Tag Archives: poetry

SUNDAY MIX – RHYTHM AND DRUMBEATS

This weeks’ Sunday Mix of Electronic Music and Poetry has the theme of Rhythm and Drumbeats and starts with a wonderfully rhythmic piece from an Electronic Pioneer.

I travelled over land and seas, until I came to laughter’s home.
I met a woman heavy with child,
‘you are heavy with child too,’ stated the woman.
‘Yes,’ said I. ‘Heavy with sound.’
I shared my sound, she bore a bouncing baby.

I travelled over land and seas,
Until I came to music’s home.
I met a village singer.
‘you must be the bringer of rhythm,’ stated the singer.
‘yes,’ said I. I bring you beats and music notes,
I shared my beats, the music had rhythm.

I travelled over land and seas,
Until I came to a children’s game,
the leader posing tricky riddles,
‘it talks, it sings and cheers but has no mouth.’
‘the drum, ‘ answered the children in unison.
I enjoyed my moment in the sun.

I travelled over land and seas,
Until I came before an old woman,
Wisdom marks in her beaming countenance,
She prepared a place for me next to her.
‘this is for you, oh! Messenger’ said she to me.

I travelled over land and seas,
Until I came to a ritual ceremony,
invited amidst ululation,
I showed them the drum beat,
I showed them how it brings harmony.

Beat! beat! drums!—blow! bugles! blow!
Make no parley—stop for no expostulation,
Mind not the timid—mind not the weeper or prayer,
Mind not the old man beseeching the young man,
Let not the child’s voice be heard, nor the mother’s entreaties,
Make even the trestles to shake the dead where they lie awaiting the hearses,
So strong you thump O terrible drums—so loud you bugles blow.
Beat! Beat! Drums!

some waves
a wave of now
a trombone speaking to you
a piano is trying to break a molecule
is trying to lift the stage into orbit
around the red spotlights

a shadow
the shadows      of dancers
dancers     they are dancing    falling
out that space      made for dancing

they should dance
on the tables            they should
dance inside of their drinks
they should dance on the
ceiling they should dance/dance

thru universes
leaning-moving
we are traveling

where are we going
if we only knew

with this rhythm    with
this banging     with     fire
with this     all    this    O
my god i wonder    where are
we going
sink into a room full of laughter
full of happiness     full of life
those dancers
the dancers
are clapping their hands
stomping their feet

hold back them tears
all those sentimental stories
cooked uptown       if you can           hold it for after

we are going
away-away-away
beyond these wooden tables
beyond these red lights
beyond these rugs & paper
walls beyond way past
i mean way past them clouds
over the buildings    over the
rivers    over towns    over cities
like on rails   but faster   like
a train    but smoother
away past stars
bursting with drums.

2

a sudden misunderstanding
a cloud
full of grayness
a body thru a store window
a hand reaching
into the back
pocket
a scream
a piano is talking to you
thru all this
why don’t you answer it.

Latin and Soul
Victor Hernández Cruz, 1949

SUNDAY MIX – WALKING

 Every Sunday I put together a mix loosely based around a theme, as I think that music and poetry go so well together and since today I went for a stroll along the seafront to blow the cobwebs away, todays theme is Walking

My eyes already touch the sunny hill.
going far ahead of the road I have begun.
So we are grasped by what we cannot grasp;
it has inner light, even from a distance-

and charges us, even if we do not reach it,
into something else, which, hardly sensing it,
we already are; a gesture waves us on
answering our own wave…
but what we feel is the wind in our faces.

Rainer Maria Rilke (1875 – 1926)

Rain so dark I
can’t get through—
train going by
in a hurry. The voice
said walk or die, I
walked,—the train
and the voice all
blurry. I walked with
my bones and my heart
of chalk, not even
a splintered notion:
days of thought, nights
of worry,—lonesome
train in a hurry.

 

 

I will have been walking away:
no matter what direction I intended,
at that moment, I will have been walking
Away into the direction that you now say
I have always intended, no matter what my
intention was then, I will have been
Walking away, though it will not be clear
what it was that I was leaving or
even why, it seems that you will say
That always, I was walking away,
intending a direction that was not towards
you, but moving away with every step,
Or, even when I pretended to be walking
towards you, only making the place
for my feet to go backwards,
Away, where I will have been walking,
always away:   intention and direction
unknown, but knowing you will always
say I will have been walking away.
A Kind of Villanelle

 

 

Poems courtesy of Poetry Foundation

FEMINATRONIC SUNDAY MIX – THE POETRY OF E.E.CUMMINGS

It’s American Poetry month and The Sunday Mixes are all linked to the celebrations.

Last week was In Praise of Trees and this week is a celebration of the poetry of E.E.Cummings,  beginning with this article –

SONNETS AND UNREALITIES – BJORK AND E E CUMMINGS

bjork-970x721

QUEEN MOBS TEAHOUSE

i will wade out
till my thighs are steeped in burning flowers
I will take the sun in my mouth
and leap into the ripe air
Alive
with closed eyes
to dash against darkness
in the sleeping curves of my body
Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery
with chasteness of sea-girls
Will i complete the mystery
of my flesh
I will rise
After a thousand years
lipping
flowers
And set my teeth in the silver of the moon

it may not always be so; and i say
that if your lips,which i have loved,should touch
another’s,and your dear strong fingers clutch
his heart,as mine in time not far away;
if on another’s face your sweet hair lay
in such silence as i know,or such
great writhing words as,uttering overmuch,
stand helplessly before the spirit at bay;

if this should be,i say if this should be—
you of my heart,send me a little word;
that i may go unto him,and take his hands,
saying,Accept all happiness from me.
Then shall i turn my face,and hear one bird
sing terribly afar in the lost lands

National Poetry Month April 2015