Sunday, June 25, 2006

Music of the World Turning

Today's prompt for Sunday Scribblings: music
I find this a difficult one because there is so much that could be said about it. I think of my mother playing the organ in church and practising her singing lessons. I think of piano lessons from the ages of 6 to 18, and clarinet lessons later as an adult. I think of all the music lessons I sat through with my children - violin, cello, recorder, trumpet, clarinet, singing. I think of my first date with my husband - a Gilbert and Sullivan operetta. I think of what our children call "car music" - the songs we listen to on holiday - the Seekers, Peter Paul and Mary, the Carpenters, Glen Campbell, and others of the same era. Songs we know so well that we can all sing along.

Music is everywhere. Music is on the front page of Saturday's newspaper with an article on the music that surgeons play in the operating theatre. (Do they ask the patients? I wonder. It has been proven that patients can hear when they are supposedly unconscious. If the surgeon likes heavy metal, and the patient doesn't, does it affect the outcome?)

But I have a long "to do" list today. I am going to sneak out of exploring any of these topics and post a poem I wrote some time ago. A poem that arose from my summer evening walks around the neighbourhood - just before Christmas. I am going to put a CD on, sit in the patch of sun that is coming through the window and taking the edge off the winter chill. I am going to take up my pile of mending while listening to Paul Simon and KT Tunstall. In the meantime, I hope you enjoy the poem

A Little Night Music

1. Alla marcia

The day’s heat lingers
Through open windows, light spills
into the park. A radio plays jazz.
Somewhere a dog barks,
while the saints go marching
out into the night

2. Allegretto giocoso

School’s out. No homework,
nothing more important to do
than flock on the riverbank
and poke sticks into the water.
“Merry Christmas, Christina’s mum!” they call,
“Merry Christmas” to each other,
to the eels in the shadows,
and “Merry Christmas” to the moon.

3. Allegro appassionata

A lone cicada is playing a cadenza
accompanied by rustling leaves
and hedgehog squeals in the flower bed.
In nearby houses, footsteps in hallways
and the sound of closing doors.

9 comments:

Tracie said...

I have never thought about if the surgeon's choice of music had an effect on the patient...interesting.

Here from Michele!

chiefbiscuit said...

LOVE the poem! Hope you've had a great day.

OldOldLady Of The Hills said...

That is a wonderful poem...Music plays such an important part of my life...In so very many was, it saved my life...
Thanks for your visit and your lovely comment, too!

keda said...

what a lovely poem! and beautiful to think about the different season in which you experience christmas!
thank you.
here via michele.

paris parfait said...

Wonderful poems - I remember the music of the cicadas at night. One of my parent's friends used to tease me goodnaturedly about living in cities - he'd ask, "Don't you miss the cicadas?"

As for music in the operating theatres, as long as the surgeon can concentrate on the task at hand, I don't care about the music!

Mardougrrl said...

Hmmm...I think I would hope the music would relax the surgeons enough!

The poem was so soft, windchime-y. Beautiful.

Dawn Falcone said...

Beautiful poem. Music is a very important part of my life , too.
Here via Michelle.

Patry Francis said...

This is delightful.

Tongue in Cheek Antiques said...

Music does have an effect on us, the power of the sound upon our heart, soul and mind...like words we should be mindful of the power we have in using them.

Wonderful post on music you have shared with us!