Ludwig von Beethoven had never mastered the elements of arithmetic beyond addition and subtraction. A thirteen-year-old boy whom he had befriended tried unsuccessfully to teach him simple multiplication and division.

quote by Jan Ehrenwald.
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And The Groom Said:

Forty words:

I tell the moon and stars that shine

Life is divine now you are mine

Your beauty glows with fairer hue

Since all my heavenly dreams came true

Beethoven's Romance will ever play...

Oh the glory of our wedding day.

poem by Joyce Hemsley
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Beethoven

Take a girl like that
And put her in a natural setting
Like a cafe for example.
Along comes the boy
And he's looking for trouble
With a girl like that
With a girl like that.
Who knows what they'll decide to do.
Who knows what they'll get up to.
I'd love to know.
Wouldn't you?
I love to listen to beethoven...
You think you know just what you want
But you have used that weapon agianst me.
Did i tell you i was lying by the way
When i said i wanted a new mink coat.
I was just thinking about
Something sleek
To wrap around my tender throat
I was dreaming like a texan girl

[...] Read more

song performed by Eurythmics
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If a professional musician in a symphony orchestra is playing Beethoven. But this particular orchestra have played this particular chestnut so many times, they can play it in their sleep. Does the genius remain present in the music or not?

quote by Robert Fripp
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A Tuned Up Mind

the mind -
it has to be laid with
keys and tones -
the solemnest bar for god
and down the way -
to the most trivial things
- a tone for every
life's high and low
so that when you speak
you would move every soul
as a beethoven piece
that swings and trails
through everybody's soul

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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An Honest tree

No restrictions dear friends!
And I breath all sort of air
From North, East, West & South.
That's why my fruits are so tasty
And please do not call them as illegitimate children!
I can whistle a Beethoven's great tune
But never play an instrument.

*(From an old prostitute's diary)

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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You've been listening to the adagio from Beethoven's 7th Symphony. I think Ludwig pretty much summed up death in this one. You know, he had lost just about all his hearing when he wrote it, and I've often wondered if that didn't help him tune into the final silence of the great beyond.

quote by Andrew Schneider
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If a man is called to be a streetsweeper, he should sweep streets even as Michelangelo painted or Beethoven composed music or Shakespeare wrote poetry. He should sweep streets so well that all the hosts of heaven and earth will pause and say, "Here lived a great streetsweeper who did his job well."

quote by Martin Luther King
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Minds in Harmony

Jane's interest is solely in music
Away from the bustle of town
And oh how she loves the music
When Greensleeves Fantasia comes round.
There's magic in the Vaughan Williams' sound.

James' days are too long without music
So many misgivings abound
And oh how he loves the music
When the Moonlight Sonata comes round.
There is mystery in the Beethoven sound.

poem by Joyce Hemsley
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A poor Barber's Rabbit

I have only one carrot
And I feed you little portions.
Please do not get misunderstand me
I am going for an interview now
For a barber's position!
If I get a chance to hold the razor firmly
Definitely I cut all the carrots in Judas's illegal farm
And bring you a lorry load in his wheelbarrow!

*We all make mistakes, but everyone makes different mistakes.
-Ludwig van Beethoven

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Mystic Journey: Fire 2

now we find this time on the cusp of day
most enchanting, and pause as dusk rings
the earth in fire, watching the spectral play
of clouds. gray linen cumulus threaten

an angry outburst, but settle for a sullen
squall. caught in the hysterics of a cirrus
clash in stratus, the blue spirit is fleeing
to higher realms of dying day. (miraculous

seven color rainbows tumble into and over
the cumulus cloud below, crowning their tops
with a music of moods from violet laughter
to gamma rage.) finally, attention does focus

on the prelude to purple night. the flame,
whose quick descent signals opening curtain
on an infinite stage of stars, is exiting.
tomorrow an encore, but never the same!

[...] Read more

poem by Doug Bentley
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Beautiful Noise

A mighty note hums and stirs in frequences
that could stagger Beethoven.

The delicate turn of paralysing phrases
weaving to and fro upon the conductor's page,
lifts the dumfound people to new horizions.

The celloist cuts his majestic bow,
shaking the ground beneath him.

The brave trumpet cries out in colour
that no artist could dream to dip in brush.

then the piano rumbles chaotically
in warm ballad fit for royalties pleasure.

poem by Adam Pergande
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The Fling

Fiddles to the left
And the feral goat
fiddles to the right
from the men in the boat

Drinks to the left
And wave the red flag
The same to the right
And we’ll all have a drag

Food to the left
food to the right
We’ll be here all day
in the middle of the night

Now remember
I’m first, your 2nd
Beethoven’s 5th
and I’m going home
after this

[...] Read more

poem by Sean Joyce
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Seeing a Clearer Me

layer by layer
i peel so that
like a glass
you can view me
crystal clear as a virgin river
a polished diamond

decades of
practice for those
seasoned fingers
to strike at her core
to bring out those few
beethoven scores
he tuned up the world for

a great watch maker
filing his cog to tighten time
the precision of mind
to keep a universal lie at bay

[...] Read more

poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Goya's Dog

1

in the
two-story
Quinta del Sordo
Goya deaf man himself
(like unlikable Beethoven)
73 now
lives
painting, painting on the walls

2

there is a
dog
just the head looking up
half-submerged
what is it?
is it earth, a hill?

[...] Read more

poem by Raj Arumugam
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The Mirror

Look into the mirror and make a change,
For Michelangelo painted and Beethoven composed;
But keep your mind up to do the right thing and,
Be very great in all that you do in this world.
Shakespeare wrote and Mozart composed,
And you are young and very attractive!
But ith a theologian emeritus without a view;
For behold! I have set before you an open door.
You do have a little strength to carry on this mission,
For the truth does not change like the order of an agape!
But the mirror on the wall is all that you need for a change.

poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Where cries begin when a broken tear smiles

I rest under a shady tree
Autumnal faded leaves tremble
with the peevish wind.
It looks like a Beethoven's symphony.
And I gaze at a faraway roof top flag post.
Torn flag waves in its sad rhythm
But the flag post stands straight
Like a young recruit.
Oh! If I am a newly painted flag post in the battlefield of life
Then I could have teach the flag how to show its true colors.

* To my unseen friend the silent song smith Nick Percowycz.
No palpitation heard since a long time from your territory. [Anchorville/Michigan] Are you passing well my dear?

poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Slowing Down A Bit

to calm myself
from this anxiety of the usual
procrastination

the sighs are not
helping me
some packets of clean
air inside my lungs
are mere tourists
living the scene after
a view

somehow i tell my feet
we have to slow down a bit
my brain shall empty
everything
like a garage sale
selling everything at a cheaper
price
all these used and

[...] Read more

poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Classical Music

Classical music makes me cry
Each time I hear a piece
My heart wells up with so much joy
Until music cease Chopin, Beethoven, and Mozart too
Make the inner sole want to sing
It makes me happy to hear the notes
To each note my heart wants to cling Classical music has never meant so much
To me until to Europe I went
But now it brings overwhelming joy
Many hours of listening are spent What a wondrous talent the writers did have
Of the Classicals I listen to each day
The joy it brings to many of us
Will last forever each day that it's played.

poem by Sharon Wiseman
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Staff Nurse: New Style

Blue-eyed and bright of face but waning fast
Into the sere of virginal decay,
I view her as she enters, day by day,
As a sweet sunset almost overpast.
Kindly and calm, patrician to the last,
Superbly falls her gown of sober gray,
And on her chignon's elegant array
The plainest cap is somehow touched with caste.
She talks BEETHOVEN; frowns disapprobation
At BALZAC'S name, sighs it at 'poor GEORGE SAND'S';
Knows that she has exceeding pretty hands;
Speaks Latin with a right accentuation;
And gives at need (as one who understands)
Draught, counsel, diagnosis, exhortation.

poem by William Ernest Henley
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