concert – Splashes of Ink

by Michael Bobb

"A few moments ago we left the hall
Where we had enjoyed the concert
It was a lunchtime concert
And finished about 2:30 pm

On the programme were waltzes
Polkas and arrangements of minuets
While we were there our toes tapped
And our heads swayed a bit, too

Now that the concert was over
We strolled back to the car
And decided to walk through
The ornamented landscape garden

Mid-summer’s day was last week
Melodies of high bird song was heard
And the Bistro beckoned us
‘Come and sample some delights’

So we took our seats near the maze
Decided iced tea and gateau
And after placing our order
We just sat for a second or two

As we sat under the parasol
We then talked about the concert
How spring-like and gai
The quartet had sounded and played

As our tea and cake arrived
There were a few light drops
Beginning to fall on the parasol
Just a little passing shower?

Thud... thud... thud...
Then the intervals grew shorter
Thud… thud… thud… thud… thud
And the birds in the trees gradually silenced
As the sound of the rain grew

The fine light rain was first quiet
Starting as a hushed pianissimo
But the composer had written a crescendo

This wet summer chorus
Was like the increasing sound
Of a sizzling frying pan

'Can you hear it', I said
'Nature is playing a waltz'

I stood up
Stepped out from under the parasol
And offered my right hand
And you accepted my invitation

We adopted the position:
Hand in hand
Hand on back
Hand on shoulder
An indivisible one

We started slow and in time
Thud, 2, 3..thud, 2, 3.. thud, 2,3
But the tempo was increasing
Ziz-zl-ing, ziz-zl-ing, ziz-zl-ing

We had to keep in step
From adagio…
To andante…
To maestoso…

Our gestures becoming more defined
From pianissimo…
To mezzo piano…
To forte…

Round and round the music took us
Our expressions wider and wider
Our heart beats were synchronised
All in perfect decorum

We were caught up in the music
It swept us off our feet
I swirled you round and round
First left to right, then right to left

On the outside was a summer shower
On the inside the tempest was free
Lightning bolts electrifying our souls
Waves crashing on the beach

By now heels and tuxedo were saturated
But we could not stop
We could not stop the dancing
Until the very last drop

-

When the clouds broke
And the sun came out again
We heard the birds singing

And we smiled"

Audio

Summer Rain

Read and played by Michael Bobb

Music: Prelude in D Flat, Op. 28 No. 15, ‘Raindrop’ by Frdédéric Chopin

“The Known Great Composer”

A few years ago I was online scanning the concert listings at a world-class venue in London. On this particular occasion I was looking for small scale music-making. The Baroque era is a favourite of mine, and I chose a recorder and theorbo programme.

On the day of the concert I was early, and so decided to spend some time in a book shop. Afterwards, I went to the concert hall and started my packed lunch. Before I could finish it was time for the concert to begin.

During the concert sometimes the instruments played together, sometimes they played solo. For one recorder solo, the recordist played two recorders simultaneously! When the theorboist played solo pieces, one of them was introduced as a passacaglia – which, to my amusement, collected philistinic giggles. If only the pictures of musical aristocracy on the walls of the concert room had ears of flesh!

This poem, The Known Great Composer, is about the concert. Head and shoulders above, one composer and his music made my whole time in London memorable. Memorable for the right reason – music.

No prizes, but if you can guess the Great Composer I don’t mention, you are a winner! Clue: Imagine the accompanying music in this clip being played two octaves lower on a solo cello…

First verse

“The Known Great Composer”

“The window blinds close

The stage lights are adjusted

Two musicians walk on stage

And we welcome them warmly…”

On the way home, I happened to see someone I knew. We talked for a while, and I expressed that I would be writing a poem about the concert. By this time, my mind had already begun putting the poem together.

Furthermore, before arriving home, I visited a local art gallery and talked more about poetry to the exhibiting Artist, referencing the couple of books I bought earlier that day written by the Poet Laureate.