Intervals In Time
by
Richard Reed Jr
copyright 07-23-2006
Age Rating: 10 to 127
If soft refrains from Heaven, fall softly
To your ear, endlessly without a pause, quite soon
You will not hear, even that which dearly
Strikes your fancy so, and quite well
Stirs your heart aglow
Then will you ask, where did
The beauty go?
If music sounds no rest notes, to sit
your ear awhile, It surely will be tedious
And will no more beguile
The play needs intermissions
The music so rest strokes, thus we sit and wonder
what fires the next act stokes, The pause does hold you to your chair and the joy within evokes
Who calls himself a maestro
Must give heed to this, else lose his audience
With harmony amiss, no matter how the crowd complain
The curtain must come down, so indeed it can come up
For the newer play in town, thus jeer him not good gentle folk though he dresses in Geneva gown
You've seen these common plays so many times
Why not go off Broadway? Explore the unknown play
No need to turn away, will you not give way your ticket though the play does not enthrall?
The leaves turn red and golden rejoicing in their fall, and winter's sleep which makes us weep
Is most refreshing of them all
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I love to read your poetry aloud. I get a better feel for the rhythm and mood this way, and the meaning can sink in better. This one was a perfect example. I love the comparisons of life, seasons, music, and a play. This is truly a work of art! Bravo!
Spoken in the difficulty and beauty of Shakespearian prose: For everything there is a season.
And yes, we often don't know what we've got til it's gone!
We take it all for granted. Our ears are deaf, our eyes no longer see.
Once I got the rhythm, it went more smoothly. In the end, I felt that I had lost the rhythm again.
Beautiful words, some interesting changes in tempo, some difficult lines, and the truth in every word spoken. Worth revisiting... I'll be back. Debbie
There are some lines in this that are difficult to absorb and understand, but the gist for me is there, and the poem is an extended metaphor for the kind of silent time one needs to appreciate between the periods of excitement and stimulation in our lives-- that the peaks cannot exist without the valleys-- that they are inseparable and seamless-- that there is a still point in the center of the dance.
Liked the analogy of winter being a "rest note" in the song of life. Sometimes we play too many notes without taking a break. You need a dramatic pause or change to make a work complete. When the winter is over... the song can start again. Very true.
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