"Strings Strings and trumpets And trumpets And trumpets Strings Strings and trumpets And trumpets And trumpets Strings And trumpets And trumpets And trum!"
Sing, you choir, loud and clear! Let your voice be heard Let it pierce the air Pierce it once, pierce it twice Angelic hosts Angelic hosts Angelic hosts Pierce it thrice!
Move decisively Move decisively Move decisively Left and right Dance the dance Day and night From the slayer Lightning flashes! From his eye From the slayer Flash! Move decisively Move decisively Move decisively Left and right Dance the dance Day and night
From his eye Lightning flashes! A time of war A time of clashes!
The command has come Slay! Slay! Slay! Slay! You cannot escape On that dreaded Day
This high music is for you! Cue higher music, cue Let it ring Clear and clarion! It is for you and you It is for you It is your companion
Move, death angel To and fro Let all the people know Yesterday, tomorrow, today That you, Lord God Have come to
"As the butler turned to go after leaving the pressed morning edition on the platter beside the bureau I asked him to prepare afternoon tea
'Certainly,' he replies 'But the clock hasn't struck 11, sir'
'It's Midsummer’s day and Madam and I,' I explain 'will be having afternoon tea at the coastal house'
-
After an hour everything is ready and we begin to make our way
As we leave the grounds I hear the characteristic buzz and snap of the motorised electric gate behind us
I look in the rear-view mirror and see the butler’s Bentley I also see the housekeeper on the doorstep waving us farewell with a handkerchief
As we turn onto the main side road I ask Madam who is checking her make-up on the back seat of our Bentley to check with the butler via the two-way communication system if he had remembered the vinyl records
He replies, 'Yes Madam'
Summer Wind
"...As the time reaches two and twenty past both Bentleys arrive at the coastal house
The standard is raised and the butler unpacks both cars ...including the music
'It's a beautiful day, darling let's have tea at the water’s edge' Madam says
'How romantic' I say
So, after removing our footwear we carry two chairs and a table down the beach
After setting up next to some rocks the butler serves us then retires to a distance
I raise my voice and say to the butler 'Can you bring the record player from the house and play some music?'
'Yes sir'
He fetches the player and puts a record on the turntable Quite calmly he presses... play
The music begins to play
The raised standard once still begins flapping softly on the mast
Madam stands up and starts tiptoeing backwards just as she learned in dance classes at finishing school
I stand up turn to her and start stepping backwards slowly in true dramatic style
Madam changes direction and starts tiptoeing towards me
As the music changes she breaks into a run
And with a leap she jumps into my arms
I catch her We embrace sweetly in circular movements Round and round and round
By now the music has become expressive Expressive, pulsating and undulating
Although it is Midsummer’s Day the clouds are gathering and the wind is picking up
There are now white pony surfs but soon they will be white horses
And what of the tide? Yes, it's advancing and quicker, too as if the moon’s orbit was being quickened by the accelerating music
Then there is a seventh wave in time with the orchestra’s down bow and the table and chairs topple over
But we keep with our ever expressive dance
As the milk and profiteroles fall to the ground there is a greater smash of waves onto the coastal rocks just as the music reaches a tutti
The water is now rushing our shins and the wind whistles wildly...
We part briefly And, just like ballerinas raise both arms to form an arch and pirouette
The music is now at its height
We both grasp each other's left forearm with our own left hand Right arms still arched in the air
We then look straight and deep into one another's eyes and begin an ever-increasing spin
As we spin faster and faster and look deeper and deeper into each other’s eyes we are unaware of the tornado we have created Or, rather, not us but the music
We are focused 100% on each other We are the centre of the whirlwind Everything else is a blur
"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
To accompany the above Cupid fly-past, imagine music from, say, a Jane Austen adaptation. The audiobook version of this poem is quite agreeable, and includes a soundtrack arrangement from the Hollywood production of Pride and Prejudice starring Matthew McFadyen and Keira Knightley. All my poetic writings are finalised with a Parker fountain pen!The next poem is simply titled ‘Love’. On the surface it appears innocuous. Maybe in the manner of Stendhal’s celebrated book with the same title? My essay, however, is a skydive — treating this atomic, incendiary device fantastically. When recording the audio my voice sounded, at times, like a madman. Love had its birth long before primordial waters existed above the stars. And so, you will be forgiven if you feel drunk after this poem. If you do, then you have the genes of a superhero.
King Solomon wrote the Song of Songs in the Bible, Old Testament, dedicating it to his favourite wife: The Shulamite. For this special day, I have selected a particular search engine result about her: “she is a dark, sensual woman”. This understanding, I put to you, was probably arrived at by way of interpreting Solomon’s life. Song of Songs mentions kissing, garden and fragrance. My thunder is singing and a never-ending dance. The players in this, my composition, are: soprano, tenor, violin and piano.Several years ago on a wet St Valentine’s Day I was listening to BBC Radio 3, a Thursday. They played a delightful version of ‘Scarborough Fair’. Thirty-six hours later I completed recomposing the music for solo piano. My reading includes a three note accompaniment in one hand and suspended notes in the melody. ‘Scarborough Fair’ is a traditional English folk song from the Middle Ages. The ballad is all about asking a former lover to perform impossible tasks in order to win back his love. For this video, my formal dinner shirt represents a cambric shirt.
P.S. I know a man called Eros who thinks about blowing kisses… all day long!P.P.S. If you know of anyone who will be alone this Valentine’s Day, please share thoughtfully.