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June 2
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one of my earliest memories -
my mother, steadfast mentality
slowly driving her forward, repeating
repeating re-pea-ting bar by bar
nocturne number eight in d flat major;
never anything less than perfection,
even when fingertips wear thin,
when patience wears thinner,
and chopin fades into dust
      i am a child born of icy constellations,
      cigarette smoke, and canorous chords,
      composers whispering at the edge of my senses
black-garbed, it's grandmother's funeral -
my violin cries massenet's méditation.
my thirteen year-old heart has never
felt so incapable of expression,
so goddamn inadequate, and d major
has never sounded so heartbroken.
we return to a phone call from father,
his composure cracking as he tells us
we'll be doing this all over again;
96 hours, two grandmothers gone,
now all i have is massenet and
it isn't fair
      we'd never know it by looking at the sky,
      but countless stars waxed requiem to
      create us; cenotaphs in the empyrean black
sixteen years old and i can breathe -
the storm is finally beginning
to subside. tchaikovsky and i seek
shelter in abandoned music rooms,
matching the rain drop for drop
in b minor pathétique. the piano
has long since fallen out of tune,
but it blends with a strangely
enchanting cacophony. tchaikovsky
holds me for hours, day in, day out
week upon oh-so weary week,
all alone amidst water and wippen;
when i emerge, i am brittle,
but whole
      we are the discovery of star-filled oceans,
      worlds of mellifluous maliferous miracles
      we're only synapse-sparked souls in the end
shaking and insecure, but resolved -
i exhale, inhale, begin. c minor has
become the harmony at the core of me,
duruflé haunts the empty hallways.
hopeful hours spent repeating
repeating re-pea-ting bar by bar
until even mother can be proud;
never anything less than perfection.
i sing, and oh, i never believed in
synergism; but here, singing to heaven
in a city that's shattered, but ours -
for just a moment, though my skin
is immersed in sin, my song can
still be beautiful.
the events mentioned in this work, though only briefly mentioned, are true; as are the pieces of music mentioned, along with their significance.

- Chopin's Nocturne in D flat major
- Massenet's "Méditation", from Thaïs
- Tchaikovsky's Symphony No. 6 in B minor, Op. 74, Pathétique
- Duruflé's "Pie Jesu", from Requiem, op. 9

third of june, 2014
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Daily Deviation

Given 2014-06-14
symphony stellata by Lissomer "The emotion, imagery, and uniqueness of the piece just pulls you in as a reader and you can't help but feel those emotions." (Suggesters Words) ( Suggested by chromeantennae and Featured by IrrevocableFate )

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:iconrussellcattle:
russellcattle Featured By Owner Edited Oct 5, 2014

Mortal humans, you cannot do better than to have C Minor in your core being!
 

It is the key of Beethoven's Fifth Symphony.
  

It has been said that "It is better to light a single candle than to curse the darkness".  But one can light a fire, AND curse the darkness too, with a shout of defiance at the top of one's lungs.  We answer the knock of Fate at the Door by leaning out the window and shaking our fists against the Sky!
   

That's what Beethoven did.  And he has his disciples still!

 

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:iconlissomer:
Lissomer Featured By Owner Oct 6, 2014   Writer
Thank you for saying that. I like it a lot :D
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:iconslenderblade:
slenderblade Featured By Owner Edited Oct 3, 2014
Would you believe me if I told you I listened to each of these songs in their entirety? And, did I wait until each one was done before I moved to the next world of your life? And I fell into turmoil with the unique meaning you stitched into each motion?
You would be right to believe me.

I can imagine you listening to Tchaikovsky again, and again, and again, and ... and again, and for forever, until you became the music. I am filled with despair and hope and mercy and relentless censure. 


I want to hear your voice.
Bring this haunting calm to me like a torrent of breath and suffocation
This plea for you, this plea for humanity -- 

A very serious mortification drains my blisters of fluid, and the scars you leave on my ankles and neck reflect sunlight and moonlight and starlight and ...

without warning, you slump into my heart like a weight of a thousand bleeding... a million..a trillion... bleeding... an insurmountable number of wasting, mourning, seething, steaming, wailing, lamenting souls and minds and breaths and shudders and claws and bindings and tears and 

Grace is your veil
like lips bitten until blood pools under the tongue, the sheets are red and the lace is blue and the velvet green shimmers and pours and envelopes . . . . 

You can hurt me.
You hold that patience. 

This is yours. It belongs to you. I have not felt the tensile resistance of stitched burlap ever as a personal feeling until now.
No strength has torn such a binding fabric as now.
Not for me, anyway.

So let me hold your hand. Let me sit, pressing the back of your hand on my forehead, for the hope that

In a moment, we would fly into a world of salvation
finally free of this travesty and bitterness and sugary facetious simpering wilting meandering journey towards death ...

---
Your vocabulary blesses me with exposure.

You chose Symphony Stellata as your title. 
Magnolia Stellata 
Quercus Stellata
Senecio Stellata
Cineraria
noli manere 
fortune with flowing eyes

---

You hold the universe in your eyes.
I have never looked at you.

---

Where does this leave us?


I cannot fathom the world and its comparison to the universe:
We think we are so far apart, but...

Just think if we were separated from each other by constellations! By galaxies! By entire multishelliquazons!

Yet our hearts BREATHE each other's malediction
like souls lost in a fire of sheltered innocence

---

Why do I imagine you as a caretaker?
You have the patience, I think.

---

There is no celebration here. 

---





Thank you for being Sophia Kimberly: Wise one, placed in the land of my mother's birth, Kimberly South Africa.
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:iconlissomer:
Lissomer Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014   Writer
I don't know how to respond to this, 
I really don't. 

You are a beautiful, beautiful soul.
I know this. 

Perhaps one day I will be capable of responding to your words.
Not today.
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:iconslenderblade:
slenderblade Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2014
*nod*
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:iconandanteecho:
AndanteEcho Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2014  Student Writer
This is so beautiful oh my goodness yes aaaahhh this may have just made my day. Excellent work, I envy both your knowledge of music and your use of vocabulary. And everything about this poem, really. It really made me want to cry and then smile, then practice my violin and go stargazing. And write more poetry, of course. In my opinion, perfect. 
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:iconlissomer:
Lissomer Featured By Owner Sep 9, 2014   Writer
Wow I'm so glad you like it, dear! :heart:

Thank you so so much.
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:iconi-do-enjoy-music:
i-do-enjoy-music Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
You picked some fantastic music to reference here! Music is universal and often eternal and I think you captured that really really really well!!
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:iconlissomer:
Lissomer Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014   Writer
Thank you so very much for the lovely words :heart:
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:iconi-do-enjoy-music:
i-do-enjoy-music Featured By Owner Sep 6, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Haha no silly, thank you for the lovely words!
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