Round two of the Sonnet Duel is under way!
In delightfully happy news, I have just (as of 10 minutes ago) finished the classroom requirements for my Kindermusik certification. YAY! This whole process was at least as hard for me as preparing my master’s recital 2 years ago. At least then, I knew that I could play the violin. This time, facing all kinds of trouble, I wasn’t even sure of that! Well, anyway, it’s done. Go me!
In less lovely news….I did not have a chance to write a new sonnet. Fortunately, that BROTHER my RIVAL and I did have a safety net thrown into the game. We each had a back up sonnet and agreed to use it as a wild card if our lives got a bit hectic. I resisted the thought of using this fail safe so early in the dual, but I think considering the fortnight I have spent, it is all to the good.
So this is a sonnet written during a music history class about 3 years ago. We were discussing the early baroque habit of writing pieces that, through their idiomatic writing, tell the story of a popular activity. My favorite are the early pieces for violin, just newly exploring what a violin can do. A nice guy called “Biber” (pronounced just like Bieber…just …500 years ago… and…well…Counter-Reformation periodBaroque) wrote this lovely “Battalia”.
Listen to the war! GRRRRR!!! Violins and violence ! All within the brand new idiomatic confines of the brand new violin. Oh, and I am sorry that the second movement sounds odd. It is the 16th century version of Charles Ives, representing the various military musicians all warming up near each other. Enjoy! (hehehe….)
Anyway, the Battalias are fun. But there were also works intended to musically illustrate the Hunt. And these were called La Chasse. They’re not as dissonant, but they did hit home and I wrote this wistful and rather youthful sonnet.
Again the hart escapes around the bend
Thwarted again along my fevered chase.
Further, toward the crimson dying glen
Take up again the hunt, the wearied race.
Eluding, evading, escaping every net
Fox hounds, wide traps; my cunning wiles and care
How did I misjudge the course he set
I, the Huntress; frightening and fair?
It never was this difficult for me.
My hounds are fat and lazy through disuse
Before, the hart, unbidden, came to me.
I am not used to thinking up a ruse.
But now the nets are thrown, the traps are set.
I wring my hands! Why won’t he love me yet?