In honor of my brother, Ed

SILENT STRINGS

 

There were mandolins and banjos

And guitars that he had played

But what he loved the best of all

Was a violin he’d made

 

His craftsmanship was perfect

He played them all with skill

Music filled his heart with joy

But now those strings are still

 

The violin lies silently

In its case upon a shelf

I’d take it out and make it sing

If I had his skill myself

 

But no one made it sing like him

The melodies so sweet

His bow caressed the strings with love

But the memory’s bittersweet

 

For he has gone where Angels sing

His music left behind

Yet, I still hear those sweet refrains

But only in my mind

 

Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck        7/1/03

Read Full Post »

My dad played the Fiddle

            PAPA’S VIOLIN

 

When Papa played the violin

          Mom rolled the rug away

We children smiled because she knew

          We’d rather dance than play

As Papa raised the tempo

          Our feet kept cadenced time

Mama often sang along

          With words in perfect rhyme

We’d dance until the music stopped

          Then fall into a chair

While Papa changed the tempo

          With expertise quite rare

It seemed he knew a million tunes

          At least I thought he did

But that was admiration

          Through the heart of a kid

Yet, he could play forever

          And without one repeat

The music slow or lively

          With melody so sweet

From concert music and old tunes

          To music of the day

Two-step, waltz, and hoedown

          Oh, how sweet he’d play

He could set your heart soaring

          On his concert violin

The room so still you could hear

          The soft drop of a pin

But then with quick transition

          The tempo changed once more

From violin to fiddle

          And our feet caressed the floor

That little box of polished wood

          With strings and resined bow

Made music that pleased angels

          Or inspired heel and toe

But that was just acoustics

          And guaranteed to please

What really made that box sing

          Was Papa’s expertise

 

 

6/11/90        Phyllis DeWitt VanVleck

 

6’th … Indiana NPD 1999

Read Full Post »

The Blue Waltz

THE BLUE WALTZ

  

Of all the songs he played for me

With violin and bow

My favorite was The Blue Waltz

He played so sweet and low

 

I’d whirl around the room alone

In time with that sweet song

And often I’d just close my eyes

And softly hum along

 

I rock-a-byed my little ones

Humming those sweet strains

And as they grew, I’d hum again

To sooth their growing pains

 

The violin is silent now

Stilled when it’s owner died

It lies upon my closet shelf

Stained with tears I cried

 

But in the early morning hours

And frequently at night

I think I hear The Blue Waltz played

Ethereal and light

 

It flows through years of memory

As lovely as before

Oh, how I wish that violin

Could play that song once more

 

3/12/01          Phyllis DeWitt-VanVleck

Read Full Post »