Proms Poetry Competition (and your favourite musical poetry)

[cavatina]

Littlefox: Glad you're enjoying it! Back from another evening of sublime music...at times like this, only the great Persian mystic poet Hafiz will do.


GHAZAL 79

The heavenly breeze comes to this estate,
I sit with the wine and a lovely mate.
Why can’t the beggar play the king’s role?
The sky is the dome, the earth is my state.
The green grass feels like Paradise;
Why would I trade this for the garden gate?
With bricks of wine build towers of love,
Being bricks of clay is our final fate.
Seek no kindness of those full of hate,
People of the mosque with the church debate.
Don’t badmouth me, don’t blacken my name;
Only God can, my story narrate.
Neither Hafiz’s corpse, nor his life negate,
With all his misdeeds, heavens for him wait.


GHAZAL 26

Disheveled hair, sweaty, smiling, drunken, and
With a torn shirt, singing, the jug in hand
Narcissus loudly laments, on his lips, alas, alas!
Last night at midnight, came and sat right by my bed-stand
Brought his head next to my ears, with a sad song
Said, O my old lover, you are still in dreamland
The lover who drinks this nocturnal brew
Infidel, if not worships the wine's command
Go away O hermit, fault not the drunk
Our Divine gift from the day that God made sea and land
Whatever He poured for us in our cup, we just drank
If it was a cheap wine or heavenly brand
The smile on the cup's face and Beloved's hair strand
Break many who may repent, just as Hafiz falsely planned.


GHAZAL 46

Amidst flowers, wine in hand, my lover I embrace
King of the world is my slave on such a day in such a place.
Bring no candles to this, our festive feast, tonight
Full moon is pale beside the light of my lover's face.
Drinking of wine, our creed has sanctified
Yet without you, drinking wine is disgrace.
My ears only hear the song of the harp and the reed
My eyes see your ruby lips, and the cup chase.
Keep perfumes away from our feast tonight
The fragrance of your hair, our feast will grace.
Speak not to me of sweetness of candy and sugar;
Since my lips, sweetness of your lips, did once trace.
Your treasures are hidden in the ruins of my heart
And my path to the tavern has now become sacred space.
Speak not of disgrace; that's my fame and my base
And fame and high place, I despise and debase.
Drunk and disconcerted and demented and deceived
Show me one who's not, within our town and our race.
Fault not the pious one, because he, also, like us,
Is seeking love and grace, in his own way, at his own pace.
Hafiz, wine in hand, always your lover embrace
Because flowers and joy fill this festive time and space.

[simon1]

Alexandria

This is a piece which, hopefully, evokes feelings I have listening to Saint-Saens's 'Egyptian' concerto.


Alexandria’s perfume quells my heart
The union of an unlit heart
My thoughts uneven by the way
The memory of another day

Apple-bloom, shining-appled
Honey-blossom, rainbow-dappled
Red-russet is the sea
Bees scramble with glee

Beauty’s realm covets night
Star-lashed silver-spilt night
Golden-breath soil-tipped
A heart so ripped

Fired by dune
Rotted by swoon
My Love’s beauty is fire-strung
Apple-scoops, ruby hoops dune-sung

Moon drapes an arch beauty
Emerald pools shimmer duty
Your sweetness is a dewy drape
Your sweet poison is the grape

Splitting sun sears my mind
Her harsh words not too unkind
The memory of another day
When I was young, when I was gay

[Serial_Apologist]

Little fox
Little fox
With smile bestowed
By Goldilocks

Is this a ruse?
What lovely shoes!
What colour socks?
Oh no, please no
My little fox!

From Enid Blyton, "Resurrection Symphony", abridged, transcribed for piano, right hand, by Brahms and Liszt.

[cavatina]

This is a piece which, hopefully, evokes feelings I have listening to Saint-Saens's 'Egyptian' concerto.

Alexandria’s perfume quells my heart
The union of an unlit heart
My thoughts uneven by the way
The memory of another day

Apple-bloom, shining-appled
Honey-blossom, rainbow-dappled
Red-russet is the sea
Bees scramble with glee

Beauty’s realm covets night
Star-lashed silver-spilt night
Golden-breath soil-tipped
A heart so ripped

Fired by dune
Rotted by swoon
My Love’s beauty is fire-strung
Apple-scoops, ruby hoops dune-sung

Moon drapes an arch beauty
Emerald pools shimmer duty
Your sweetness is a dewy drape
Your sweet poison is the grape

Splitting sun sears my mind
Her harsh words not too unkind
The memory of another day
When I was young, when I was gay

Very evocative-- thanks! Did you enter it? If so, good luck! Curious, have you seen the Poetry Free For All forum where you can receive feedback from other poets? One advantage is they feature different boards for different genres and different stages of development, so everyone is grouped with peers. You can also learn a lot by writing critiques for others...it really helps brings your own work into sharper focus. Don't forget to read their "resources" page; lots of fantastically helpful information. Watch out though, it's a tough crowd...best to have them critique exercises first.

Here's another "joyous autumn" poem for you by William Blake...enjoy!

TO AUTUMN

O Autumn, laden with fruit, and stainèd
With the blood of the grape, pass not, but sit
Beneath my shady roof; there thou may'st rest,
And tune thy jolly voice to my fresh pipe,
And all the daughters of the year shall dance!
Sing now the lusty song of fruits and flowers.
`The narrow bud opens her beauties to
The sun, and love runs in her thrilling veins;
Blossoms hang round the brows of Morning, and
Flourish down the bright cheek of modest Eve,
Till clust'ring Summer breaks forth into singing,
And feather'd clouds strew flowers round her head.

`The spirits of the air live on the smells
Of fruit; and Joy, with pinions light, roves round
The gardens, or sits singing in the trees.'
Thus sang the jolly Autumn as he sat;
Then rose, girded himself, and o'er the bleak
Hills fled from our sight; but left his golden load.

[vinteuil]

i like limericks.

'There was a young bard of Japan
Whose limericks never would scan
When they said it was so,
He replied, "Yes, I know,
But I always try to fit as many syllables into the last line as I possibly can." '


'There once was a fellow from Xiangling
Whose greatest delight was in mangling
Poems. He would drop
Words between lines and lop
Their ends off, and leave readers dang '


'There was an old man of St. Bees
Who was stung in the arm by a wasp.
When they asked, "Does it hurt?"
He replied, "No, it doesn't,
But I'm glad it wasn't a hornet." '


'There was a young man from Peru
Whose limericks stopped at line two.'

'There was a young man from Verdun... '

[cavatina]

Mendelssohn set so many excellent German lyric poets to music, it was hard to pick just one in honor of tonight's concert. I love Eichendorff, Uhland, and Heine-- but when I remembered he set poems by Goethe inspired by the Ghazals of Hafiz, that settled it!

"Upon knowing Hafiz, Goethe wished to be one of his disciples. He said: "O Hafiz, your word is as great as eternity for it has no beginning and no end. Your word, as the canopy of Heaven, solely depends on itself. It is all signs, beauty and excellence."

THE PRESENCE OF HAFIZ IN GOETHE'S WRITINGS

http://fis-iran.org/en/irannameh/volxviii/hafiz-goethe-writings

Hope you like these poems from the West-östlicher Diwan.


ON THESE BOUGHS

On these boughs full of clustering leaves,
just look, my love!
Let me show you the fruit
insulated by prickly green.

They have been hanging for a long time, crowded,
silent, and unknown to themselves;
a branch that with a swinging motion
rocks them patiently.

Yet ever ripening from within,
the brown kernel swells;
it would dearly like to reach the air
and see the sun.

The husk bursts open, and down
it falls, joyfully lost;
thus fall my songs
as I heap them into your lap.


ELEMENTS

SAY, from how many an element
True song should seek and suck its food,
Song, layfolks listen to content,
And masters hear in gladdest mood?
Love, past all things of common rate,
Be this our theme when we shall sing!

If love the verse should penetrate
The sweeter will its music ring.
Then must the meeting glasses clink,
While gleams the red wine circling round!

For those who love, for those who drink,
With smiles the fairest wreaths are wound.
And next the clash of arms I name,
The trumpet's blare must sound abroad.
So shall the hero, while in flame
Leaps victory, know himself a god.


LIMITLESS

Thou art of joys a true poetic fount,
Wave welling after wave from thee past count.
A mouth that never tires of kisses,
A bosom-song that sweetly goes,
A throat afret for winecup blisses,
A generous heart that overflows.

Ah ! let the whole world slide and sink,
Hafiz, with thee alone the strife
Of song I seek. Twin-brothers we,
Our pain, our pleasure common be!
To love like thee, like thee to drink,
Shall be my pride, shall be my life.

[littlefox]

Hello french frank, good to join you all

Thanks - yes it's mine, decided to have a bash at the competition whilst giddy on Steve Reich!

[cavatina]

Hello french frank, good to join you all. Thanks - yes it's mine, decided to have a bash at the competition whilst giddy on Steve Reich!

That concert was really something, wasn't it? I had no idea what I was in for...I'm so glad I made it-- unforgettable! And please do post more of your stuff here; I'm sure we're all looking forward to it.

Anyway, this evening I was so excited hear all those glorious Harry Warren songs at the musicals prom (42nd Street, You'll Never Know, This Heart of Mine, other bits in the medleys, etc). I used to do a little volunteer research for the now-defunct Harry Warren website by digging up sheet music from the archives at Lincoln Center...sadly, this marvelous resource has disappeared, but lingers on at archive.org if you're interested:

THE HARRY WARREN WEBSITE

http://web.archive.org/web/20090214174637/http://harrywarren.org/

Here's the poem to one of my very favorite Warren songs, "Living on Velvet", from the 1935 movie musical of the same name:

LIVING ON VELVET

I may be a beggar who is riding high,
I may be a beggar but I'm getting by.
I live on the future, on velvety dreams,

For you're in my future, and oh how sweet it seems, dear;

After all of my struggles are over,
I'll be living on velvet with you.
We'll walk on beautiful carpets of clover,
And skies will be blue.
Though our wealth may be made out of star-dust,
We'll have so many dreams coming true,
We'll be envied by people with merely a million or two,
For I'll be living on velvet with you.


Since it's just not the same without the music, I found a clip from the movie for you so you can mentally put the two together. The tune is at 1:30 to 2:13, and again at 3:49 and 4:25. Enjoy!

LIVING ON VELVET

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ORhgqgsjrbM

[cavatina]

Good evening, all! It's overcast and misty tonight, which somehow put me in the mood for reading Baudelaire (which admittedly isn't ever that hard to do...ha!) I also found a very lyrical weather-related poem by Emanuel von Geibel that Bruckner set to music in 1868, which seems an appropriate complement to tonight's concert...hope you like them as much as I do.

CLOUDY SKY
Charles Baudelaire

One would say that your gaze was veiled with mist;
Your mysterious eyes (are they blue, gray or green?)
Alternately tender, dreamy, cruel,
Reflect the indolence and pallor of the sky.

You call to mind those days, white, soft, and mild,
That make enchanted hearts burst into tears,
When, shaken by a mysterious, wracking pain,
The nerves, too wide-awake, jeer at the sleeping mind.

You resemble at times those gorgeous horizons
That the sun sets ablaze in the seasons of mist...
How resplendent you are, landscape drenched with rain,
Aflame with rays that fall from a cloudy sky!

O dangerous woman, O alluring climates!
Will I also adore your snow and your hoar-frost,
And can I draw from your implacable winter
Pleasures keener than iron or ice?


YOU DAMP SPRING EVENING
Emanuel von Geibel

You damp spring evening,
how much I enjoy you!
The sky is hung with clouds,
only here and there a star.

A gentle breath of love
blows as mild as the breeze,
and from every valley rises
a warm spring scent.

I would like to devise a song
equal to this evening,
but I cannot find a chord
as dark, mild and gentle.

[Serial_Apologist]

Not autumn (fall) but Winter, (since there must be something to look forward to), by the sadly overlooked 20th century poet John Smith

You are Winter
You are a landscape of snow
Or a sky of oblique cadences
Like the anticipation of dawn
Or a lake
Colourless as air made tangible
By frost

I love you
You are Winter

You are a garden of earth
Not a blade showing
I cannot guess how
The miraculous birth
Of your secrets
Takes place
In the unknowable mystery
Of your chilled silence
Preparing to love me

I know only
That your eyes gaze into me
So that I become night
And that your breath
Warms me with the possibility
Of small things
Coming into flower

It is for this
I love you
And though my arms
Are not ready to hold you
Because of the loosened tenderness
Of your especial being
I will let the air
Only vibrate
With a small celebration
Of words
Saying
I love you
You are winter

JOHN SMITH - Transcribed as best I can from Michael Garrick Sextet album "Black Marigolds" (1966)

I only wish there was a clip of this track to offer you, with its almost Koechlin-like bleak accompaniment of shifting bare fifths from Mike's piano. The recording is, I believe, obtainable.

Here is a musical representation of winter by a modern composer steeped in Zen, keenly missed...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GNWv571xTQM

[cavatina]

Here's another poem for you that's definitely "on topic"--Edna St. Vincent Millay's reaction to Beethoven in the aptly-named "On Hearing A Symphony of Beethoven". I'm also sharing two more seasonal-inspired love poems in the form of excerpts from E.A. Crowley's "A Paean in the Springtide" and "Ad Lydiam". Enjoy!


ON HEARING A SYMPHONY OF BEETHOVEN

Sweet sounds, oh, beautiful music, do not cease!
Reject me not into the world again.
With you alone is excellence and peace,
Mankind made plausible, his purpose plain.
Enchanted in your air benign and shrewd,
With limbs a-sprawl and empty faces pale,
The spiteful and the stingy and the rude
Sleep like the scullions in the fairy-tale.
This moment is the best the world can give:
The tranquil blossom on the tortured stem.
Reject me not, sweet sounds; oh, let me live,
Till Doom espy my towers and scatter them,
A city spell-bound under the aging sun.
Music my rampart, and my only one.


A PAEAN IN THE SPRINGTIDE

Where are the blooms of frost, hoary and bright and vestal;
Virginal lips not kissed, flowers unbidden to bud?
Ah! we have slain their beams, as our low heads lazily nestle,
Where the dark home of Love is, where the impatient blood
Spurts at the furious kiss, darts far forth as an adder,
Stinging and biting amain, as the night becomes golden with fire.
Dawn brings reason back, and the violet eyes grow sadder,
Eyes that were red in the dark, eyes of enfevered desire.
Eyes that wrote songs with a glance, whose look sang the
sweetest of stories,
Sweeter than lips could have told, who loved better only to kiss;
Sweeter than hands could have written, who took delight in
the glories
Fierce of a triple embrace, a fadeless implacable bliss.


AD LYDIAM

I know a valley walled with glistening steep
Of fire-hewn rock, and stately cliff of ice,
Filled with green lawns and forests black with pine,
Where the clear stream shall sing us into sleep
With murmuring faintly, and devine device:
Come with me there, and we will surely twine
Bright wreaths of Alpine gentian for thine head,
Those glowing tresses, auburn in the sun,
And in the night, dim fires of matchless red
To hold my love, and lead my kisses on
From night to night upon the purple bed
Of dark embraces; till the summer is gone
We will forget in love the world of tears
Whose tumult reaches not our amorous ears.

Come with me thither. Let the chaster snow
Blush at the sunset, when our limbs grow fain
To twine close caressing, let it blush
Redder at sunrise, when our eyelids grow
Weary of kissing, and our arms again
Slowly unclasp, and our fair cheeks do flush
With memory's modesty. The mountains glow
Warmer and whiter, dreamland's power shall wane
While the sun tints the beauty of the bush
And all the forest with his finger-tips
Of budding fire, and we surprised will wake
While Shadow's brush in darker colour dips,
And roam about the valley, and will take
Fresh delicate delight, with smiling lips.

Summer may die, but on the azure sea
That girdles warmer lands the sun will gleam;
There will we wander, over dale and how,
Sweet with green sward, faint flower, and tender tree.
There all the winter may we idly dream
Still of our love, and there forgetfulness
Of the past sorrow may steal o'er thy brow
In the new birth of stainless happiness,
Rich harvest of the blossoms desire,
Satisfied always, yet forever fresh
In hearts so passionate, and there may'st thou
Love to thy fullness, nor for ever tire
Of linking me to thee with dainty mesh
Of auburn ripples of delicious fire.

[eighthobstruction]

Well it's not often we get poems on here by the Great Beast [Aleister Crowley]....wonder what he was 'on', 'over' or 'under' when he thought that one up....

....Aleister certainly liked to ENJOY....

[Serial_Apologist]

I hadn't realised the poems were by Aleister Crowley...

If true, that's another nail in a certain coffin! That man was a complete ******* and I wouldn't **** on a single word written by him, let alone reproduce one of his poems as in some way representing sublimity and profundity.

Are you sure it's Aleister Crowley Tim? - I just speed-read my way through them.

[eighthobstruction]

He was born Edward Alexander Crowley I believe....

[Serial_Apologist]

He was born Edward Alexander Crowley I believe....

I just can't imagine anyone we discuss with on these boards reproducing Aleister Crowley's "thoughts" as poetry or anything else on these boards; I'm suspending further assumptions pending explanation.