Category Archives: art

The Good Earworm

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This head scratching verse from Steve Shoemaker arrived this morning in response to yesterday’s post about the song in my head:

thegoodearworm

thelord’smyshep-herdi’llnotwant
hema-akesmedowntolie
inpa-asturesgreenhele-e-dethme
thequi-i-etwatersby

“What’s an earworm?” I wrote back. He phoned a few minutes later. “Don’t you know what an earworm is? Nadja didn’t know either. Look it up in an Urban Dictionary. It’s a song that gets stuck in your head.” “I didn’t know you were so street-smart,” said I. We had a good laugh. I looked it up.

Earworm: “A song that sticks in your mind, and will not leave no matter how much you try. The best way to get rid of an earworm is to replace it with another. Be prepared to become a jukebox.” (from Urbandictionary.com)

The earworm Steve seems to be hearing is the Crimond musical setting for Psalm 23. Dipping into the jukebox, here’s another lovely setting for the psalm, the replacement ear worm:

 

 

 

 

Stillness on All Hallows’ Eve

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Kay in the Boundary Water Canoe Wilderness Area

Kay in the Boundary Water Canoe Wilderness Area

Woke up this morning with a song singing in my head. It happens more often as I move toward retirement. Sometimes it’s a hymn. During the World Series it was “America the Beautiful”. The music comes uninvited. Sometimes it seems to come from nowhere.

This morning, October 31 – All Hallows’ Eve, Halloween – the tune (without lyrics) was “Still, Still, Still,” the Austrian Christmas carol! It’s also our 16th Wedding Anniversary when “Still, Still, Still” (“Calm, Calm, Calm”) must have known what I feel when I think of Kay.

Here’s “Still, Still, Still” played by child prodigy Akim Camara on his violin. Look for the joy on his face.

Verse – Polyphony in Poetry

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For a poem to sing
must it be in a song?:
Is a melody needed
beyond a mere drone?
Can the words on a page
create true harmony?
Are duets possible
realistically?

I cannot write
a round, a round.
A canon cannot
make one sound.

Each syllable makes just one note:
no melisma in poet’s throat…

to find one’s voice
amid the cacophony
of post-industrial, technological
society (with advertisements
POPPING UP everywhere)
is difficult enough without
hoping to be the J.S. Bach
of modern literature

One line at a time,
No need for a rhyme:
One chirp from a bird
is worth being heard.

Go to a concert for
polyphony.

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Oct. 19, 2014

King David

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King David

King David

“A man after God’s own heart,”
Divinely favored, protected,

Yet violent, a killer with a stone,
Then beheading giant Goliath.

A womanizer, polygamous,
Taking beautiful Bathsheba

When her husband was away,
Then plotting his death…done.

A model King? God’s anointed?
But war-cursed when he sinned…

Ancestor with his stolen wife
Of the coming Messiah:

He never prayed to escape justice,
Always finally knew his own fault,

Sang sweetly of God’s goodness,
Confessed his stinking sins,

Suffered, lost his man-love, love-child,
Yet by grace, with grace, ruled forty years…

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, Oct. 7, 2014

Blessed Mary

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The CHOIR magnificently sang
Bach’s LOUD complex “Magnificat!”
The orchestra was small, but rang
Out BRASS and DRUMS and ORGEL that
Reverberated through the Hall.

That GOD was GREAT there was no doubt,
The fugue repeated that till all
Could not help but join in the SHOUT!

(but then the oboe d’ amour stood
and quietly began with D
a tune of slave and poverty…
the cello cello cello droned

as pure and sweet soprano voice
recalled the Virgin’s humble choice.)

– Steven R. Shoemaker & Margaret R. Grossman

Note: Peggy Grossman is a Biochemistry professor at the University of Illinois who plays oboe in the Champaign-Urbana Symphony. She and Steve shared the experience of the Bach Magnificat.

Burners

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Verse – Burning Man (A Negative Acrostic)

Burners all must have real money,
Unless they will win the draw.
Rich folks flock to wear the funny
Nighttime costumes, whites will all
Imitate the best black dance moves,
Not that many blacks are there…
Get the best rental motor homes,

Make plans, we have time to spare
Art’s in our homes, our museums:
Narcissistic, not a care…

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, August 31, 2014

Steve attended Burning Man 2014 in Nevada this past week. Steve’s 71, had the money to go, but shared a tent.  He wrote by email “I did accapella singing, heard great jazz, rode on an art car (see the burningman.com web site). I would only go back in an RV… For the quiet, AC, & clean toilet & shower.”

In Memory of Jean Redpath

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Verse In Memory of Jean Redpath
An Acrostic

Joyful on the stage or off,
Even after doctors gave
A cancer diagnosis. Have
No doubt that the Scot did laugh,

Reassured her friends and fans,
Endured treatment with a song,
Drank some scotch, then sang again!
Played the guitar, sent emails,
Always asked about her friends,
Thankful that she could still sing,
Hearing her sweet Robbie Burns…

– Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, August 26, 2014

Verse – Vanity

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“Vanity, Vanity, All Is Vanity…” Ecclesiastes

There are companies (for profit, of course)
that feed the egos of people in choirs
throughout America. They hire a hall

(Carnegie, Kennedy) or Cathedral
in Europe needing cash, and for a fee
will fly or bus us singers there. A “FREE

Concert Today!” is the result, and folks
(tourists) are dragged in off the streets
to hear the songs of BROADWAY! or of BRAHMS!

(Or aged aided ears are wheeled from “Homes”
with “Music Clubs” to fill the seats or pews.)
The “Concerts” never seem to make the news…

So if you’ve heard the singers who have said,
“Yes, WE sang THERE!” you know that they have paid.

Charlie Wisseman – Acrostic

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Charlie Wisseman

Charlie Wisseman

Charlie Wisseman
(An Acrostic)

Craft? Art? What is this new construction?
How is it even worth debating?
An artist surely in conception,
Real thought, and then the Thing creating…
Look well, each level may be hollow,
Inside another world is waiting,
Enlightenment may sometimes follow.

Wise man is right: so much is hidden,
Inside surprises, jokes, a giggle…
So secret are the ways to open
Sweet Sarah herself has to struggle
Each time a new box by the craftsman
Makes entrance into pure existence.
And who would know of so much hidden?
Now a pathologist, for instance?

-Steve Shoemaker, Urbana, IL, May 1, 2014

Goin’ Up Yonder

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Miss PaviElle French sang this solo at Shepherd of the Hill Presbyterian Church in Chaska, MN on Easter, 2014.