Tag Archives: Classical

On Chopin

 

What does it take
To write like Chopin
Seamlessly blending two voices
One steady, one light but sad
Complement, overlay one another
Right and left hands
High and low
Yin and yang
Together expressing
The integral beauty, and tragedy, and beauty in tragedy
Joy and laughter that it is to be human
It pains it pleases it pauses
It hits highs
It goes lows
Together, but separately highlighting each other

Negative space                 Emphasises

One voice holds, the other can be heard
Once the other is heard it becomes negative space
For as long as it repeats the same theme

Negative space
Deep breath

All of the pathos
None of the drama.

Feel it hard
Say it light.

Gently
Makes for delicate work

Patience

Then it builds, builds,
To a crescendo
Like everything in life
It will die
But it makes a valiant last effort to survive.
Everything dies.
Even the beautiful.
Especially the beautiful.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

 

Violet Sonnet

I am bad at rhyming! I know it’s in me because when I was a kid I loved writing rhyming poems (really corny stuff, if I can dig them up I’ll show you guys some time).

So I’ve been practicing my rhyming. This is kind of clunky but good enough to post, at least.

 


 

 

Sweet violet, known for shrinking mein,

Please do not fear, for I am plain

A traveler who on passing through

Was stricken by your vibrant hue.

 

Dear violet, turning with the wind,

I beg you not my pleas rescind

I only wish you would bestow

Upon my eyes your purest glow.

 

You blush! Sweet, I will not attack

Your modest beauty sacrosanct.

I find it charming you should be

The height of quiet propriety.

 

A little favor now, for me

Although I act familiarly

Allow me kneel and your stem bent

The better to partake your scent.

 

O violet dear, I wish to see

You closer, you wouldst not fight me

My fingers pull your waist lightly

Alack! My touch has plucked you free.

 

She was too delicate! Oh well.

Another one for my lapel.

 

 


 

You know how the old poets always had beautiful, introspective conversations with flowers and things like that. So I tried it myself. Turns out, after all my best and noblest efforts, I’m just a rapist, lol.