She opened her mouth, the taste of music settling on her tongue. The scent of the bass filled her and the tingle of the pianist’s fingers played across her skin. She was lost in the symphony of senses.
Oh how we all moved in time together that night. Wasn’t it just the greatest. You were standing so close that I could feel every little rhythm from each and every one. But that was long ago now. That was before the responsibilities crept in. Family. Children and such. Oh my!
Zero orchestra. That’s part of a song. Violins, horns, trumpets, bass, percussion. All rise in a glorious, harmonious cacaphony of sound. Strings vibrate. Flutes and clarinet shape the wind into sound. But really, it’s all just compressed air waves finding their way to our inner ears.
When all of the other third graders went to play with the orchestra during Science class every Wednesday, I was stuck with Sean R and Randy C, my two crushes. Once we dug into solid chunks of mud looking for little things Ms. Erickson had hidden and when Sean left the little shovel on his desk I took it and hid it in my own.
Its the melancholy state of mind that wants to reach into me and take away the sweet song i sing. So sweet is the sound of the song, it reminds me of the orchestra i was born with, but now im left with the small flute of a soul.
Hundreds flooded into the theater. They were chattering about how great their children or friends were at playing this or that. Then, as they got to their seats, the musician gave the signal for them to be quiet. The trombones began to play and as the song filled the room, no one spoke a word. Everyone just watched in awe at this magical moment.
From the top I hear a symphony of music, I especially hear the trumpets blarring its sounds loud into the air. As this music fills the air and our bodys begin to dance the orchestra stops to breathe
I always wished I was in orchestra, but I chose to play guitar instead. My boyfriend played the cello, but years before I knew him. It’s one of the things I like best about him, but he doesn’t even play anymore. I’m not sure what that says about us. There’s something mesmerizing about string instruments.
The orchestra played Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 with grace and gusto, and the minor intonations of a horrifying “Frere Jacques” crept into my ears to sleep. That night, I drank beer on the apartment balcony, with my brother curled up in a ball beside me. He was five years old and too tall for his age. He had cried during the third movement. I didn’t blame him.
the sounds flooded into her ears like a moon tide over taking the beach. it was beautiful and melancholy. tears slid into her smile as she watched the colors play across her eyelids with the pull of the strings and bellow of the brass.
i love music. an orchestra fills my mind every day of my life. when i have a loss for words or feel like the world is crashing down on me, i let the orchestra in my mind take over. i let the music fill me up and save me. music has saved me more times than i can imagine. if it weren’t for the orchestra in my head, i don’t know what i’d do. sometimes you need to just let the orchestra in your head take over.. <3
Everyone stood still, awaiting their conductor to arrive. Neither side made the first move, neither side made a mistake. But this disappeared in a flash. As the conductor took stage and flailed his arms wildly, both parties moved forward, playing their rapid-fire instruments in loud successive blasts.
It was a night Donna will never forget as long as she lives. The whole orchestra disappeared when the stage caved in. Bill was the only one who died. He sat in for Donna that night as she was at her husbands memorial service.
Taking another journey, following another path,
It should never be so scary to be different,
To compose a new piece,
To hear a different sound,
So why is there fear in your voice,
As your lips speak your truth?
Do you not know of us,
That we can catch the melody,
And play alongside,
To the new rhythm that you speak?
Maybe something beautiful would come out of it,
And say something worth saying,
Worth listening.
When I listen to orchestra music it always seems to rise and fall, then intensify with whatever my activity is. It’s so awesome. Listen to orchestra music when you’re cooking and your kitchen will be very messy! :)
An orchestra of silence. Can you hear it? It’s there, just at the edge of your mind, whispering such beautiful melodies of wonder and sadness. Of deep intoxicating magic and spells and power and it will teach you if you just listen. Of worlds, new, lost, forbidden, forgotten. The silence remembers everything. And if you listen, truly listen to the orchestra of silence. They can teach and show you too.
There’s a symphony of thoughts running through scores in my mind as I type. You’d think that they’d all crash & clash and create nothing more than noise, but somehow a melody has formed and the song they are producing is harmonious. ~music to my ears ~
Movement barely registered. Shift in change of energy. Tweak of light. Nuance of fragrance. Aroma of freedom. Subtle but there. I knew it was important. I could hear a faint orchestra humming in the background.
there is an orchestra in my mind
i lovingly refer to it as my subconscious
it guides me
we are made up of so many different parts
yet each instrument in us can play separately, on their own
and often they do
and often they practice. alone.
yet when they come together
they make a beautiful sound
and every time they place in sync
they get closer and closer to perfecting that tune
i and my orchestra
work together
to perfect our tune
the two players began there beautiful duet. Their bows fell elegantly across the strings like the flapping of birds wings in slow motion. The audience was so captivated by the sound that none of them noticed the possibility of the two instrumentalists connection off stage.
as Jenna walked past the orchestra store on her left she looked in the window with longing look at a new violin case she had been saving for for months.
I sit in the audience, hidden by the thousand blank faces. Staring with closed eyes, the orchestra echoing throughout the concert hall, the ghost of the music filling our souls.
My emotions play like a string quartet, they strain and sing the song of grief words cannot express. Perhaps the pen is mightier than the sword, but in times like these the bow is the mightiest of all. You were like the ocean, perfect and endless, but now you may as well have been a puddle carelessly stepped in on a cold winter day.
The orchestra played slowly and seductively, all the listeners warned and listne in awe. The sounds of the violins gave the audience goose bumps, the piano drew them in, and all of the other instruments just helped to make the different sounds to reunite and form the beautiful music. There is nothing lee beautiful and relaxing in this world.
I used to play orchestra when I was in 3rd grade. I played the violin and completely hated it. I don’t know why. I know I won’t play again. That’s just my opinion.
The orchestra warmed up. Martin smiled, took in the great, gilded concert hall and hummed discordant. His wife, Natalie, jabbed him with her tightly rolled program and his humming skipped, dragged over grooves of years of disapproval and grabbed hold at Pulkkis’ Tears of Ludovico. Natalie froze horrified in her seat and shattered on the orchestra’s distinct opening notes.
the orchestra hummed as i looked through my golden spectacles at the stage revealed by a velvet curtain. Josh held my hand in his and i couldn’t help but glance at him in his dashing tux. his hands were warm and i couldn’t help but stare. “what.” he questioned me. “it’s nothing” i replied shaking my head a little, “it’s just so perfect. this moment” and he smile at me with true affection.
When i was young i was in the orchestra. I played the violin at first but then i transitioned to the upright bass. This eventually led to me exploring the electric bass and i later switched to acoustic guitar. I taught myself to play with the knowledge already acquired from the orchestra and now i’ve been playing for ten years.
In an orchestra, each person is responsible for his or her own part, and for the performance of his or her section. This responsibility creates a cohesive organism instead of individuals attempting to align. This bond between musicians cannot end, it can only be paused once the final note is played to perfection.
She opened her mouth, the taste of music settling on her tongue. The scent of the bass filled her and the tingle of the pianist’s fingers played across her skin. She was lost in the symphony of senses.
Oh how we all moved in time together that night. Wasn’t it just the greatest. You were standing so close that I could feel every little rhythm from each and every one. But that was long ago now. That was before the responsibilities crept in. Family. Children and such. Oh my!
Zero orchestra. That’s part of a song. Violins, horns, trumpets, bass, percussion. All rise in a glorious, harmonious cacaphony of sound. Strings vibrate. Flutes and clarinet shape the wind into sound. But really, it’s all just compressed air waves finding their way to our inner ears.
When all of the other third graders went to play with the orchestra during Science class every Wednesday, I was stuck with Sean R and Randy C, my two crushes. Once we dug into solid chunks of mud looking for little things Ms. Erickson had hidden and when Sean left the little shovel on his desk I took it and hid it in my own.
Its the melancholy state of mind that wants to reach into me and take away the sweet song i sing. So sweet is the sound of the song, it reminds me of the orchestra i was born with, but now im left with the small flute of a soul.
Hundreds flooded into the theater. They were chattering about how great their children or friends were at playing this or that. Then, as they got to their seats, the musician gave the signal for them to be quiet. The trombones began to play and as the song filled the room, no one spoke a word. Everyone just watched in awe at this magical moment.
My friend was in an orchestra. They played the viola with a herring. It was an interesting orchestra.
The sound of nature, or the sound of main made city. Natural or instrumental. Beautiful, filling a room with joy. Sweet serenade of music.
Birth is like an orchestra. Only a master conductor can direct that freaking crazy time and have a living child result. No joke.
From the top I hear a symphony of music, I especially hear the trumpets blarring its sounds loud into the air. As this music fills the air and our bodys begin to dance the orchestra stops to breathe
I always wished I was in orchestra, but I chose to play guitar instead. My boyfriend played the cello, but years before I knew him. It’s one of the things I like best about him, but he doesn’t even play anymore. I’m not sure what that says about us. There’s something mesmerizing about string instruments.
The orchestra played Gustav Mahler’s Symphony No. 1 with grace and gusto, and the minor intonations of a horrifying “Frere Jacques” crept into my ears to sleep. That night, I drank beer on the apartment balcony, with my brother curled up in a ball beside me. He was five years old and too tall for his age. He had cried during the third movement. I didn’t blame him.
The orchestra played a beautiful song
The dancers danced and danced along
the sounds flooded into her ears like a moon tide over taking the beach. it was beautiful and melancholy. tears slid into her smile as she watched the colors play across her eyelids with the pull of the strings and bellow of the brass.
i love music. an orchestra fills my mind every day of my life. when i have a loss for words or feel like the world is crashing down on me, i let the orchestra in my mind take over. i let the music fill me up and save me. music has saved me more times than i can imagine. if it weren’t for the orchestra in my head, i don’t know what i’d do. sometimes you need to just let the orchestra in your head take over.. <3
Everyone stood still, awaiting their conductor to arrive. Neither side made the first move, neither side made a mistake. But this disappeared in a flash. As the conductor took stage and flailed his arms wildly, both parties moved forward, playing their rapid-fire instruments in loud successive blasts.
It was the orchestra of war.
It was a night Donna will never forget as long as she lives. The whole orchestra disappeared when the stage caved in. Bill was the only one who died. He sat in for Donna that night as she was at her husbands memorial service.
Taking another journey, following another path,
It should never be so scary to be different,
To compose a new piece,
To hear a different sound,
So why is there fear in your voice,
As your lips speak your truth?
Do you not know of us,
That we can catch the melody,
And play alongside,
To the new rhythm that you speak?
Maybe something beautiful would come out of it,
And say something worth saying,
Worth listening.
When I listen to orchestra music it always seems to rise and fall, then intensify with whatever my activity is. It’s so awesome. Listen to orchestra music when you’re cooking and your kitchen will be very messy! :)
An orchestra of silence. Can you hear it? It’s there, just at the edge of your mind, whispering such beautiful melodies of wonder and sadness. Of deep intoxicating magic and spells and power and it will teach you if you just listen. Of worlds, new, lost, forbidden, forgotten. The silence remembers everything. And if you listen, truly listen to the orchestra of silence. They can teach and show you too.
There’s a symphony of thoughts running through scores in my mind as I type. You’d think that they’d all crash & clash and create nothing more than noise, but somehow a melody has formed and the song they are producing is harmonious. ~music to my ears ~
bows ghosting against the strings of his violin
Movement barely registered. Shift in change of energy. Tweak of light. Nuance of fragrance. Aroma of freedom. Subtle but there. I knew it was important. I could hear a faint orchestra humming in the background.
there is an orchestra in my mind
i lovingly refer to it as my subconscious
it guides me
we are made up of so many different parts
yet each instrument in us can play separately, on their own
and often they do
and often they practice. alone.
yet when they come together
they make a beautiful sound
and every time they place in sync
they get closer and closer to perfecting that tune
i and my orchestra
work together
to perfect our tune
the two players began there beautiful duet. Their bows fell elegantly across the strings like the flapping of birds wings in slow motion. The audience was so captivated by the sound that none of them noticed the possibility of the two instrumentalists connection off stage.
The sound of warm violins started playing in the small dance hall. Andrew looked over at me, smirking, and held out his hand for me to take.
as Jenna walked past the orchestra store on her left she looked in the window with longing look at a new violin case she had been saving for for months.
I sit in the audience, hidden by the thousand blank faces. Staring with closed eyes, the orchestra echoing throughout the concert hall, the ghost of the music filling our souls.
quick they are playing our lives on the cave mouth drum
dance! dance!
before we are eaten by the stars!
the sound, it just rose within me and went to the tips of my fingers and I shuddered – I kept my mouth clenched shut, for otherwise I would sing along
My emotions play like a string quartet, they strain and sing the song of grief words cannot express. Perhaps the pen is mightier than the sword, but in times like these the bow is the mightiest of all. You were like the ocean, perfect and endless, but now you may as well have been a puddle carelessly stepped in on a cold winter day.
The orchestra played slowly and seductively, all the listeners warned and listne in awe. The sounds of the violins gave the audience goose bumps, the piano drew them in, and all of the other instruments just helped to make the different sounds to reunite and form the beautiful music. There is nothing lee beautiful and relaxing in this world.
I used to play orchestra when I was in 3rd grade. I played the violin and completely hated it. I don’t know why. I know I won’t play again. That’s just my opinion.
Sometimes, running my life feels like I’m conducting a poorly coordinated orchestra.
orchestra is like plethora.
the orchestra is a lovely way to spend time.
i go watch whenever i can.
i wish i could say i played in my school’s.
The orchestra warmed up. Martin smiled, took in the great, gilded concert hall and hummed discordant. His wife, Natalie, jabbed him with her tightly rolled program and his humming skipped, dragged over grooves of years of disapproval and grabbed hold at Pulkkis’ Tears of Ludovico. Natalie froze horrified in her seat and shattered on the orchestra’s distinct opening notes.
the orchestra hummed as i looked through my golden spectacles at the stage revealed by a velvet curtain. Josh held my hand in his and i couldn’t help but glance at him in his dashing tux. his hands were warm and i couldn’t help but stare. “what.” he questioned me. “it’s nothing” i replied shaking my head a little, “it’s just so perfect. this moment” and he smile at me with true affection.
When i was young i was in the orchestra. I played the violin at first but then i transitioned to the upright bass. This eventually led to me exploring the electric bass and i later switched to acoustic guitar. I taught myself to play with the knowledge already acquired from the orchestra and now i’ve been playing for ten years.
In an orchestra, each person is responsible for his or her own part, and for the performance of his or her section. This responsibility creates a cohesive organism instead of individuals attempting to align. This bond between musicians cannot end, it can only be paused once the final note is played to perfection.
Swank Lake. I have to see it