A Piano Lesson on “La Fille aux Cheveux de Lin”
(Prelude. Claude Debussy, 1910)
G flat or E flat minor? Should we care?
She’s trapped in five-barred prisons of black dots.
Our task? To set her free. Forget “Rigeur”
Play her as Debussy must have seen her.
Or play like Renoir, had he but painted songs
of Provence swathed in purples, gold and blue,
drowsing in the long, long summer’s ground-bass
where field and Alp and this short Prelude
greet her, twelve tones deep in lavender.
Play that first note to tell her that you’re there!
Pause till she lifts the latch, opens the door,
steps out in her little shoes - such dainty shoes!
Let her pace these down-and-up arpeggios, wearing -
straw hat, long skirts - white muslin stitched with blue
over ruched pantaloons, her bodice trim,
a lacy shawl, and ribbons, ribbons, ribbons
on her breast and hat and hair, a wicker trug
for rose-hips by her way. She turns, squints in the sun
whose beams fall stepwise to the garden gate,
pointing the path to where her sweetheart waits.
Think of her fingers busy with wild flowers
to help you through those four-part fugal bars, then
let the next rising measures sound as though
she’s pondering. Should she dare to jump the stream?
(Petite cherie! Look to the stepping-stones!)
Now make Degas look over Renoir’s shoulder,
as the forte triplets, presaging grande jete
send her hat skimming. She leaps - unladylike,
but no Maman to scold – lands safe,
picks up her hat, laughs at her fun . . . So why
these gloomy chords like clouds (with pedal) laid
between her sixteen summers and the sun?
No matter! Here’s where she sings the first motif,
(coaxed dolce from the treble - lift the mood . . . )
Someone close by is calling out her name.
She does not need to ask “Who’s there?”
as the last spread chord drifts slowly, like
a sweetheart’s fingers through her flaxen hair.
Note. This poem written at an earlier date, i.e. not specifically a response to the prompt.
Note. This poem written at an earlier date, i.e. not specifically a response to the prompt.

Sounds like one of the ghosts at Willow Manor! Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThis is lovely. Each scene was vivid in my mind.
ReplyDeleteMyrna R. - I tried to relate the scenes to the structure of Debussy's little Prelude.
ReplyDeleteI won't go all gushing on you etc but this does deserve a VG star!
ReplyDeleteShe’s trapped in five-barred prisons of black dots
ReplyDeleteI've known music do that to me too! Your piano plays its melody as I read the words...
I listened to the piece and your poem complements it very well (or vice versa). Kudos!
ReplyDeleteYour poem is quite beautiful, creating vivid images, bringing characters to life.
ReplyDeleteLittle girls, little girls--oh without
ReplyDeletethem what would little boys do?
Maurice Chevaliar. A grand piece,
juxtaposing Art & Music appreciation,
literature, poetry, with the lightness
of spirit lingering on each line that
sun shards breaking on lace doilies
brings, tiny joys, expanding irises,
and yet it is so good, so literate
that it puts my dummy hat back
on, for you seem to have an artesian
well of knowledge that you dip
deeply in. Good show, great magpie.
Not only is this a brilliant idea, but it is perfectly executed. It is clever in the best sense of the word and it both delighted me and led me on to deeper thoughts. When thinking begins in feeling, poetry is doing its job, I think. Thanks for this. I shall read it a few more times yet.
ReplyDeleteNice to find a gem amongst the pebbles.
ReplyDeleteA gem amongst the pebbles? Ouch.
ReplyDeleteIt is lovely, though.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThis comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThat's a little hard on many excellent Magpie writers, Lucy. On the other hand, few pebbles amongst your gems. When do we get the "Black Swans" poem?
ReplyDeleteThanks for all these kind comments. Can I humbly suggest that perhaps one of the reasons you seem to like it is that I did not write it in a hurry just to get high up the LinkyList. Poems rarely benefit from being rushed into print.
Jinksy . . . permission to remove your last two comments when that Fridge Soup debate has faded into the mists of time?
Absolutely! You can do it now, for the fact that you read them proves the point I was making!
ReplyDeleteI especially like the last two lines. Lovely poem.
ReplyDeleteI admire this magpie so much that I am going to make it my final read this early morning, so I can just be with it in my mind. Thank you.
ReplyDelete...me thinks you are the magpie master! amazing.
ReplyDeleteVivid imagery -- I like the way your words move back and forth between sights and sounds.
ReplyDelete