The beauty of Beethoven's Symphony number 8 has driven me to poetry once more, based on words I wrote during the wonderful performance by the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra under the baton (literally) of Rafael Frühbeck de Burgos. I heard marvelous synchronicity and superlative metronomic fluidity. The maestro was wonderful with his marvelous conducting, the left hand was expressive and the right hand led with the baton, and there were plenty of smiles in the orchestra to go around...
Metronomic candor - Beethoven Symphony No. 8
Gorgeous serendipity, landed squarely on my nose
No lack of hesitation, dare rob me of my prose
Speaking speech in volume, pitched above three rows
Luck she barely knew me, and nimble on her toes
Born with trepidation, and furrows on her brow
A subtle time and mellow rhyme, and now's when I avow
Overture preamble, pioneering lead somehow
Further salutation, hello goodbye and ciao
What rapid introspection, as during tranquil lull
Was thought and then was lost upon, and glance would soon befall
Approaching gentle movement, commence and dart away
Lunge full bore, sawing bow and sweeping sooth foray
Steeped to incredulity, behind inquiring glance
Thread simple hesitation, woven as a dance
Morphing other voices, and rhythm to enhance
Stretched around my temple, unlikely as romance
Extend seesaw return chutzpa
Winding up reverb
Unleash what's raw and look voila
Adoration cannot curb
Start again, reprise and yet, consider slower still
Metronomic candor, ascending toward yon hill
Drowning with your grandeur, grasping for a thrill
Bass and sound revolve around, strings they do instill
Impetuous dampened softness, rich with full contour
Sweet and slender tremor, ascend with bass once more
Burst horns upon my consciousness, alert to hear the score
Prepare one heart for apex, last passion to endure
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