Bev Tappan

Category: Poetry and Music Poems

Thoughts on the arts

  • Bev reads at ESOM – 7/22

    Ellen Schmidt Open Mike – July 18, 2022
    hosted by Dan Tappan

    • On a Summer Evening
    • My Grandfather’s House

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ONE FOR THE AUDIENCE

    ONE FOR THE AUDIENCE

    More credit should be given

    To brooders, to mother hens.

    Surely the gates of heaven

    Must be open to them

    Whose warm breasts shepherd the young.

    And those should be commended

    To whom the song is sung,

    Who put their hands together

    And give their welcome tongue.

    Appreciation is due

    To all receptive ears,

    The openhearted who

    Say yes to balladeers

    And sponsor new careers.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: MUSIC HATH CHARMS

    MUSIC HATH CHARMS

     (Inspired by the British boys’ choir Libra)

    Making music is among

    The least pernicious things

    We humans know how to achieve.

    Children’s voices raised in song

    Touch our hearts with melody,

    Rid us of self-centered sophistry,

    Soothe our savage propensities,

    Angelicize our bestiality.

    While we sing we feel no greed.

    No self loathing possesses us.

    Conniving envy passes us by.

    With ears attuned to harmony,

    We open ourselves to beauty.

    There’s love-light in our eyes.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE ART OF THE POEM

    THE ART OF THE POEM

    Oh I could probably pen

    The enigmatic page:

    “In the shattered mirror

    At the window I see crows…”

    Op Art is all the rage.

    As every critic knows,

    Poetry in plain style

    Is rather juvenile.

    But I would sooner share

    The loon song on the lake

    Or a stand of birches,

    One moment that may make

    Its mark on the sands of time

    In rhythm and in rhyme.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: ON A SUMMER EVENING

    ON A SUMMER EVENING

    Atop the Exeter town hall

    Our Lady of Justice

    Back-lighted by sunset

    Holds high her scales

    And weighs the brassy

    Marching strains

    Of the Exeter town band

    As we in our lawn chairs

    Watch the frisking children

    And smell the popcorn.

    A pair of Mexican Hairless

    Dogs parade by.

    The band segues

    Into a medley of waltzes.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THOUGHTS IN THE NEWFIELDS WORD BARN

    THOUGHTS IN THE NEWFIELDS WORD BARN

    At Open Mikes

    The spoken word

    Is often heard, but

    What of the unspoken word

    The forgotten word

    The belated word

    The word of advice

    The word of wisdom

    The word of caution

    In the Beginning

    Was the Word.

    Who will have

    The last word?

    Who will hear

    Our last word?

     

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: AT THE ACADEMY CONCERT

    AT THE ACADEMY CONCERT

    Last night we heard Beethoven’s

    “War and Peace” sonata

    (Or so I choose to call it):

    Brief interludes of harmony

    Give way to the clash of arms.

    And then the “Blitzkrieg Waltz”

    (Though he himself denies it):

    The dimly heard Valse by Ravel

    Drowned out by war’s alarums.

    It seems this new generation

    Of promising high school students

    Does not expect peace in their time.

    And those of us in our nineties

    Suspect that they are right.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: DANCE TIME

    DANCE TIME

    There’s a time for Ring Around the Rosy,

    Musical chairs and Farmer in the Dell,

    And a time for jitterbug, electro-pop,

    Disco, Eurobeat, New Wave as well.

    And then we do the wedding march and waltz,

    Virginia Reel and polka and all that

    Or mambo, samba, tango, lindy et al.

    Before the final shuffle with the walker.

    So when the caller hails you to the dance floor

    Kick up your heels and swing your partner round.

    Promenade and bow and dos si dos.

    Make the most of your time on the ground

    Before the lights begin to turn down low,

    The Exit sign above the door to glow.

  • OK, HERE’S MY ENTRY

    (The poetry group challenge)

    Ebullience is the word for a squirrel.
    He does not somnambulate.
    In his tree-limbed, fence-posted world
    He will fly with a flame-like grace.
    No dog can travel as he can,
    No bird out-fly his act.
    When I’m next on a ledge or a precipice
    At his antics I’ll take a crack.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: YOUNG MUSICIANS

    YOUNG MUSICIANS

    Their slender fingers ripple over the keys.

    Their bows stroke the strings with graceful ease.

    Over complex scores their ungrayed heads are bent.

    Their unlined brows furrow with grave intent.

    Mini-skirted or tie-shirted, they create

    Music we oldsters gratefully appreciate.

    This tender talent so pleasing to our ears

    We know will ripen richly in coming years.

  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: THE SOUND OF POETRY

    THE SOUND OF POETRY

    (Inspired by the Concord Inn Open Mike Program)

    A song is meant to be sung.

    A poem is meant to be said:

    Here are the ways I’ve gone,

    Here are the thoughts I’ve had.

    Vignettes along the road,

    Bits of scenes remembered,

    Sightings from my window:

    A poem is meant to be read.

    Music of assonant words

    Strung like the notes of a bird,

    Joined in a measured tread:

    A poem is meant to be heard.

    (October, 2014)


  • RIVERWOODS POEMS: FIREWORKS

    FIREWORKS

    (On being asked what is the process of writing a poem)

    You’ve seen the Grand Finale

    Start with a single spark

    After which the sky goes dark.

    The pause feels interminable.

    And then another twinkle,

    Faint but unmistakable.

    The wait becomes more bearable:

    The pattern is predictable.

    A snapping, crackling crescendo

    Of stuttering gunfire sends

    Out strands of blinding light,

    Illuminates the looming night.

    Likewise can a poem be born:

    One spark ignites the dawn.

    (January 4, 2014)