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To an Old Piano on the Roadside
They were going to throw me away, Out with the rubbish bin. I, who you used to play, When you were small children. . Did it not mean much to you? The scales we learned together? Maybe if I were shiny, new, I’d be kept out of the weather. . But moving on is hard;…
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Eating Disorder, Reordered
In many previous blog posts, I have alluded to it. I have used it as an example of the dangers of perfectionism, as evidence of my own prideful nature, and as a point of reference to show how I’ve grown. The “monster,” as my journal refers to it. The eating disorder. It’s something I can…
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Preeminent Performance
In my “Redeeming Culture through Music” class, we were asked the following question: “Which is most important in music: the composer, the performer, or the listener?” The class more or less unanimously expressed that the three persons are equally important. After all, if there is no composer, there is nothing to perform and if there…
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Three Principles
As I was practicing piano the other day, I wrote a series of three questions to ask myself as I worked on each detail: Is it clean? Is it beautiful? Does it mean something? First, I work technically, listening even to exercises to discern if they are played with clarity and precision. Are they clean?…
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To Travel: A Sonnet
I was a stranger here yet better known Away from all I thought myself to be— Away from all routines that made me, me, I found myself in being severed grown. Away from all the people I loved best I found myself in newer company— I found my soul in this older country Away from…
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On Departing
My feet pounding the pavement to the beat Of poetry that laid the cobbled street, I feel a shaking sense of bittersweet For a face I only once did meet And wind that sings its fingers through my hair Will not again its subtle secrets share, Nor will the trees and flowers for me bear…
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After a Discussion of Tennyson’s “In Memoriam” – a poetic reflection
A stillness falls and dimly-lit, A bell tolls distantly, As in this life we numbly sit For what we cannot see. The words of grief we hear afresh, A melody its gloss, As we seek out our souls ‘neath flesh Remembered in deep loss. This room is filled with love-lost ghosts Of our most private…
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A Poem Passed-By
That moment gone was but a spot of time Yet still I yearn towards its eternity, To find it past yet feel it presently For such moments are best realized in rhyme. But somehow this one fails to really be As full in feeling as it was before; In that one moment, not a second…
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A Poem to the Church of St. Edward King and Martyr
The words that lie written beneath our feet, Titles of saints, these graves in graven stones, The echoes of reformers’ gracious tones Which once and still all sinners here would meet. And still these words evoke fascination Of both pilgrim and poet’s seeking hearts, Quickening with the spirit each their arts, Knowledge grown into Imagination.…
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Little Elegy
Walking through Cambridge, inspiration is difficult to avoid. My apologies to those on the sidewalk who had to go around me as I stopped to give this poor bird a proper elegy. “His eye is on the sparrow,” so ’tis sung But ‘neath some foot or wheel its feathers flung- Poor claws curled up in…
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Method…Writing?
Method acting is a key point in my novel. One of the characters is an actor who has become “stuck” in the role that he last performed. He has lost himself into the character he was contracted to play. There are obviously a MANY problems that arise from this (many dark moments for this poor…
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Pride and Conviction
Well, it’s that time of year again… We find ourselves nearly in the middle of June and, as such, thoroughly entrenched in National Dairy Month, Adopt-a-Cat Month, Safety Awareness Month, and Accordion Awareness Month. We also are (supposedly) to rally together in June to promote camping, candy, roses, and vegetables (https://nationaldaycalendar.com/june-monthly-observations/). However, while I bet…
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Ryanne Molinari 