Okay, believe it or not, I did actually write the following poem with cycles in mind. I'm not sure how clearly it came through...
Written in the form of a sonata, which you can read about here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonata_form) if you're interested. Written mostly to the sound of Yo-Yo Ma playing Beethoven's cello sonatas. check youtube if you're interested
Just to clarify: a la orilla del mar = by the shores of the sea
a la luz de la luna = by moonlight (therefore, la luna = the moon)
What do you think of the format? Do you like the way I've broken up the "solo" and "accompaniment"? Does it work?
As usual: how well does the imagery flow? Do you like the images themselves? Do they fit well together?
How do you like the repetitions? Is the "theme" (by which I mean musical theme, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theme_%28music%29 for reference) fairly evident?
Any other thoughts?
"A la Orilla de la Luna
Cello Sonata in E minor with piano accompaniment"
La luna brushes
The spirits in their seasons
Against the wall,
Then tilts and turns
Toward darkness.
A la luz de la luna,
The dead tilt and turn
By the light of the moon.
she says it with a smile
that cuts your
knees out from under you:
'a la orilla del mar.'
by the shores of the sea,
in the season of snow
she still grows up from the earth -
saw-grass climbing dune crests.
the magician wolf-child
twists her fingers
and does not trust her words
the whole of winter -
and in spring
a spade turns the garden
from weed-green to brown,
flames turn the fields
from brown to volcanic black,
while, cello between her knees,
she plays to the ghosts
who know her name,
plays her cello
to the red wallpaper
soft as cream.
The black water
Beneath la luna
Shines pewter at
Its wave-crests.
The salt smells
Like summer hurricanes.
a la orilla del mar
the sand still clings to
the heat of the day.
the milky way
is a waving field
of wheat and silver barley grass,
and the wolf-child's padding feet
track sand inside the house.
she plays
with sand under her fingernails,
and her spirits
kneel and bow
to pick it out of the carpet.
their faces are painted
on the red wallpaper -
red
like the fires
in early spring fields.
and the magician
runs her fingers
through the barley grass
to teach it to sing.
With a sigh
La luna turns away from the sun.
'a la orilla del mar,'
she says with a smile like cream.
she grows up from dune crests
with her cello between her knees
and autumn leaves
burning into the carpet,
returns her ghosts
to what they once were
as crumbled leaves
and old wheat stalks,
brown and gold as ashes.
a la orilla del mar
the cello-player
sends the spirits to the earth,
And autumn fades
To the season of snow,
A la luz de la luna.
Written in the form of a sonata, which you can read about here (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sonata_form) if you're interested. Written mostly to the sound of Yo-Yo Ma playing Beethoven's cello sonatas. check youtube if you're interested
Just to clarify: a la orilla del mar = by the shores of the sea
a la luz de la luna = by moonlight (therefore, la luna = the moon)
What do you think of the format? Do you like the way I've broken up the "solo" and "accompaniment"? Does it work?
As usual: how well does the imagery flow? Do you like the images themselves? Do they fit well together?
How do you like the repetitions? Is the "theme" (by which I mean musical theme, see http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Theme_%28music%29 for reference) fairly evident?
Any other thoughts?
"A la Orilla de la Luna
Cello Sonata in E minor with piano accompaniment"
La luna brushes
The spirits in their seasons
Against the wall,
Then tilts and turns
Toward darkness.
A la luz de la luna,
The dead tilt and turn
By the light of the moon.
she says it with a smile
that cuts your
knees out from under you:
'a la orilla del mar.'
by the shores of the sea,
in the season of snow
she still grows up from the earth -
saw-grass climbing dune crests.
the magician wolf-child
twists her fingers
and does not trust her words
the whole of winter -
and in spring
a spade turns the garden
from weed-green to brown,
flames turn the fields
from brown to volcanic black,
while, cello between her knees,
she plays to the ghosts
who know her name,
plays her cello
to the red wallpaper
soft as cream.
The black water
Beneath la luna
Shines pewter at
Its wave-crests.
The salt smells
Like summer hurricanes.
a la orilla del mar
the sand still clings to
the heat of the day.
the milky way
is a waving field
of wheat and silver barley grass,
and the wolf-child's padding feet
track sand inside the house.
she plays
with sand under her fingernails,
and her spirits
kneel and bow
to pick it out of the carpet.
their faces are painted
on the red wallpaper -
red
like the fires
in early spring fields.
and the magician
runs her fingers
through the barley grass
to teach it to sing.
With a sigh
La luna turns away from the sun.
'a la orilla del mar,'
she says with a smile like cream.
she grows up from dune crests
with her cello between her knees
and autumn leaves
burning into the carpet,
returns her ghosts
to what they once were
as crumbled leaves
and old wheat stalks,
brown and gold as ashes.
a la orilla del mar
the cello-player
sends the spirits to the earth,
And autumn fades
To the season of snow,
A la luz de la luna.
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