August 25, 2010 at 7:29 PM
PLAYING TO THE DOGS
they've come for the musicians, not the music
they're not concerned about legato, rubato, allegro or
pizzicatto (they're bored by open strings)
the only vibrato is in their tails
Do they prefer the sleepy languor of D minor,
the bright clarity of A major,
or the work-a-day stolidity of the key of C?
The violins may be screechy or sublime,
halting or heavenly, it's all the same
it's the price of a bowl of food.
Buddha stands watching, contemplating,
knows that flowers, animals, people, music
are transitory, ephemeral
Only the cosmos is eternal.
Ha! Very good! Congrats!!!
When the atom bomb cloud was rising above the desert in New Mexico the Indian Chief sitting on a hill nearby said "how, me wish me spoke that." Me wish me wrote that Di.
thanks to both of you, dion and luis. and luis, i have a luthier's poem too, and when i can rewrite it a bit, will send it to you. meanwhile, why call yourself a luthier if you do not make lutes? i deal with this in the poem, and also speak of 'forest-scented shavings' on the workshop floor. actually, my luthier (who fixed my fiddle) used this wonderful phrase. perhaps musical instruments are the best, or only, reason to cut down forests.....??????diane
This entry has been archived and is no longer accepting comments.