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Jubilee

[ music: natalie merchant/words: natalie merchant ]
[ musical arrangement: jason osborn/first violin: krista bennion feeney/second violin: mitsuru tsubota/viola: louise schulman/cello: myron lutzke/bassoon: dennis godburn/harpsicord: robert wolin
All belonging to the sait lukes chamber orchestra)/classical guitar: scott kuney/double bass: frank luther (all directed by jason osborn) ]
He fills the flower vases, trims the candle bases, takes small change from the poor box.
Tyler has the key.
He takes nail and hammer to tack up the banner of felt scraps glued together reading,
Jesus lives in me.
Alone in the night he mocks the words of the preacher: God is feeling your every pain.
Repair the christmas stable, restore the plaster angel.
Her lips begin to crumble and her robes begin to peel.
For Bible study in the church basement, hear children gospel citing, matthew 17:15.
Alone in the night he mocks the arms of the preacher raised to the ceiling,
Tell God your pain.
To him the worlds defiled.
In lot he sees a likeness there;
He swears this sodom will burn down.
Near sacred blood theres a dance hall where tyler glen saw a black girl and a white boy kissing shamelessly.
Black hands on white shoulders, white hands on black shoulders, dancing, and you know whats more.
Hes gods mad disciple, a righteous title, for the word he heard he so misunderstood.
Though simple minded, a crippled man, to know this man is to fear this man, to shake when he comes.
Wasnt it God that let puritans in salem do what they did to the unfaithful?
Boys at the jubilee slowly sink into brown bag whiskey drinking and reeling on their feet.
Girls at the jubilee in low-cut dresses yield to the caresses and the man-handling.
Black hands on white shoulders, white hands on black shoulders, dancing, and you know whats more.
Through the tall blades of grass he heads for the jubilee with a bucket in his right hand full of rags soaked in gasoline.
He lifts the shingles in the dark and slips the rags there underneath.
He strikes a matchstick on the box side and watches the rags ignite.
He climbs the bell tower of the sacred blood to watch the flames rising higher toward the trees.
Sirens wailing now toward the scene.
-- matthew 17:15 --
-- lord have mercy onmy son
-- for he is a lunatick, and
-- sore vexed: for oftimes he
-- falleth into the fire and
-- oftimes into the wate

song performed by 10000 Maniacs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Lord Robert

Tall and young and light of tongue,
Gallantly riding by wood and lea,
He was ware of a maiden fair
And turned and whispered, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)

Day by day she walks that way
Never hoping by wood or lea
To be ware of the stranger gay
Who turned and whispered, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?

Chance for chance he rides that way,
And again by wood or by lea
He was ware of the maiden fair,
And again he whispered, 'Remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)

Chance for chance that way rode he,
And again where he was ware,
Debonnair to that maiden fair
He turned and said, 'You remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;
Under their feet where the cross-roads meet
Dost thou think I can lie and lie,
Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert?)

Chance for chance on a summer-day,
Meeting her still by wood and lea,
He leaped gay from his gallant grey
And said, 'I see you remember me.'
(Oh Lord Robert, Lord Robert, Lord Robert,
Oh Lord Robert, 'tis I, 'tis I;

[...] Read more

poem by Sydney Thompson Dobell
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Twin State

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[...] Read more

poem by Caasder Fronds
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A Quick One While Hes Away

I. her mans been gone
Her mans been gone
For nearly a year
He was due home yesterday
But he aint here
Her mans been gone
For nigh on a year
He was due home yesterday
But he aint here
Ii. crying town
Down your street your crying is a well-known sound
Your street is very well known, right here in town
Your town is very famous for the little girl
Whose cries can be heard all around the world
Iii. we have a remedy
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
We have a remedy
Youll appreciate
No need to be so sad
Hes only late
Well bring you flowers and things
Help pass your time
Well give him eagles wings
Then he can fly to you
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la
Fa la la la la la
Fa la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
We have a remedy
Fa la la la la la la
(spoken)
We have a remedy.
We have!
Little girl, why dont you stop your crying?
Im gonna make you feel all right
Iv. ivor the engine driver
My name is ivor
Im an engine driver
I know him well

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Making Of Viola

I.

THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,
Twirl your wheel with silver din;
Spin, daughter Mary, spin,
Spin a tress for Viola.
ANGELS.
Spin, Queen Mary, a
Brown tress for Viola!

II.

THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Weave, hands angelical,
Weave a woof of flesh to pall -
Weave, hands angelical -
Flesh to pall our Viola.
ANGELS.
Weave, singing brothers, a
Velvet flesh for Viola!

III.

THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Scoop, young Jesus, for her eyes,
Wood-browned pools of Paradise -
Young Jesus, for the eyes,
For the eyes of Viola.
ANGELS.
Tint, Prince Jesus, a
Dusked eye for Viola!

IV.

THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Cast a star therein to drown,
Like a torch in cavern brown,
Sink a burning star to drown
Whelmed in eyes of Viola.
ANGELS.
Lave, Prince Jesus, a
Star in eyes of Viola!

V.

THE FATHER OF HEAVEN.
Breathe, Lord Paraclete,
To a bubbled crystal meet -
Breathe, Lord Paraclete -

[...] Read more

poem by Francis Thompson
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Louise

Louise
It seemed a long time ago
Louise
Ill always remember that day
I crawled on my knees
Begging you to stay
You made me shiver louise
You made me quiver
Now I do the strangest things
I think such lonely thoughts
Forgetting all
Just forgetting you
Louise
Anything at all
Not to think of you
Anything at all
Dont deny it is not true
Louise
I feel I am getting weaker
A life blue on gloomy waves
I feel I am diving deeper
Into the darkest caves
Theres nothing at all
To find a way
Louise louise louise
My heart used to beat
Now it only weeps
Louise louise louise
Uncared the city sleeps
I am twisted in the streets
I am shivering
Into the strangest things
Lonely thoughts and forgetting you louise
And you promised me
You told me
You told me empty lies
Louise louise louise
( my only cord is not to adore , I have to say, it is my only way )
Louise leave me , leave me
No longer interfere
Louise
Louise

song performed by Xymox
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Lay of Poor Louise

Ah, poor Louise! the livelong day
She roams from cot to castle gay;
And still her voice and viol say,
Ah, maids, beware the woodland way,
Think on Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The sun was high,
It smirch'd her cheek, it dimm'd her eye,
The woodland walk was cool and nigh,
Where birds with chiming streamlets vie
To cheer Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! The savage bear
Made ne'er that lovely grove his lair;
The wolves molest not paths so fair-
But better far had such been there
For poor Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! In woody wold
She met a huntsman fair and bold;
His baldric was of silk and gold,
And many a witching tale he told
To poor Louise.

Ah, poor Louise! Small cause to pine
Hadst thou for treasures of the mine;
For peace of mind that gift divine,
And spotless innocence, were thine,
Ah, poor Louise!

Ah, poor Louise! Thy treasure's reft!
I know not if by force or theft,
Or part by violence, part by gift;
But misery is all that's left
To poor Louise.

Let poor Louise some succour have!
She will not long your bounty crave,
Or tire the gay with warning stave-
For Heaven has grace, and earth a grave,
Poor poor Louise.

poem by Sir Walter Scott
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The Cremona Violin

Part First

Frau Concert-Meister Altgelt shut the door.
A storm was rising, heavy gusts of wind
Swirled through the trees, and scattered leaves before
Her on the clean, flagged path. The sky behind
The distant town was black, and sharp defined
Against it shone the lines of roofs and towers,
Superimposed and flat like cardboard flowers.

A pasted city on a purple ground,
Picked out with luminous paint, it seemed. The cloud
Split on an edge of lightning, and a sound
Of rivers full and rushing boomed through bowed,
Tossed, hissing branches. Thunder rumbled loud
Beyond the town fast swallowing into gloom.
Frau Altgelt closed the windows of each room.

She bustled round to shake by constant moving
The strange, weird atmosphere. She stirred the fire,
She twitched the supper-cloth as though improving
Its careful setting, then her own attire
Came in for notice, tiptoeing higher and higher
She peered into the wall-glass, now adjusting
A straying lock, or else a ribbon thrusting

This way or that to suit her. At last sitting,
Or rather plumping down upon a chair,
She took her work, the stocking she was knitting,
And watched the rain upon the window glare
In white, bright drops. Through the black glass a flare
Of lightning squirmed about her needles. 'Oh!'
She cried. 'What can be keeping Theodore so!'

A roll of thunder set the casements clapping.
Frau Altgelt flung her work aside and ran,
Pulled open the house door, with kerchief flapping
She stood and gazed along the street. A man
Flung back the garden-gate and nearly ran
Her down as she stood in the door. 'Why, Dear,
What in the name of patience brings you here?

Quick, Lotta, shut the door, my violin
I fear is wetted. Now, Dear, bring a light.
This clasp is very much too worn and thin.
I'll take the other fiddle out to-night
If it still rains. Tut! Tut! my child, you're quite
Clumsy. Here, help me, hold the case while I -
Give me the candle. No, the inside's dry.

[...] Read more

poem by Amy Lowell
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Since I Fell For You

(buddy johnson)
Reba:
When you just give love
Natalie:
And never get love
Reba:
You better let love be part
Natalie:
I know that its so
And yeah I know
Reba:
I cant get you out of my heart
Natalie:
You, you, you, you, you, you
You make me leave my happy home
You took my love and now youre gone, gone, gone, gone, gone
Since I fell for you
Oh yeah
Reba:
Oh love
Natalie:
(sing reba)
Reba:
Brings such misery and pain
I guess Ill never
Oh I guess Ill never be the same
Since I fell for you
Natalie:
(I gotta say this right here)
Well, well its too bad
Reba:
Oh its too bad
Natalie:
Oh and its too sad
Reba:
Oh its too sad
Natalie:
But Im in love, Im in love with you
Natalie:
Oh oh, you love me
Reba:
Oh you loved me
Natalie:
And then you snubbed me
Reba:
You bad boy
Natalie:
Oh but what can I do
Im still in love with you
Reba:

[...] Read more

song performed by Reba Mcentire
Added by Lucian Velea
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Interlude narrative verse for M lady Ernestine

The silent cello waits in vain.
Her owner can no longer play,
her twisted joints in so much pain
Arthritis has now won the day.

Those hands which once caressed the strings
are gnarled and twisted dreadfully
Though in her mind the cello sings,
its silent in reality.

The music stored within its soul
longs for release impatiently.
Its destiny to play a role
assisting some child prodigy.

The owner cannot bear to part
with her treasured instrument.
She holds a dream deep in her heart.
Some one will come who’s one intent

to learn to play the cello well.
Prepared to suffer for their art,
beglamoured by the subtle spell
this cherished cello can impart.

Her children show no interest,
no musical ability.
Perhaps, she thinks it’s for the best
The cello waits impatiently.

One day her grandchild comes to call
A pretty child who’s not yet five.
She exhibits no fear at all
her fingers bring the strings alive.

The cello knows this is the one.
The child it has been waiting for.
and grandma knows she has passed on.
The love she felt so long before.

Before she learnt to play a note.
She knew it was her destiny
that music was the antidote
to soothe her sensitivity..

The chills is lost in wonderment
and strokes the cello lovingly.
This could not be an accident.
It was her grandma’s legacy.

[...] Read more

poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
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Metamorphoses: Book The Seventh

THE Argonauts now stemm'd the foaming tide,
And to Arcadia's shore their course apply'd;
Where sightless Phineus spent his age in grief,
But Boreas' sons engage in his relief;
And those unwelcome guests, the odious race
Of Harpyes, from the monarch's table chase.
With Jason then they greater toils sustain,
And Phasis' slimy banks at last they gain,
Here boldly they demand the golden prize
Of Scythia's king, who sternly thus replies:
That mighty labours they must first o'ercome,
Or sail their Argo thence unfreighted home.
The Story of Meanwhile Medea, seiz'd with fierce desire,
Medea and By reason strives to quench the raging fire;
Jason But strives in vain!- Some God (she said)
withstands,
And reason's baffl'd council countermands.
What unseen Pow'r does this disorder move?
'Tis love,- at least 'tis like, what men call love.
Else wherefore shou'd the king's commands appear
To me too hard?- But so indeed they are.
Why shou'd I for a stranger fear, lest he
Shou'd perish, whom I did but lately see?
His death, or safety, what are they to me?
Wretch, from thy virgin-breast this flame expel,
And soon- Oh cou'd I, all wou'd then be well!
But love, resistless love, my soul invades;
Discretion this, affection that perswades.
I see the right, and I approve it too,
Condemn the wrong- and yet the wrong pursue.
Why, royal maid, shou'dst thou desire to wed
A wanderer, and court a foreign bed?
Thy native land, tho' barb'rous, can present
A bridegroom worth a royal bride's content:
And whether this advent'rer lives, or dies,
In Fate, and Fortune's fickle pleasure lies.
Yet may be live! for to the Pow'rs above,
A virgin, led by no impulse of love,
So just a suit may, for the guiltless, move.
Whom wou'd not Jason's valour, youth and blood
Invite? or cou'd these merits be withstood,
At least his charming person must encline
The hardest heart- I'm sure 'tis so with mine!
Yet, if I help him not, the flaming breath
Of bulls, and earth-born foes, must be his death.
Or, should he through these dangers force his way,
At last he must be made the dragon's prey.
If no remorse for such distress I feel,
I am a tigress, and my breast is steel.
Why do I scruple then to see him slain,

[...] Read more

poem by Ovid
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Violin

Four strings across the bridge,
Ready to carry me over,
Over the quavers, drunk in the bars,
Out of the realm of the orchestra,
Out of the realm of the orchestra.
Filling me up with the shivers.
Filling me up with the shivers and quivers.
Filling me up with the shivers.
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Paganini up on the chimney,
Lord of the dance,
With nero and old nicky.
Whack that devil
Into my fiddlestick!
Give me the banshees for b.v.s,*
Give me the banshees for b.v.s.
Jigging along with the fiddle, oh, johnny.
Jigging along with the fiddle-dee-dee.
Jigging along with the fiddle, oh, johnny.
Jigging along with the fiddle-dee-diddle-dee-dee!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!
Get the bow going!
Let it scream to me:
Violin! violin! violin!

song performed by Kate Bush
Added by Lucian Velea
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Let It All Be Music

Music is a mirror
Near around my soul
Music is the spirit
Come on let it roll
Music is my nature
People have you heard
Music is my future
Music is the world
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music isnt somewhere
Music turns you right
Music is a fever
Leads you day and night
Music is like heaven
Where you wanna be
Music is religion
Music sets you free
Let it all be music
People sing a song
Let it all be music
Let us sing it on and on and on and on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on
Lets play the music
My kind of music
Lets play the music
Play it on and on and on
Music is tomorrow
Music is today
Music is forever
Music is the way
Music is for women
Music is for men
Music is for children
Sing it all again
Let it all be music
People sing a song

[...] Read more

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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Keep That Beat Just Heated

You keep that conga beat strickly in the rhythm.
You keep that conga beat heat, rhythmically.
And keep that beat just heated as it flows around the room.
And keep that beat just heated.
Keep it and just heated.
Keep it as it's needed.

You keep that conga beat heat, rhythmically.
And keep that beat just heated as it flows around the room.
And keep that beat just heated.
Keep it and just heated.
Keep it as it's needed to stir up a good mood.

Give me some cello,
With the flute and bassist playing.
You keep that conga beat heat,
Rhythmically.

Add some violins and French horns too.
With the build up of some trumpets,
And a sax player's groove.

You keep that conga beat strickly in the rhythm.
You keep that conga beat heat, rhythmically.
And keep that beat just heated as it flows around the room.
And keep that beat just heated.
Keep it and just heated.
Keep it as it's needed.

Give me some cello,
With the flute and bassist playing.
You keep that conga beat heat,
Rhythmically.
You keep that conga beat...
Strickly in the rhythm.
You keep that conga beat heat, rhythmically.

Give me some cello,
With the flute and bassist playing.
You keep that conga beat heat,
Rhythmically.
You keep that conga beat...
Strickly in the rhythm.
You keep that conga beat heat, rhythmically.

Give me some cello,
With the flute and bassist playing.
Add some violins and French horns too.
With the build up of some trumpets,
And a sax player's groove.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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The Brus Book XIII

[Douglas's division attacks]

Quhen thir twa fyrst bataillis wer
Assemblyt as I said you er,
The Stewart Walter that than was
And the gud lord als of Douglas
5 In a bataill, quhen that thai saw
The erle foroutyn dred or aw
Assembill with his cumpany
On all that folk sa sturdely
For till help him thai held thar way
10 And thar bataill in gud aray,
And assemblyt sa hardely
Besid the erle a litill by
That thar fayis feld thar cummyn wele,
For with wapynnys stalwart of stele
15 Thai dang apon with all thar mycht.
Thar fayis resavyt weile Ik hycht
With swerdis speris and with mase,
The bataill thar sa feloune was
And sua rycht gret spilling of blud
20 That on the erd the flousis stud.
The Scottismen sa weill thaim bar
And sua gret slauchter maid thai thar
And fra sa fele the lyvis revyt
That all the feld bludy wes levyt.
25 That tyme thar thre bataillis wer
All syd be sid fechtand weill ner,
Thar mycht men her mony dynt
And wapynnys apon armuris stynt,
And se tumble knychtis and stedis
30 And mony rich and reale wedis
Defoullyt foully under fete,
Sum held on loft sum tynt the suet.
A lang quhill thus fechtand thai war
That men na noyis mycht her thar,
35 Men hard nocht bot granys and dintis
That slew fyr as men slayis on flyntis,
Thai faucht ilk ane sa egerly
That thai maid nother moyis na cry
Bot dang on other at thar mycht
40 With wapnys that war burnyst brycht.
The arowys als sua thyk thar flaw
That thai mycht say wele that thaim saw
That thai a hidwys schour gan ma,
For quhar thai fell Ik undreta
45 Thai left efter thaim taknyng
That sall ned as I trow leching.

[Sir Robert Keith's cavalry disperses the English archers]

[...] Read more

poem by John Barbour
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Dr. Robert

Ring my friend I said you'd call Dr. Robert,
Day or night he'll be there anytime at all Dr. Robert.
Dr. Robert, your a new and better man,
He helps you to understand,
He does everything he can, Dr. Robert.
If your down he'll pick you up Dr. Robert,
Take a drink from his special cup Dr. Robert
Dr. Robert, he's a man you must believe,
Helping everyone in need,
No one can succeed like Dr. Robert
Well, well, well your feeling fine,
Well, well, well, he'll make you Dr. Robert
My friend works for the national health Dr. Robert,
Don't take money to see yourself with Dr. Robert
Dr. Robert, your a new and better man,
He helps you to understand,
He does everything he can Dr. Robert
Well, well, well, your feeling fine,
Well, well, well, he'll make you Dr. Robert
Ring my friend I said you'd call Dr. Robert (2x)
Dr. Robert!

song performed by Beatles
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Sicilian's Tale; King Robert of Sicily

Robert of Sicily, brother of Pope Urbane
And Valmond, Emperor of Allemaine,
Apparelled in magnificent attire,
With retinue of many a knight and squire,
On St. John's eve, at vespers, proudly sat
And heard the priests chant the Magnificat,
And as he listened, o'er and o'er again
Repeated, like a burden or refrain,
He caught the words, 'Deposuit potentes
De sede, et exaltavit humiles;'
And slowly lifting up his kingly head
He to a learned clerk beside him said,
'What mean these words?' The clerk made answer meet,
'He has put down the mighty from their seat,
And has exalted them of low degree.'
Thereat King Robert muttered scornfully,
''T is well that such seditious words are sung
Only by priests and in the Latin tongue;
For unto priests and people be it known,
There is no power can push me from my throne!'
And leaning back, he yawned and fell asleep,
Lulled by the chant monotonous and deep.

When he awoke, it was already night;
The church was empty, and there was no light,
Save where the lamps, that glimmered few and faint,
Lighted a little space before some saint.
He started from his seat and gazed around,
But saw no living thing and heard no sound.
He groped towards the door, but it was locked;
He cried aloud, and listened, and then knocked,
And uttered awful threatenings and complaints,
And imprecations upon men and saints.
The sounds reëchoed from the roof and walls
As if dead priests were laughing in their stalls.

At length the sexton, hearing from without
The tumult of the knocking and the shout,
And thinking thieves were in the house of prayer,
Came with his lantern, asking, 'Who is there?'
Half choked with rage, King Robert fiercely said,
'Open: 't is I, the King! Art thou afraid?'
The frightened sexton, muttering, with a curse,
'This is some drunken vagabond, or worse!'
Turned the great key and flung the portal wide;
A man rushed by him at a single stride,
Haggard, half naked, without hat or cloak,
Who neither turned, nor looked at him, nor spoke,
But leaped into the blackness of the night,
And vanished like a spectre from his sight.

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poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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Please Let Me Please

What did you do today?You turned the other way
I tried to kiss you, but you laughed in my face
It's a one thing to do knowin' that I love you
Don't be to hasty; the tables will turn
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Why are you different now? Did I hurt you somehow?
If so, then tell me, but don't laugh in my face
If I said something strong, I'll admit I was wrong
Come on and tell me, but don't laugh in my face
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
break
I always treat you right. Why do you wanna fight?
Go if you want to, but don't laugh in my face
If I try kissin' you, don't make me out a fool
Come and tell me, but don't laugh in my face
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise
Please, please, please, let me please ya
Please let me please ya. Please let me, Louise

song performed by Hollies
Added by Lucian Velea
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Beauty And The Beast

A Merchant, who by generous pains
Prospered in honourable gains,
Could boast, his wealth and fame to share,
Three manly Sons, three Daughters fair;
With these he felt supremely blest.-
His latest born surpass'd the rest:
She was so gentle, good and kind,
So fair in feature, form, and mind,
So constant too in filial duty,
The neighbours called her Little Beauty!
And when fair childhood's days were run,
That title still she wore and won;
Lovelier as older still she grew,
Improv'd in grace and goodness too.-
Her elder Sisters, gay and vain,
View'd her with envy and disdain,
Toss'd up their heads with haughty air;
Dress, Fashion, Pleasure, all their care.

'Twas thus, improving and improv'd;
Loving, and worthy to be lov'd,
Sprightly, yet grave, each circling day
Saw Beauty innocently gay.
Thus smooth the May-like moments past;
Blest times! but soon by clouds o'ercast!

Sudden as winds that madd'ning sweep
The foaming surface of the deep,
Vast treasures, trusted to the wave,
Were buried in the billowy grave!
Our Merchant, late of boundless store,
Saw Famine hasting to his door.

With willing hand and ready grace,
Mild Beauty takes the Servant's place;
Rose with the sun to household cares,
And morn's repast with zeal prepares,
The wholesome meal, the cheerful fire:
What cannot filial love inspire?
And when the task of day was done,
Suspended till the rising sun,
Music and song the hours employ'd,
As more deserv'd, the more enjoy'd;
Till Industry, with Pastime join'd,
Refresh'd the body and the mind;
And when the groupe retir'd to rest,
Father and Brothers Beauty blest.

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poem by Charles Lamb
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Nothing But Wind

Nothing But Wind

Music the world filled with,
And is God-breathed the melody in it.
Music moves the world around on its way,
And it’s wind in music dwells.
Muse of Music! Let me imbibe thy notes
For sans thee my voice lies half-dead
When my heart is to sing
That
NOTHING BUT WIND is music.

My soul enters the sylvan woodlands-
The abode of musical birds,
And in quest of music haunts every nest.
It’s music that birds chirp,
And I lay my soul on a pasture,
And the chirping of birds does caress my soul:
The cuckoo sings with twain quick notes,
The nightingale babbles with nectarous notes,
The sparrow squeaks with mumbling thoughts,
The throttle bubbles with drizzling thoughts,
All sail into, my soul cherished
When wind turned to music through birds.
Crickets join the orchestra with their wings rubbed the air,
And music flows when their wings flap.
My soul journeys along the bank of musical stream,
Where bamboos rustle when wind penetrates them:
It’s “Bamboo” music breathed thro’ flute,
I learnt the love for music born thro’ bamboo
Perfected with beautiful melodies.
Dwelling on pastures music grows personified:
Harps reverberate at the hands of the shepherds,
Green music born of pastoral spirit join the bleating of lambs:
The lambs bleat and music is breathed,
And the whole of the pastures flutter with joy.
Into deep woods my soul moves,
And lions roar I hear, elephants trumpet,
And ravens voice hoarse notes
When “bamboo” music is tried by machines:
Harp turned to Guitar, bamboo turned to piano,
And music now flows thro’ science -
Science that survives with computers.
When engine whistles I hear music
And train follows it with “friction” music,
Rhythmic beats perfected on rails.
”Friction” music turned to “roar” music
When air-plane has been invented.
My soul speeds up - speeding up

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poem by MBJ Pancras
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Mammary Tunes

Under heavy haze I cast an ear…
Was that a distant hymn?

To view, to peer ahead,
I span thro’ sharpened eyes,
Connecting brain. Surprise
Awards emotion to the show –
A fine refrain.

I think I know the source:
Without recourse my keen and
Eager shoes propel my whole.

And she regales me as I close –
The drifting notes propose I place
An ear to verge upon the emanation.
Choice of left or right
Invites and overwhelms;
A brief respite, and then
I poise an aural organ,
Seeking out the balance
In the tone from rhythmic flesh.

O Holy Grail, the sweet spot!

Honed in stereophony and
Mastered out of euphony:
Her music –
Diaphragms of luscious areolae
Give the tune

Atop a vibrant bass –
Quivers in the
Belly of her breast.
And presently
I fall beneath a spell of heady music
As her reproductive cushions do the rest.

Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2011

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poem by Mark R Slaughter
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