PLAYING TO THE DOGS (a poem written during lesson in teacher's garden)

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.

From LUIS CLAUDIO MANFIO
Posted on August 26, 2010 at 11:19 AM

Ha! Very good! Congrats!!!

www.manfio.com

From Dion Ackermann
Posted on August 26, 2010 at 12:00 PM

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.

From di allen
Posted on August 28, 2010 at 6:41 PM

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

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