Les Deux Magots: ‘Pondering music, wine and poetry’
Writers gathered at the Les Deux Magots, AKA Hill Family tasting room, for our monthly poetry sharing on Feb. 11. We shared verses about music, wine and poetry.
“If I feel physically as if the top of my head were taken off, I know that is poetry,” Emily Dickenson wrote.
Charles Darwin wrote, “If I had my life to live over again, I would have made a rule to read some poetry and listen to some music at least once every week.”
I was nudged everyone to fashion a poem inspired by the song “Moon River” by Henry Mancini:
Wherever you’re going we’re all going your way
Some radiate out
like spokes of a wheel
Some walk alone
their luster conceal
Some cluster close
protect their young
Some howl
ablaze wildly
old fairytales unfolding
Goethe wrote, “One ought, every day at least, to hear a little song, read a good poem, see a fine picture.“
Michael Waterson and Alan Arnopole both wrote poems and sang them for the enraptured poets. Michael sang of St. Patrick:
Roman a roamin’
St. Patrick went a roamin’
Over hill and over fen
Through the thicket and through the glen
To convert the wild heathen
St. Patrick went a Roman but returned as an Irishman
Alan Arnopole so appropriately sang a wine song at the Hill Tasting Room. Here is a sip of his poem titled Harvest:
Soon the wine will meet the cask
Were it will mature and bask
Absorbing flavors from the oak
That rounds the wine as it soaks
Virginia Wolfe wrote, “Language is wine upon my lips.”
Valli Ferrel fashioned a poem titled Wine Beau. Valli talks to her wine friend:
Land me laughing
your gilded kisses
Sparkling of salt and sea
Mouth plump as apricot
legs so shapely
I willingly drown
“A bird does not sing because he has an answer. He sings because he has a song,” is a quote from Maya Angelou.
John Petraglia invited us to hear the song of birds:
Although the continuous cloud
Of high-pitched trilly calls
as they descend
On the berry-laden mulberry tree
Fills the moment with joyful din
Patricia Reis fashioned a poem about the rhythmic journey of walking with her grandson. And the beat goes on:
His stories hold me in admiration
Of his courage to be his own drummer
And walker to his own beat
“Listening to music is often described as a bridge between the physical and spiritual worlds, offering a way to express what words cannot.” Anonymous.
Spencer Johnson left us with a melody that transported us to another dimension. He strummed the guitar and whistled an original tune. We listened with smiles, many with eyes closed.
I leave you with a quote as I continue to relish Spencer’s whistling:
“It is impossible to be miserable and depressed, whilst whistling.” Anonymous.
Send your thoughts and poems to me, Marianne at [email protected].
Send your thoughts to Marianne Lyon at [email protected]
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