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It is not a mystical thing, however, it is obvious and practical and I think that what the performer does is to try to get to that point with every choice you make from the phrasing in a tune to the choice of tunes.

quote by Leo Kottke
Added by Lucian Velea
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Gettin In Tune

Im singing this note cause it fits in well
Im singing this note cause it fits in well
With the chords Im playing
With the chords Im playing
I cant pretend theres any meaning here
I cant pretend theres any meaning here
Or in the things Im saying
Or in the things Im saying
But Im in tune
But Im in tune
Right in tune
Right in tune
Im in tune
Im in tune
And Im gonna tune
And Im gonna tune
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
I get a little tired of having to say
I get a little tired of having to say
do you come here often?
Do you come here often?
But when I look in your eyes and see the harmonies
But when I look in your eyes and see the harmonies
And the heartaches soften
And the heartaches soften
Im getting in tune
Im getting in tune
Right in tune
Right in tune
Im in tune
Im in tune
And Im gonna tune
And Im gonna tune
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you
Right in on you
Ive got it all here in my head
Ive got it all here in my head
Theres nothing more needs to be said
Theres nothing more needs to be said
Im just bangin on my old piano
Im just bangin on my old piano

[...] Read more

song performed by Who
Added by Lucian Velea
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It Ain't Obvious

I keep trying
but I'm running out of ways to make you want me baby
I cannot be everything you want you drive me crazy
you're never satisfied
its not even worth a try times are for making up your mind
maybe we'll never see eye to eye

so treat me cruel to be kind
lets play it straight down the line
I'm sure you wanna be mine
but it ain't obvious

why cant you just let it be
what would you have me believe
I'm sure you really want me
but it ain't obvious

why don't you put a little trust in me
and let it go
if you don't take a chance
how will you ever know
baby im on your side

have I been foolish all along
have you been leading me on
just to walk away
if this is where you belong

so treat me cruel to be kind
lets play it straight down the line
I'm sure you wanna be mine
but it ain't obvious

why cant you just let it be
what would you have me believe
I'm sure you really want me
but it ain't obvious

but it ain't obvious
but it ain't obvious
but it ain't obvious
but it ain't obvious

come on wont you be with me
what would you have me believe
come on wont you be with me
oh no no

if its not even worth a try times are for making up your mind
maybe we'll never see eye to eye

[...] Read more

song performed by Gareth Gates from What My Heart Wants To Say
Added by Lucian Velea
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Instant Tunes

Instant tunes only just been made
Instant songs never to be played
Instant tunes hanging out to dry
Let me try to introduce you to
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Ever and ever will they give us pleasure
Their instant, still instant
Like mother used to make it -- oh!
Instant tunes give instant cash
Make me want to start a backlash
Let me have the recipe
And make me some lovely, lovely
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Ever and ever will they give us pleasure
Their instant, still instant
Like mother used to make it -- oh!
Ever and ever will they give us pleasure
Their instant, still instant
Like mother used to make it -- oh!
Instant tunes give instant cash
Make me want to start a backlash
Let me have the recipe
And make me some lovely, lovely
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes
Instant tunes

song performed by Xtc
Added by Lucian Velea
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Eroica, Eroica, Eroica

Beethoven Third Symphony
A Beethoven master piece
The First Movement
The music starts softly and sweet
Picks soon with full force
In charm awakening
With the orchestra in full display
Loud with majestic power
We are overwhelmed
No place to go
We are exhausted
He relieves us now
With soft melody that follows
He has master command
The music comes quick in flurry
with persistent repetition
We are whipped with emotions
The music comes back again and again
In fresh successive succession
Like a boy coming hurriedly in the field
The tunes comes back
Haunting us in familiar rhythm
It is over and over again
Filling and nourishing our soul
Some sound comes again
From far away
Like someone we knew
Calling us softly,
Gently and beautifully
Racing and touching our heart
The old familiar tune
Comes back and back again
Teasing us
With power
Hurriedly closing on us
The music casts some sadness
The familiar tune comes back
Full of charm

Second Movement
A faint sad sound
So sad
Like funeral procession
The same tune comes back
dressed in sadness
So sad
Revival the music comes strong

Third Movement

[...] Read more

poem by Sherif Monem
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Passion

The keys to notes play tunes of loss,
Tunes of longing, tunes of blues.
'Til metal enshrouding the air does trump with
Tunes of longing, tunes of blues.
Wood and string provide a base for
Tunes of longing, tunes of blues.
Encased in brass belong the bones of
Tunes of longing, tunes of blues.
Emblems and traps do kick and swear by
Tunes of longing, tunes of blues.

Until laughter disturbs this sweet eden,
My tortured soul lies bare.
I leave my emotions encapsulated
In sonic vibrations of air.

The tunes of longing and tunes of blues
Are played until the eve
When players no longer respect their tears
And thus, themselves, deceive.

poem by Liam O'Brien
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No Point

J. spinks
This aint working out
Its not worth the time I spent on it
When Ive been next to you
Its not the way you want it
And all I wanna do
Is get away and as far away from it
Theres no point cos Im not winning
Theres no point going back to the beginning
Theres no point to keep on waiting
Theres no point in talking it over
Theres no point in getting any closer
If it was up to you
Wed go around in circles forever
Theres nothing left to do
I go around - around in you
Ive tried to see it through
All Ive seen is the stormy weather
Theres no point in still pretending
Theres no point cos this is never ending
Theres no point in keep on trying
Theres no point to carry on lying
Theres no point acting like children
Theres no point cos this time Im gone
Theres no point in talking it over
Theres no point in getting any close
Theres no point in still pretending
Theres no point cos this is never ending
Theres no point in keep on trying
Theres no point to carry on lying
Theres no point in talking it over
Theres no point in getting any closer
Theres no point cos Im not winning
Theres no point going back to the beginning
Theres no point in hesitating
Theres no point tonight
Theres no point at all

song performed by Outfield
Added by Lucian Velea
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Rubaiyat Of A Robin - After Edward Fitzgerald - Rubaiyat Of Omar Khayyam

Jest plays with rubaiyat and, four by four,
unseals for your amusement more and more
verses together thread in rosary
unreeled to bloom till tomb will curtains draw.

Repealed are value judgement and perspective
revealed through standpoint purely introspective,
darkside concealed of moon’s yin-yang shines clear
when we’re in orbit, - option more effective.

Rolled form performs rôle midwife to perception,
sprung tongue in cheek, tweaks sense of imperfection
or willingness to leach between the lines,
impeach entrenched ideas of self-[s]election.

This prose arose as stream deprived of section,
where ‘dip at will’ will still sustain inspection,
the current’s sense, at odds with current views
ignores round holes, square pegs, top-down direction.

Here there’s no fear of critics’ peer rejection,
contention treated with due circumspection
intention is to mention for retention
an overview or clue to extrospection.

Life’s curtains are a veil through which few see,
as many haste taste-waste eternity,
mixed up, ignore life fixes finite sum
to/through infinite opportunity.

Can “Truth” exist? all ask, who seek its core,
we, modest, etch our words to sketch the score,
diverse the verses which converge to link
reflections mirrored many times before.

Vast content, style, a while, united are,
aim at soul stimulation, nothing bar,
to pleasure, treasure, or discard at will
as minds outreach to other minds on par.

Meditating, we shed light on what
tomorrow’s tot may factor into ‘bot’ -
the poet’s lot, forgot, to help all think
ahead of time, enhance life for a lot

Some seek Nirvana, Faith speaks more than “how”.
Others reject Salvation’s wraith, - w[h]ine “now”.
Verifying facts? Inventing dreams?
Each furrow-burrows with a different plough.

[...] Read more

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Mystical Rain

Beautiful lights that glare before me,
Magic delights you allow me to see.

Mystical Rain in the sky up above,
Mystical Rain throwing stardust of love.

A surreal sight as I stand and adore,
Leading the way - so that men reach the shore.

Mystical Rain in the air all around,
Mystical Rain making love without sound.

Marvelous specks of desire in my view,
Lightly you peck at my face like the dew.

Mystical Rain; blue metallic and green.
Mystical Rain; play your tune quite serene.

A show so alive as you dart through the sky,
Helping planes through the mist, where pilots do fly.

Mystical Rain; shine your light in my path.
Mystical Rain warm my heart; make me laugh.

poem by Angel Crabtree
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Mr. Moon

Written by jay kay, toby smith and stuart zender
Whooo wo wo now
Have you gone astray or lost your way?
You should have seen me yesterday,
Well i knew this kind of love was written in the stars
It's only once or twice that you're inline with mr.moon
Then it was you...
You took me on your cloud
Give me flowers for my pain
But with some degree my destiny seemed to slip away from me
Before i got to now your name...
Just give me a chance
I'll do what you want me to
Everybody wants to dance, so how come i can't dance with you
You really turn me on
You're the one that makes me smile...
It's mr moon who plays in tune,
Mr moon who knows
And if it's mr. moon who gives the sign then that's the sign that goes on
I never know what to do till i'm there with you....
Eh....all right on....
Did you lose your mind or for a day?
You don't remember anyway...
Like the waters of a dream encapsulate my mind
A place i haven't seen sits a the end of space and time
So lost in love...
Than i think i'm blind...
To purchanse upon this circumstance,
It's something of a miracle so spiritual it's verging on the physical...
Searching for a love i cannot find...
Oh, now i'm lost in your love...
Now i'm lost, and i don't know when to turn,
Now i'm lost in your, now i'm lost in your love...
Parira parira...parira parira...
(just play my tune, oh mr. moon)
Just play my tune, just play my tune
Just play my tune, just play my tune
Just play my tune, just play my tune
Ooooh la la, la lara lo la la, lalala...
Just give me a chance
I'll do what you want me to
Everybody wants to dance, so how come i can't dance with you
You really turn me on
You're the one that makes me smile...yeah......oh!
It's mr moon who plays in tune,
Mr moon who knows
And if it's mr. moon who gives the sign then that's the sign that goes on
I never know what to do till i'm there with you....
Eh, eh....oh now....
Oh mr. moon play that tune for me...

[...] Read more

song performed by Jamiroquai
Added by Lucian Velea
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Prince Hohenstiel-Schwangau, Saviour of Society

Epigraph

Υδραν φονεύσας, μυρίων τ᾽ ἄλλων πόνων
διῆλθον ἀγέλας . . .
τὸ λοίσθιον δὲ τόνδ᾽ ἔτλην τάλας πόνον,
. . . δῶμα θριγκῶσαι κακοῖς.

I slew the Hydra, and from labour pass'd
To labour — tribes of labours! Till, at last,
Attempting one more labour, in a trice,
Alack, with ills I crowned the edifice.

You have seen better days, dear? So have I —
And worse too, for they brought no such bud-mouth
As yours to lisp "You wish you knew me!" Well,
Wise men, 't is said, have sometimes wished the same,
And wished and had their trouble for their pains.
Suppose my Œdipus should lurk at last
Under a pork-pie hat and crinoline,
And, latish, pounce on Sphynx in Leicester Square?
Or likelier, what if Sphynx in wise old age,
Grown sick of snapping foolish people's heads,
And jealous for her riddle's proper rede, —
Jealous that the good trick which served the turn
Have justice rendered it, nor class one day
With friend Home's stilts and tongs and medium-ware,—
What if the once redoubted Sphynx, I say,
(Because night draws on, and the sands increase,
And desert-whispers grow a prophecy)
Tell all to Corinth of her own accord.
Bright Corinth, not dull Thebes, for Lais' sake,
Who finds me hardly grey, and likes my nose,
And thinks a man of sixty at the prime?
Good! It shall be! Revealment of myself!
But listen, for we must co-operate;
I don't drink tea: permit me the cigar!
First, how to make the matter plain, of course —
What was the law by which I lived. Let 's see:
Ay, we must take one instant of my life
Spent sitting by your side in this neat room:
Watch well the way I use it, and don't laugh!
Here's paper on the table, pen and ink:
Give me the soiled bit — not the pretty rose!
See! having sat an hour, I'm rested now,
Therefore want work: and spy no better work
For eye and hand and mind that guides them both,
During this instant, than to draw my pen
From blot One — thus — up, up to blot Two — thus —
Which I at last reach, thus, and here's my line
Five inches long and tolerably straight:

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning (1871)
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Catatonica

As our duet of love, a performance shown, is put upon display for vulgar eyes on the floor; the lights change with painted overlooks splashing their palette of watercolours over our moving bodies.

To the beat we dance, our tune a virgin, for the tune's beat that we dance to is no longer a mere dance away, our dance must fly with this tune in time with the tune's beat and in beat with our dance that we synced to this tune.

We tune our bodies in, tune them perfectly together with not just the beat and our dance, but with each other's minds and each other's hearts.

Within our thin, weak, skinny minds our thoughts think their own thoughts, deeper within our thought's tune and beat it dances inside a caved-in thought of the thinking tune's rhythmic beat timing itself to our dance.

Matching in the sky, our steps amaze, no tune can support us on its waves of notes and colons and no beat can out-beat us in it's own tragedy of percussion.

Our dance is a shaman of ritual love, packaged under the moon's eye for all to see and admire in its own tunefully-beating-dancing light.

We are going to dance forever, dance until there's no dance left in us, dance until our blood mixes with each others and our soul's diseases decay with one another's and we become the dance.

The tune we create in our minds is that of purity, no one will hear this tune except for us. Me and You.

The beats will never fade, no stamp stopped too sincerely, no stomp slacking too slowly.

We're going to dance, we're going to dance, we're going to dance. We're going to dance to our own beat, to our own tune, and to our own love.

poem by April Abigail
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Getting To The Point

Its out of control (out of control)
And theres nothing I can do now
Out of control (out of control)
Spinning softly through the blue now
And look beyond these walls
As the meaning starts to dawn
Its getting to the point
Getting to the point.
Its out of control (nothing I can do)
Like a fire that keeps on burning
And nobody knows (what Im going through)
And the thoughts just keep returning
And all you had to say
Was that you were gonna stay
Its getting to the point
Getting to the point.
Chorus:
Its getting to the point
Where nobody can stop it now
Its getting to the point
Of no return
And all that I can do
Is stand and watch it now
Watch it burn, burn, burn
Its getting to the point
Where reasons are forgotten
Its getting to the point
Where no one knows
And all that I can do
Is say Im sorry
But thats the way it goes...
Getting to the point.
Forever
Is a long, long way
Forever
Takes your breath away
Id like to talk about it, try to understand
Its getting to the point
Getting to the point.
Repeat chorus
Its getting to the point (getting to the point)
Getting to the point (getting to the point)
Its getting to the point (getting to the point)
Getting to the point.

song performed by Electric Light Orchestra
Added by Lucian Velea
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IX. Juris Doctor Johannes-Baptista Bottinius, Fisci et Rev. Cam. Apostol. Advocatus

Had I God's leave, how I would alter things!
If I might read instead of print my speech,—
Ay, and enliven speech with many a flower
Refuses obstinate to blow in print,
As wildings planted in a prim parterre,—
This scurvy room were turned an immense hall;
Opposite, fifty judges in a row;
This side and that of me, for audience—Rome:
And, where yon window is, the Pope should hide—
Watch, curtained, but peep visibly enough.
A buzz of expectation! Through the crowd,
Jingling his chain and stumping with his staff,
Up comes an usher, louts him low, "The Court
"Requires the allocution of the Fisc!"
I rise, I bend, I look about me, pause
O'er the hushed multitude: I count—One, two—

Have ye seen, Judges, have ye, lights of law,—
When it may hap some painter, much in vogue
Throughout our city nutritive of arts,
Ye summon to a task shall test his worth,
And manufacture, as he knows and can,
A work may decorate a palace-wall,
Afford my lords their Holy Family,—
Hath it escaped the acumen of the Court
How such a painter sets himself to paint?
Suppose that Joseph, Mary and her Babe
A-journeying to Egypt, prove the piece:
Why, first he sedulously practiseth,
This painter,—girding loin and lighting lamp,—
On what may nourish eye, make facile hand;
Getteth him studies (styled by draughtsmen so)
From some assistant corpse of Jew or Turk
Or, haply, Molinist, he cuts and carves,—
This Luca or this Carlo or the like.
To him the bones their inmost secret yield,
Each notch and nodule signify their use:
On him the muscles turn, in triple tier,
And pleasantly entreat the entrusted man
"Familiarize thee with our play that lifts
"Thus, and thus lowers again, leg, arm and foot!"
—Ensuring due correctness in the nude.
Which done, is all done? Not a whit, ye know!
He,—to art's surface rising from her depth,—
If some flax-polled soft-bearded sire be found,
May simulate a Joseph, (happy chance!)—
Limneth exact each wrinkle of the brow,
Loseth no involution, cheek or chap,
Till lo, in black and white, the senior lives!
Is it a young and comely peasant-nurse

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Point Blank

Do you still say your prayers little darlin do you go to bed at night
Prayin that tomorrow, everything will be alright
But tommorows fall in number in number one by one
You wake up and youre dying you dont even know what from
Well they shot you point blank you been shot in the back
Baby point blank you been fooled this time little girl thats a fact
Right between the eyes baby, point blank right between the pretty lies that
They tell
Little girl you fell
You grew up where young girls they grow up fast
You took what you were handed and left behind what was asked
But what they asked baby wasnt right you didnt have to live that life,
I was gonna be your romeo you were gonna be my juliet
These days you dont wait on romeos you wait on that welfare check and on all the pretty things that you cant ever have and on all the promises
That always end up point blank, shot between the eyes
Point blank like little white lies you tell to ease the pain
Youre walkin in the sights, girl of point blank
And its one false move and baby the lights go out
Once I dreamed we were together again baby you and me
Back home in those old clubs the way we used to be
We were standin at the bar it was hard to hear
The band was playin loud and you were shoutin somethin in my ear
You pulled my jacket off and as the drummer counted four
You grabbed my hand and pulled me out on the floor
You just stood there and held me, then you started dancin slow
And as I pulled you tighter I swore Id never let you go
Well I saw you last night down on the avenue
Your face was in the shadows but I knew that it was you
You were standin in the doorway out of the rain
You didnt answer when I called out your name
You just turned, and then you looked away like just another stranger waitin to get blown away
Point blank, right between the eyes
Point blank, right between the pretty lies you fell
Point blank, shot right through the heart
Yea point blank, youve been twisted up till youve become just another part of it
Point blank, youre walkin in the sights
Point blank, livin one false move just one false move away
Point blank, they caught you in their sights
Point blank, did you forget how to love, girl, did you forget how to fight.
Point blank they must have shot you in the head
Cause point blank, bang bang baby youre dead.

song performed by Bruce Springsteen
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Ol' Tunes

YOU kin talk about yer anthems
An' yer arias an' sich,
An' yer modern choir-singin'
That you think so awful rich;
But you orter heerd us youngsters
In the times now far away,
A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.
There was some of us sung treble
An' a few of us growled bass,
An' the tide o' song flowed smoothly
With its 'comp'niment o' grace;
There was spirit in that music,
An' a kind o' solemn sway,
A-singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.
I remember oft o' standin'
In my homespun pantaloons—
On my face the bronze an' freckles
O' the suns o' youthful Junes—
Thinkin' that no mortal minstrel
Ever chanted sich a lay
As the ol' tunes we was singin'
In the ol'-fashioned way.
The boys 'ud always lead ,as,
An' the girls 'ud all chime in,
Till the sweetness o' the singin'
Robbed the list'nin' soul o' sin;
An' I used to tell the parson
'Twas as good to sing as pray,
When the people sung the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.
How I long ag'in to hear 'em
Pourin' forth from soul to soul,
With the treble high an' meller,
An' the bass's mighty roll;
But the times is very diff'rent,
An' the music heerd to-day
Ain't the singin' o' the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.
Little screechin' by a woman,
Little squawkin' by a man,
Then the organ's twiddle-twaddle,
Jest the empty space to span, —
An' ef you should even think it,
'T isn't proper fur to say
That you want to hear the ol' tunes
In the ol'-fashioned way.
But I think that some bright mornin',
When the toils of life air o'er,

[...] Read more

poem by Paul Laurence Dunbar
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Choices

Leaders are guilty of nothing
They're perfectly insane
But if they'd point the finger at themselves
Who would be left to blame
Lead into grace
Lead to corruption
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo
A truth or lie has to be spoken
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo
King or con has to be chosen
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo
Way of life complete or broken...broken
Choices
No more...choices
No more...choices
No more...choices
Leaders are guilty of nothing
They're perfectly insane
But if they'd point the finger at themselves
Who would be left to blame
Follow truth or stutter through a lie
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo
Will to push or give up and fall behind
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo
Live with peace or nurture your tragic life
Ini-Mini-Miny-Mo
Bite the bullet or swallow it whole
Leaders are guilty of nothing
They're perfectly insane
But if they'd point the finger at themselves
Who would be left to blame
Point the finger at yourself
There's no choice
Anymore anyway...
We don't have a choice
Anymore anyway
We don't have a voice
Anymore Anyway
There's no choice in freedom
There's no voice in freedom
We don't have a choice
Anymore anyway
We don't have a voice
Anymore anyway
There's no choice in freedom
There's no voice in freedom
Leaders are guilty of nothing
They're perfectly insane
But if they'd point the finger at themselves
Who would be left to blame

[...] Read more

song performed by Mudvayne
Added by Lucian Velea
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Barbarella Fortuneteller

If you want to know whats written in the stars
And youre in rio, go-to barbarellas bar
With a magic circle as that company
Today she writes tomorrows diary
Barbarella, magical barbarella
Mystical fortuneteller
Painting a sky of blue
Do you know barbarella, magical barbarella
Mystical fortuneteller
Selling your dreams to you
Oh oh oh, oh...
Oh oh oh, oh...
You take a look into her gypsy eyes
Youll get the feeling
That she never ever lies
She will seduce you with that misty look
Shes gonna read you like an open book
Barbarella, magical barbarella
Mystical fortuneteller
Painting a sky of blue
Do you know barbarella, magical barbarella
Mystical fortuneteller
Selling your dreams to you
Oh oh oh, oh...
Oh oh oh, oh...
Heya, heya, make the furure very clear
Dont you be too shy!
Heya, heya, while you whisper in my ear
Tell another lie
Barbarella, magical barbarella
Mystical fortuneteller
Selling your dreams to you
Oh oh oh, oh...
Oh oh oh, oh...
Oh oh oh, oh...
Barbarella, magical barbarella
Mystical fortuneteller

song performed by Boney M.
Added by Lucian Velea
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V. Count Guido Franceschini

Thanks, Sir, but, should it please the reverend Court,
I feel I can stand somehow, half sit down
Without help, make shift to even speak, you see,
Fortified by the sip of … why, 't is wine,
Velletri,—and not vinegar and gall,
So changed and good the times grow! Thanks, kind Sir!
Oh, but one sip's enough! I want my head
To save my neck, there's work awaits me still.
How cautious and considerate … aie, aie, aie,
Nor your fault, sweet Sir! Come, you take to heart
An ordinary matter. Law is law.
Noblemen were exempt, the vulgar thought,
From racking; but, since law thinks otherwise,
I have been put to the rack: all's over now,
And neither wrist—what men style, out of joint:
If any harm be, 't is the shoulder-blade,
The left one, that seems wrong i' the socket,—Sirs,
Much could not happen, I was quick to faint,
Being past my prime of life, and out of health.
In short, I thank you,—yes, and mean the word.
Needs must the Court be slow to understand
How this quite novel form of taking pain,
This getting tortured merely in the flesh,
Amounts to almost an agreeable change
In my case, me fastidious, plied too much
With opposite treatment, used (forgive the joke)
To the rasp-tooth toying with this brain of mine,
And, in and out my heart, the play o' the probe.
Four years have I been operated on
I' the soul, do you see—its tense or tremulous part—
My self-respect, my care for a good name,
Pride in an old one, love of kindred—just
A mother, brothers, sisters, and the like,
That looked up to my face when days were dim,
And fancied they found light there—no one spot,
Foppishly sensitive, but has paid its pang.
That, and not this you now oblige me with,
That was the Vigil-torment, if you please!
The poor old noble House that drew the rags
O' the Franceschini's once superb array
Close round her, hoped to slink unchallenged by,—
Pluck off these! Turn the drapery inside out
And teach the tittering town how scarlet wears!
Show men the lucklessness, the improvidence
Of the easy-natured Count before this Count,
The father I have some slight feeling for,
Who let the world slide, nor foresaw that friends
Then proud to cap and kiss their patron's shoe,
Would, when the purse he left held spider-webs,
Properly push his child to wall one day!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Music

I

PRELUDE

Daughter of Psyche, pledge of that last night
When, pierced with pain and bitter-sweet delight,
She knew her Love and saw her Lord depart,
Then breathed her wonder and her woe forlorn
Into a single cry, and thou wast born?
Thou flower of rapture and thou fruit of grief;
Invisible enchantress of the heart;
Mistress of charms that bring relief
To sorrow, and to joy impart
A heavenly tone that keeps it undefiled,--
Thou art the child
Of Amor, and by right divine
A throne of love is thine,
Thou flower-folded, golden-girdled, star-crowned Queen,
Whose bridal beauty mortal eyes have never seen!

II

Thou art the Angel of the pool that sleeps,
While peace and joy lie hidden in its deeps,
Waiting thy touch to make the waters roll
In healing murmurs round the weary soul.
Ah, when wilt thou draw near,
Thou messenger of mercy robed in song?
My lonely heart has listened for thee long;
And now I seem to hear
Across the crowded market-place of life,
Thy measured foot-fall, ringing light and clear
Above the unmeaning noises and the unruly strife;
In quiet cadence, sweet and slow,
Serenely pacing to and fro,
Thy far-off steps are magical and dear.
Ah, turn this way, come close and speak to me!
>From this dull bed of languor set my spirit free,
And bid me rise, and let me walk awhile with thee

III

Where wilt thou lead me first?
In what still region
Of thy domain,
Whose provinces are legion,
Wilt thou restore me to myself again,
And quench my heart's long thirst?

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Van Dyke
Added by Poetry Lover
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For Shrill The Piper Plays His Tune

When thoughts are idle wanderings
Words tumbled round and round
When feelings they turn inwardly
Still I hear the piper's sound.

When happiness is broken
And the Kings and Queens are gone
The piper's tune keeps playing
And I hear his victory song.

For even when awoken
From the sleepiness of time
There's a distant music playing
Heard clear within my mind

For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.

No-one has seen this piper man
And no-one has seen him play
But we all can hear his mournfulness
And fear for what he'll say
No folds of fathered cornfields
And no breaking of the bread
The piper's tune keeps playing
With his words as yet unsaid.

For shrill the piper plays his tune
That beckons every day
And when his tune is full played out
He carries us away.

We can all hear if we but try
The piper's song so sweet
The musings and meanderings
Of souls lost whole complete
No piper plays before we're born
Before we touch the earth
The piper's tunes they all begin
From the moment of our birth.

For shrill the piper plays his tune
Like happiness disease'd
And all the notes that he plays out
Are our moments ill at ease.

Not one of us pays him to play
Nor gives him any score

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poem by David Keig
Added by Poetry Lover
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