The orchestra. What sounds more beautiful than instruments combined into one lovely song? Nothing, I would say. Sometimes I hear their songs in my head, a dull note followed by a few lovely tones of a different instrument. Sometimes the music keeps me sane. Other times, it just adds to the confusion and the paranoia that keeps my brain trapped.
This group plays music that is pleasant to hear. When I was younger my school took a field trip every year to listen to a famous orchestra. All of the different instruments are appealing to me and I wish I knew how to play some of them.
they shakily march down a dark, worn path.
they are whipped,
tortured,
laughed at.
some fall flat on their faces.
tears flow from their eyes
and they recite one final prayer
as the single violin sings
the sorrow of the Holocaust
orchestra, orchestrate. orchid. orchids are the word for penis. orchids look like penises now that you know that. never will look at an orchid the same, will you? Greek, I believe. Not latin. I wonder what the Latin for penis is.
The orchestra was the making of me. I used to practise my cello all on my own. While I thoroughly enjoyed myself, I was lonely. Now I have plenty of company. The orchestra is very sociable. I have improved my timing also.
I love the french horn. It’s something that I’ve only played for a few years but I really loved it at one point. I really thought that I could pursue something playing my little french horn. I grew out of it quickly however. I’d like to start playing again. My french horn teacher at camp reminds me of Tobias from Arrested Development.
They moved together, each component succumbing to the larger machine. She sighed. She didn’t see her brother anywhere, his body likely hidden within a sea of violinists, all moving together like the tentacles of an octopus.
The music played, blasting in a jubilant crescendo. The sounds were so beautiful, almost magical, that she sincerely believed it to be the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. Smiling, she gazed down, as the music flowed around. Suddenly, she sensed a gaze to her left…and she looked and saw her future.
Closing my eyes, I dreamed that I was far, far away, back on the beach. Next to me was my grandfather, with two ice cream cones in his hands, eyes smiling at me. I bounded over to him and kissing him on the cheek, I took the ice cream cone and ate it slowly, feeling an orchestra of taste over whelming my mouth while listening to his soft laughter and he started to sing my song.
I miss my grandfather.
Diabetes Awareness Day
My friend Becky plays the viola. She has for decades now. Before I knew Becky, I never even knew what a viola was! Heck. Before I knew Becky, I’d never seen a live orchestra. She took me to the public library when we were in high school where a special concert was being performed. From that moment, I began to fall in love with the sound of live orchestral music.
they played in a weird sort of harmony – the large drooping cellos with their winey deep oomph and the half-size violins, flitting like fairies, playing around the branches of the harmony, a tree that kept growing at both sides and never stopped being beautiful.
The orchestra was ready. The players had prepared for this moment. The conductor tapped on his stand the way they are known to do. And a hush fell on the crowd. It was like they all waited for the music to breath for them.
The noise made me wiggle in my seat. The sound reminded me of my homeland. like I was in the middle of the meadows picking flowers with my mum. The way the orchestra makes me feel… irreplaceable.
I regret giving up piano when I was in fourth grade. At the time, I was too lazy and discouraged I wasn’t emerging as a prodigy to continue it. Testament to my current work ethic. I can’t follow things through unless I know I can achieve what I want quickly and easily.
The sweeping, plummeting, moving, cascading fanfares sounded in her head to deafen the noise of the real world. The soft, spirited melodies and the dramatic, quieted moments swept her away from her trivial concerns and into a life where nothing mattered except the bow in her hand and the sound of the strings. The vibrations themselves seemed to exist as their own life force, their own energy, their very own being.
orchestra is a hard word to spell, i just spelled it wrong 3 times. orchestra reminds me of 3rd grade when i played the violin and i hated it but my friend made me keep playing so she wouldn’t be by herself and her violin
orchestra reminds me of night. it reminds me of crickets and night butterlies buzzing to lanterns. it reminds me of frogs and warm weather and a treasured breeze. orchestra is nature – everything for once working in a weird sort of harmony… the orchestra of night.
now i have added myself time!!
imagine a scene like this – you’re forced to go outside (to deliver a letter, to your neighbor… about a half mile through some woods) and there’s a little stream you have to cross. it’s glowing an icicle’s blue.
and you see a man! a shadow, a sillouhette, and he’s playing the violin, bent over like a spider. and in his orchestra is all the previously described sounds.
orchestra reminds me of night. it reminds me of crickets and night butterlies buzzing to lanterns. it reminds me of frogs and warm weather and a treasured breeze. orchestra is nature – everything for once working in a weird sort of harmony… the orchestra of night.
“The best seats in the house,” my husband announced. “Just for you, because I love you.” And he does. He would not have bought tickets for himself to the Lion King, but he knew I wanted to go.
The strings collected along with the sounds of a subtle cello and stern bass. He loved going to these concerts, but he hated the way the seats were tattered and his elbow poked an elderly woman beside him. Being in the crowd, surrounded by beautiful music, he could forget for a few important moments that he was lonely and couldn’t afford the things he needed or wanted.
The live music from the group of people. The swell of sounds over layering one another in a united symphony. The beautiful gleams of the metal instruments from the team were shining as lovely, graceful music flowed from each of them to dance with one another in a synchronized timing of sound.
The orchestra was blaring loudly as she stepped into the ballroom. the song was lovely and peaceful, but to her it sounded different; it matched her mood: rage. he was waiting for her in the center of the dance floor, a look plastered to his face that she could not identify. he held his hand out for her to take; everyone was watching. his lips were a firm, hard line. she fit hers to match. then she grasped his hand and they began to dance. it was the best she had ever waltzed. and she hated every moment of it.
As they drew the bows across the strings, my heart leapt for joy within me. Tonight, my soul would take flight on a journey of musical airs. How I love the deep resounding drums, the tinny brass, the trebliing woodwinds.
A combination of all the instruments that produce heavenly sounds. Yanni has been an inspiration for me when it comes to orchestra. Although sometimes, listing to an orchestra’s boring…
it erupted like a wave unleashed from the belly of the ocean, quarter notes flowing over my head, treble clefs pregnant with melody floating, disturbing the atmospheric solemnity with the song clamoring to be born.
I’ve always thought that orchestras were only for old people. Sitting there, listening to you describing Mozart and Beethoven and how there were the first to shred, using the cellos and violins, showed me that anyone, even the youngest of delinquents can enjoy all music. I want to see an orchestra now more than anything else.
This whole crazy year is being played out in parts that somehow all make sense together, but I only feel them one by one. All together, it will all work out, even if it seems like only a beautiful mess now.
the sounds as they flew off the walls and the ceiling I felt like I’d never heard something so clearly so truly real so loud it was like all the instruments were playing for me and at me telling me something whispering “this isn’t just an orchestra this is your life”
Sweetness in an evening, that we all but forget to visit. Think of the people, who play for us all. Who learn and pour their soul into a song, together making a sound, above our own, that captures our soul if we listen properly. I think i will buy tickets.
The orchestra. What sounds more beautiful than instruments combined into one lovely song? Nothing, I would say. Sometimes I hear their songs in my head, a dull note followed by a few lovely tones of a different instrument. Sometimes the music keeps me sane. Other times, it just adds to the confusion and the paranoia that keeps my brain trapped.
This group plays music that is pleasant to hear. When I was younger my school took a field trip every year to listen to a famous orchestra. All of the different instruments are appealing to me and I wish I knew how to play some of them.
they shakily march down a dark, worn path.
they are whipped,
tortured,
laughed at.
some fall flat on their faces.
tears flow from their eyes
and they recite one final prayer
as the single violin sings
the sorrow of the Holocaust
orchestra, orchestrate. orchid. orchids are the word for penis. orchids look like penises now that you know that. never will look at an orchid the same, will you? Greek, I believe. Not latin. I wonder what the Latin for penis is.
ok.
The orchestra was the making of me. I used to practise my cello all on my own. While I thoroughly enjoyed myself, I was lonely. Now I have plenty of company. The orchestra is very sociable. I have improved my timing also.
I love the french horn. It’s something that I’ve only played for a few years but I really loved it at one point. I really thought that I could pursue something playing my little french horn. I grew out of it quickly however. I’d like to start playing again. My french horn teacher at camp reminds me of Tobias from Arrested Development.
Tweetle
parp parp
tweet
screeeech.
Da-dum dum schhh!
They moved together, each component succumbing to the larger machine. She sighed. She didn’t see her brother anywhere, his body likely hidden within a sea of violinists, all moving together like the tentacles of an octopus.
The music played, blasting in a jubilant crescendo. The sounds were so beautiful, almost magical, that she sincerely believed it to be the most beautiful thing she’d ever heard. Smiling, she gazed down, as the music flowed around. Suddenly, she sensed a gaze to her left…and she looked and saw her future.
Closing my eyes, I dreamed that I was far, far away, back on the beach. Next to me was my grandfather, with two ice cream cones in his hands, eyes smiling at me. I bounded over to him and kissing him on the cheek, I took the ice cream cone and ate it slowly, feeling an orchestra of taste over whelming my mouth while listening to his soft laughter and he started to sing my song.
I miss my grandfather.
Diabetes Awareness Day
A cacophony of blaring, bleating, thumping, crashing and (in high school) acne.
Orchestra
My friend Becky plays the viola. She has for decades now. Before I knew Becky, I never even knew what a viola was! Heck. Before I knew Becky, I’d never seen a live orchestra. She took me to the public library when we were in high school where a special concert was being performed. From that moment, I began to fall in love with the sound of live orchestral music.
they played in a weird sort of harmony – the large drooping cellos with their winey deep oomph and the half-size violins, flitting like fairies, playing around the branches of the harmony, a tree that kept growing at both sides and never stopped being beautiful.
The orchestra was ready. The players had prepared for this moment. The conductor tapped on his stand the way they are known to do. And a hush fell on the crowd. It was like they all waited for the music to breath for them.
The noise made me wiggle in my seat. The sound reminded me of my homeland. like I was in the middle of the meadows picking flowers with my mum. The way the orchestra makes me feel… irreplaceable.
I regret giving up piano when I was in fourth grade. At the time, I was too lazy and discouraged I wasn’t emerging as a prodigy to continue it. Testament to my current work ethic. I can’t follow things through unless I know I can achieve what I want quickly and easily.
The sweeping, plummeting, moving, cascading fanfares sounded in her head to deafen the noise of the real world. The soft, spirited melodies and the dramatic, quieted moments swept her away from her trivial concerns and into a life where nothing mattered except the bow in her hand and the sound of the strings. The vibrations themselves seemed to exist as their own life force, their own energy, their very own being.
orchestra is a hard word to spell, i just spelled it wrong 3 times. orchestra reminds me of 3rd grade when i played the violin and i hated it but my friend made me keep playing so she wouldn’t be by herself and her violin
An orchestra is playing the background. Even after leaving the room, its loud noise permeates my ears. The noise is growing, increasing,
An orchestra is playing the background. Its the Philadelphia orchestra. An orchestra has a conductor. The people in th
orchestra reminds me of night. it reminds me of crickets and night butterlies buzzing to lanterns. it reminds me of frogs and warm weather and a treasured breeze. orchestra is nature – everything for once working in a weird sort of harmony… the orchestra of night.
now i have added myself time!!
imagine a scene like this – you’re forced to go outside (to deliver a letter, to your neighbor… about a half mile through some woods) and there’s a little stream you have to cross. it’s glowing an icicle’s blue.
and you see a man! a shadow, a sillouhette, and he’s playing the violin, bent over like a spider. and in his orchestra is all the previously described sounds.
hitting high and sour notes
orchestra reminds me of night. it reminds me of crickets and night butterlies buzzing to lanterns. it reminds me of frogs and warm weather and a treasured breeze. orchestra is nature – everything for once working in a weird sort of harmony… the orchestra of night.
“The best seats in the house,” my husband announced. “Just for you, because I love you.” And he does. He would not have bought tickets for himself to the Lion King, but he knew I wanted to go.
The strings collected along with the sounds of a subtle cello and stern bass. He loved going to these concerts, but he hated the way the seats were tattered and his elbow poked an elderly woman beside him. Being in the crowd, surrounded by beautiful music, he could forget for a few important moments that he was lonely and couldn’t afford the things he needed or wanted.
The live music from the group of people. The swell of sounds over layering one another in a united symphony. The beautiful gleams of the metal instruments from the team were shining as lovely, graceful music flowed from each of them to dance with one another in a synchronized timing of sound.
The orchestra was blaring loudly as she stepped into the ballroom. the song was lovely and peaceful, but to her it sounded different; it matched her mood: rage. he was waiting for her in the center of the dance floor, a look plastered to his face that she could not identify. he held his hand out for her to take; everyone was watching. his lips were a firm, hard line. she fit hers to match. then she grasped his hand and they began to dance. it was the best she had ever waltzed. and she hated every moment of it.
As they drew the bows across the strings, my heart leapt for joy within me. Tonight, my soul would take flight on a journey of musical airs. How I love the deep resounding drums, the tinny brass, the trebliing woodwinds.
A combination of all the instruments that produce heavenly sounds. Yanni has been an inspiration for me when it comes to orchestra. Although sometimes, listing to an orchestra’s boring…
it erupted like a wave unleashed from the belly of the ocean, quarter notes flowing over my head, treble clefs pregnant with melody floating, disturbing the atmospheric solemnity with the song clamoring to be born.
I’ve always thought that orchestras were only for old people. Sitting there, listening to you describing Mozart and Beethoven and how there were the first to shred, using the cellos and violins, showed me that anyone, even the youngest of delinquents can enjoy all music. I want to see an orchestra now more than anything else.
This whole crazy year is being played out in parts that somehow all make sense together, but I only feel them one by one. All together, it will all work out, even if it seems like only a beautiful mess now.
An orchestra. Am emotion. Of the heart. I mean to say I love you dear. I really do. And I’ll always sing my tune to you.
Orchestrate orchestras for ornamental orgasm.
The instruments noises streamed into the air and danced into a lovely configuration of a calm and loving melody.
The orchestra orchestrated a beautiful orchestra performed by the orchestra at the orchestra
music to my ears.
the sounds as they flew off the walls and the ceiling I felt like I’d never heard something so clearly so truly real so loud it was like all the instruments were playing for me and at me telling me something whispering “this isn’t just an orchestra this is your life”
Sweetness in an evening, that we all but forget to visit. Think of the people, who play for us all. Who learn and pour their soul into a song, together making a sound, above our own, that captures our soul if we listen properly. I think i will buy tickets.