from fatuous - Tuesday, May 08, 2007
accessed 679 times I liked this piece of music and so jotted down what I felt about it. Dawn
Harsh, keening brass notes din,
Exciting waves, cold and grey.
As arpeggios of flute and violin,
Glimmer like sun-dappled spray.
Sunday Morning
A broad ternary melody conforms,
To give, a monotonous Sunday feeling.
While overlapping calling of horns,
Conjures images of church-bells pealing.
The music blurs as there appears,
A deep and resonant tolling.
The melody crumbles before my ears,
Undermined by it controlling.
Moonlight
The xylophone and trumpet brings,
Out intensified, luminous splashes.
As woodwind and pizzicato strings,
Spark moonlit, silver, flashes.
A dull, throbbing chorale distends,
Rising in small surges.
As hesitant moonlit sea-swell portends,
Undertoned fearful urges.
Storm:
Trumpeting brass, sea lashed gale,
Violent waters! Waves crash and roll!
Yet a haunting tune in the upper scale…
Shows naive goodness in Peter’s soul!
The clouds are parted with hopes last ray,
And sun and storm compete.
But the tortured tempest within, holds sway,
So Peter Grimes drowns in defeat. |
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