Your time was but a moment - a moment sad
Poor bard!

He sang with tenderness of friendship to his friend, -
His loyal friend cut down in his life's bloom;
He sang of love - but in a doleful voice;
Alas! Of love he knew naught but its woe;
Now all has met with its demise,
Your soul partakes of peace eternal;
You slumber in your silent grave,
Poor bard!

Here, by this stream one eventide
He sang his doleful farewell song:
"O lovely world, where blossomed I in vain;
Farewell forever; with a soul deceived
For happiness I waited - but my dreams have died;
All's perished; lyre, be still;
To your serene abode, o haste,
Poor bard!

What's life, when charm is lacking?
To know of bliss, with all the spirit's striving,
Only to see oneself cut off by an abyss;
Each moment to desire and yet fear desiring...
O refuge of vexatious hearts,
O grave, sure path to peace,
When will you call to your embrace
The poor bard?"

The bard's no more ... his lyre's silent...
All trace of him has disappeared from here;
The hills and valleys mourn;
And all is still ... save zephyrs soft,
That stir the faded wreath,
And waft betimes above the grave,
A woeful lyre responds:
Poor bard!

This is a great poem, with lots of poetical devices used. The thing that really sets this poem apart from many others is the beautiful imagery used, like line 2-6 and the last serveral lines in this poem. Lots of similes and metaphors used, like comparing him to a flower in line 10. The repetition of the phrase poor bard at the end of each stanza gives this poem a steady rhythm and gives each stanza a defined, purposeful ending. The mood of this poem is sad, regretting that the life of the bard had not achieved anything, and that he lived in vain. Overall an excellent poem.

Sonnet 8: Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?

So hear is another poem about music. This time a famous poem from the all known William Shakespeare.

Music to hear, why hear'st thou music sadly?
Sweets with sweets war not, joy delights in joy.
Why lov'st thou that which thou receiv'st not gladly,
Or else receiv'st with pleasure thine annoy?
If the true concord of well-tunèd sounds,
By unions married, do offend thine ear,
They do but sweetly chide thee, who confounds
In singleness the parts that thou shouldst bear.
Mark how one string, sweet husband to another,
Strikes each in each by mutual ordering,
Resembling sire and child and happy mother,
Who, all in one, one pleasing note do sing;
Whose speechless song being many, seeming one,
Sings this to thee: "Thou single wilt prove none."

So this is a poem by William Shakespeare. The classic Shakesperean poem, Sonnet 8 is obviously a sonnet, written in iambic rhythm giving it a very nice flow. This sonnet is about the author urging a young man to have a family, and quit living a single life. All throughout the poem, he uses the metophor of music, comparing the man to a sting or a note, and how alone it sounds sad, but in harmony with other notes, symbolizing a family and wife in unity, the notes sound beautiful, just like this wonderful poem

Solo - Sasha Dordzijev

                                                     Solo

                                            Simple    Shy

                                    Timid     Repetitive    Calm

                          Short Phrases      Low        Quiet

            Stronger        Complex Phrases       Original      Unique

Faster      Harmonic      Loud       High Pitched       Spectacular      Powerful

                                                      Solo

                                                        

                                                    

My Music Poem - Courtney-bowers57

So here is yet another poem about music. Found this poem on tabblo.com. Unfortunately, I can't give you guys the name of the author, since I found it on a website, but I can give you her ( im assuming this) nick which is Courtney-bowers57. So without further delay, here is the poem, titled: My Music Poem

A soft sweet, sound from deep within our souls, 
Expressed in a most different way. 
An indescribable sound descending from our hearts, 
Seems it has something to say.

An unpredictable sound conveying love and peace, 
Revealed from deep inside, 
A wave of emotion expressed through song 
So free it seems it has nothing to hide.

An unwinding of feelings, felt deep in the heart, 
Always present in every way.
A sound that is sacred and precious, 
That can never be taken away.

So, if you guys haven't guessed already, this poem describes music and how it starts from feelings deep down inside from your soul and expressed outwardly in the beautiful form of music. And as a decent musician I can tell you that the way you feel at the moment you are playing influences alot about how and what you play. And I don't just mean the type of music you play or the song you play, although that is often true. If you play one song 20 times in  year, every time it will be different, mirroring you're emotions at the time you were playing it. Even if you play the same notes 20 times, they will still be different. And this poem beautifully reflects that.

So now, more about this poem: obviously the rhyme scheme is ABAB CDCD EFEF. One of the things that is very though out about this poem is that it definetly has a rhythm. This poem doesnt necesarrily have an iambic beat, but it nicely has a 10 8 10 8 syllable in the stanzas, giving it a definite and puposeful rhyme. This poem appeals to your sense of emotion, mostly through sound. Many literary devices were used, mostly similes and metophors, like "wave of emotion expressed through song" and some personifications " An indescribable sound descending from our hearts, ". The author uses repetition of the word "sound", accenting the significance of the word and creating a sense of ending in the last two lines of the poem. Overall, a nice, well thought out poem. 

New Blog

Hey guys, a new blog is starting up called musical poetry. I will be posting and discussing poems about music. Through this blog, I hope to encourage you to listen to and play music and hopefully entertain you and "wash away from your soul the dust of everyday life" - Berthrold Auerbach 

“Music speaks what cannot be expressed, soothes the mind and gives it rest, heals the heart and makes it whole, flows from heaven to the soul.”  

The Strange Music by G. K. Chesterton

Other loves may sink and settle, other loves may loose and slack,
But I wander like a minstrel with a harp upon his back,
Though the harp be on my bosom, though I finger and I fret,
Still, my hope is all before me: for I cannot play it yet.

In your strings is hid a music that no hand hath e'er let fall,
In your soul is sealed a pleasure that you have not known at all;
Pleasure subtle as your spirit, strange and slender as your frame,
Fiercer than the pain that folds you, softer than your sorrow's name.

Not as mine, my soul's annointed, not as mine the rude and light
Easy mirth of many faces, swaggering pride of song and fight;
Something stranger, something sweeter, something waiting you afar,
Secret as your stricken senses, magic as your sorrows are.

But on this, God's harp supernal, stretched but to be stricken once,
Hoary time is a beginner, Life a bungler, Death a dunce.
But I will not fear to match them-no, by God, I will not fear,

I will learn you, I will play you and the stars stand still to hear.

This poem very accurattely reflects the feelings that a beginner at any instrument feels when he first holds an instrument in his hand. The excitement of learning to play it, the dreams of crowds of people listening to you play beautiful music, and the fear of being embarrassed. I know these feelings myself from personal experience from playing guitar. You see someone play beautifully and seemingly easy, then you pick up your own instrument and get muffled unsure notes, and you wonder if you'll ever play like that. 

This is a higly structured poem, and you can tell that the author had spent alot of time working on it. The rhyme scheme is ABAB, and there is a very definite iambic beat with 15 beats per line all the way through the poem, giving it a steady rhythm. Lots of imagery used, and example would be "the stars will stand to hear". This poem mostly appeals to your sense of emotion, trying to portray the feelings of a new musician and has alot of deep meaning inside the poem.

"In your soul is sealed a pleasure that you have not known at all;
Pleasure subtle as your spirit, strange and slender as your frame,
Fiercer than the pain that folds you, softer than your sorrow's name."