"Pythagoreans Celebrate Sunrise" by Fyodor Bronnikov‘Orchestra Tuning Up’ and Other Poetry by Cynthia Erlandson The Society January 16, 2021 Beauty, Culture, Music, Poetry 6 Comments _ Orchestra Tuning Up Is this the way the universe once sounded?A mass confusion of discordant trumpets,Flutes, horns, and violins like baffled cometsWithout a geometric course, confounded? Can this be how the universe was founded?An orchestra of galaxies in commotion,Celestial bodies bent upon collision,Spinning around infinity, surrounded By instrumental and galactic clamor—Drums, cymbals, bursting stars and unformed planets,Crashing asteroids and untuned clarinets?Outside the pit, eternity’s conductor, Unseen, hears all the discord in the cosmosOf music; steps out from its restless shadows,Aligns and orchestrates its muddled matter,Arranging measured sounds in perfect order And, lifting his baton, already hearsThe music of Pythagorean spheres. X X Mass in B Minor: Sepultus Est …. Et Resurrexit! “The words at the cadence are ‘sepultus est’ [‘was buried’]. … followed by a moment of pregnant silence before the outburst of joy of ‘Et resurrexit.’ ” —Calvin R. Stapert, My Only Comfort: Death, Deliverance, and Discipleship in the Music of Bach Three days are present in that pregnant pauseBetween “sepultus est” and what comes next. ItHangs there soundless over all that was,Waiting. Music, with perfect instinct, checks it-Self, and hovers, fully animate,Inexorably observing its own laws,Then bursts in perfect time with “Resurrexit!” X X Cynthia Erlandson is a poet and fitness professional living in Royal Oak, Michigan. She has had poems published in First Things, Modern Age, Measure Journal, Anglican Theological Review, The North American Anglican, Forward in Christ, and the Anthologies The Slumbering Host (ed. Clinton Collister), and A Widening Light, (ed. Luci Shaw) NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to firstname.lastname@example.org. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 6 Responses Julian D. Woodruff January 16, 2021 “Crashing asteroids and untuned clarinets [?]”–the line of the century in my book. I hope there will be a novel, TV series, or movie with that title. It should swim in the minds of countless conductors. The “it” line endings in the “Et sepultus” suggest the occasional tinkering with phrase endings that are characteristic of Haydn and Mozart, not so much of Bach and his contemporaries. In the poem, though, they do create a very satisfying rhyme. Reply Paul Freeman January 16, 2021 The fusion to create an orchestral universe is wonderful, Cynthia. I often go to the poetry of the firmament when I need to escape the earthbound stresses and strains. Reply James A. Tweedie January 17, 2021 A well-known Christian speaker likes to say that the Christian’s approach to life ought to be, “It’s Friday, but Sunday’s coming!” So it is with that magnificent “animate” silence prior to the burst of brass and triumph in Bach’s Resurrexit. So worthy of a poet’s praise! Well done, Cynthia. Your tuneful images will be echoing in my head for the rest of the day . . . which, appropriately enough, is Sunday, the first day of the week, the “third day.” As I watch the dawn creep into the sky where I now sit on the edge of the Pacific Ocean, I am surrounded by silence . . . but not for long! Reply Daniel Kemper January 17, 2021 I very much like what you did with the enjambment between lines 2 and three and lines 3 and four. That was just perfect. One made me hang there while the verse told me about hanging and the other made me wait while it told me about waiting. That’s a terrific effect! Reply Julian D. Woodruff January 18, 2021 I view your comment as something of a rebuttal to mine, Mr. Kemper, and I appreciate it. I am reminded of the advice of Prof. Salemi and others to focus on the poem and not let the particulars of the subject become a distraction. Reply Monty January 19, 2021 What a splendid idea for a poem, Cynthia; and what an imaginative metaphor to carry the whole thing through. It’s really refreshing to see something so completely different. Bravo. Reply Leave a Reply to James A. Tweedie Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.