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Notes of Life
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1  Poetry - Various Genres / Tributes / Wolf Song on: March 19, 2011, 01:17:54 pm
Protecting two babies as though they were hers,
A she-wolf is suckling twin boys.
How strange that she'd nurture what any wolf rather would eat,
But these human orphans sing music that stirs
In her never-felt-before joys.
Now Romulus hums grandiose melodies at her teat:
They sound like the start of a great symphony,
A structure like eternal Rome;
While Remus, though lacking his brother's so powerful voice,
Still charms his step-mother, has her sympathy,
And with her has always a home.
Not forced to protect these musicians, she does so by choice.
Her sensitive ears cherish every sweet tune.
She cries her approval--a song
Antiphonal to theirs, complementary, a compliment.
The sun, setting, will be usurped by the moon.
The wolf knows that it won't be long
Before night makes the sun's orange purple, then black. There'll be sent
Packs of ravenous animals that would devour
Her beloved babes, and their notes.
Those beasts wish to silence her sons: they'd have their howls the lords
Of the night, for those brutes would change sweet into sour.
She won't let them, for she ever dotes
On her boys; so together, the three of them sing, and their chords
Will drown out the growls of those envious brutes.
These babies love their foster mother,
And they will remember that she-wolf's attentive, big ears.
Without her, those babes would be forgotten mutes.
Her song is akin to no other,
For no mother loves as she's loved them, or hears as she hears. 
2  Poetry - Various Genres / Tributes / Re: Dawn on: March 19, 2011, 01:08:39 pm
Thanks, Marie.  This poem is a tribute to a woman named Dawn, who often listened to music published on a website called Jamendo.  She would write up enthusiastic reviews of much of the music, but recently she had to leave the community, because too much time on the internet meant she wasn't giving enough time to her family and friends.  We musicians all hope she'll return one day. 
3  Poetry - Various Genres / Tributes / Dawn on: March 02, 2011, 09:48:40 am
Earth slowly turns her head to greet the sun,
And all the birds begin to sing
While Dawn's enormous ears do welcome their sweet notes.
Saying, "Music to my ears is here!  No one
Can sculpt of sound a lovely thing
As all your warbling," Dawn's a listener who dotes
On rhythm, melody, and harmony.
The lyricism of the lark
Is rarely heard beyond the the small, secluded garden
That is its home, but Dawn's ears' charity
Even the softest song will mark,
Give praise to its beauty, and its imperfections pardon--
The only sounds she never seems to hear.
A true dawn, turning dark to light,
She makes the timid wren's hidden tune manifest.
But as the dawn becomes the day, her ear
Must leave to bring an end to night
In other places.  As the sun sets in the west,
And we poor songbirds, lacking our good friend,
Coo our dejection in the dark,
We dream of Dawn all through night's slowly dragging hours.
We wait for her return, to bring an end
To our black here, and then the lark
Will chirrup joyfully from all the groves and bowers.   
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