Friday, June 5, 2015

Poems about Waltzes: Playlist for June 5, 2015


The Waltz We Were Born For

Walt McDonald, 1934

I never knew them all, just hummed

and thrummed my fingers with the radio,

driving five hundred miles to Austin.

Her arms held all the songs I needed.

Our boots kept time with fiddles

and the charming sobs of blondes,

the whine of steel guitars

sliding us down in deer-hide chairs

when jukebox music was over.

Sad music’s on my mind tonight

in a jet high over Dallas, earphones

on channel five. A lonely singer,

dead, comes back to beg me,

swearing in my ears she’s mine,

rhymes set to music that make

her lies seem true. She’s gone

and others like her, leaving their songs

to haunt us. Letting down through clouds

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Cry, My Steel Guitar, sung by Tammy Wynette

Waltz Of The Lovers Joined Forever - Poem by Miguel Hernandez

They never departed
the garden of embraces.
And round the red rose
of kisses they travelled.
Hurricanes wanted
to part them with rancour.
And sharp axes,
and bony lightning.
They added to a land
of pallid hands.
They measured cliffs
impelled by the wind
between molten mouths.
They delved through shipwrecks
their arms each time
deeper in their bodies.
Persecuted, drowned,
by a great helplessness
of memories and moons,
of November and March,
they saw themselves blown
like inconstant dust:
they saw themselves blown,
but always embracing.

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Slow Waltz, by Clarice Assad

Sleep Waltz
by Terence Winch

Get old enough so you won't have much to fear.
By then, the music plays inside your head
and everything beautiful must be learned by ear.

In the bathroom mirror I behold my wear and tear.
In our bedroom I try to levitate in bed.
Get old enough so you won't have much to fear.

Meanwhile, my son at six wants to keep me near
and we sing together every night head to head.
So everything beautiful must be learned by ear.

His father's tunes, though, will one day disappear
beyond today's routines and daily bread.
But get old enough so you won't have much to fear.

Remembering my mother was my first career
and the songs surrounding her on which I fed,
knowing everything beautiful must be learned by ear.

We may waltz in the kitchen now, my dear,
or dance out of time in our sleep instead.
Get old enough so you have nothing left to fear.
Everything beautiful must be learned by ear.

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Irish Waltz, by Edwina Hayes
by Paul Laurence Dunbar

When to sweet music my lady is dancing
My heart to mild frenzy her beauty inspires.
Into my face are her brown eyes a-glancing,
And swift my whole frame thrills with tremulous fires.
Dance, lady, dance, for the moments are fleeting,
Pause not to place yon refractory curl;
Life is for love and the night is for sweeting;
Dreamily, joyously, circle and whirl.

Oh, how those viols are throbbing and pleading;
A prayer is scarce needed in sound of their strain.
Surely and lightly as round you are speeding,
You turn to confusion my heart and my brain.
Dance, lady, dance to the viol's soft calling,
Skip it and trip it as light as the air;
Dance, for the moments like rose leaves are falling,
Strikes, now, the clock from its place on the stair.

Now sinks the melody lower and lower,
The weary musicians scarce seeming to play.
Ah, love, your steps now are slower and slower,
The smile on your face is more sad and less gay.
Dance, lady, dance to the brink of our parting,
My heart and your step must not fail to be light.
Dance! Just a turn--tho' the tear-drop be starting.
Ah--now it is done--so--my lady, good-night!

REFLECTIVE MUSIC: Valses nobles et sentimentales by Maurice Ravel

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