breaking into song

Darkness

April 19, 2019 by Angelico Nguyen at 3:00 am

From the Dominican Office of Tenebrae (‘Darkness’) for Good Friday, A.D. 2009, at Blackfriars, Oxford.

The text for this portion of the service is the Benedictus, or Canticle of Zechariah. Though this canticle, comprising Luke 1:68-79, is part of the Church’s morning prayer every day of the year (at the hour of Lauds), it has a special resonance on these days.

Because of the compassionate kindness of our God,
the dawn from on high shall break upon us

To shine on those who sit in darkness and the shadow of death,
to guide our feet in the way of peace.

Leave a Comment Filed Under: breaking into song, cut and paste, Death, for self-examination, God, the God problem, the problem of pain, YouTubular Tagged With: art of darkness, blogging during the Divine Office, Dominicana, Good Friday, Holy Week, Triduum

Love Song to Coffee

January 20, 2019 by Rufus McCain at 1:06 pm

Leave a Comment Filed Under: breaking into song, Dylanesque music bits, Earth, food and/or drink

What child is this

December 25, 2018 by Rufus McCain at 2:03 am

2 Comments Filed Under: breaking into song, Earth, God

Let Me Fly

December 17, 2018 by Rufus McCain at 10:40 pm

2 Comments Filed Under: backward glances, breaking into song, Earth, Heaven, skateboarding, YouTubular Tagged With: house of birds

This Letter to You

October 6, 2018 by Rufus McCain at 11:10 pm

10 Comments Filed Under: breaking into song, Dylanesque music bits, Earth, for self-examination, Life, me, you

The Secret of Phantom Lake

August 4, 2018 by Quin Finnegan at 2:06 pm

(To the tune Identikit, by Radiohead)

Our country club was one tennis court
in the middle of a marsh,

and a large, rectangular pool

doubling a small, moon-shaped lake,
whose surface was always as black

as cannonballs stacked in the sun.

The girl was saved from drowning
in the deep end under the diving boards,

as I ran back and forth along the edge,

dripping dry, nothing to assuage
my guilt choking on action

even as it tried to swallow inaction.

Anger, that dispels all phantoms
and then creates more of its own.

To have a will as clear as water
without urine and chlorine.

Next morning, steam rose from the lake,

—pieces of a ragdoll mankind,
that we can create, that we can create—

as witnessed by reeds and cattails.

4 Comments Filed Under: backward glances, bloggerel verse, breaking into song, Death, Diversion, finnegan

Dreams

January 16, 2018 by Broderick Barker at 12:21 pm

It is, of course, common internet knowledge that bitches love mixtapes.

But dudes like mixtapes too. I know, because The Wife made one for me early on in the whole “she loves me/she loves me not” stage of things. Side A was titled “From love’s first fever…”; Side B, “…to her flame.” (A nice tweak on Dylan Thomas.) First song on Side B was “Dreams” by The Cranberries. (This was before it got used in every film trailer ever.) It was enough to give a young swain hope that he was not a swain in vain.

Anyway, it’s part of our history, and I was sad to hear of lead singer Dolores O’Riordan’s death.

2 Comments Filed Under: breaking into song, Death, wine and/or women and/or song, YouTubular

Does Anything Rhyme with “Nobel”?

June 6, 2017 by JOB at 9:19 am

When I first received this Nobel Prize for Literature, I got to wondering exactly how my songs related to literature. I wanted to reflect on it and see where the connection was. I’m going to try to articulate that to you. And most likely it will go in a roundabout way, but I hope what I say will be worthwhile and purposeful.

10 Comments Filed Under: bookish, breaking into song, Dylanesque non-musical bits, JOB, JOB's poetry

Happy Feast of Saint Rita

May 22, 2017 by Broderick Barker at 10:50 am

Here’s a little bit from the oratorio I helped with, performed last year in Dallas.

CHORUS
Good Friday. Day of evil deeds
The lamb is slaughtered, pierced and hung
The heavenly choir stills its tongue
And weeps as the Almighty bleeds

Now love reveals its awful cost
And silence meets the anguished cry
I am abandoned, Father, why?
Now God is hid, now man is lost

TOMAS
I woke last night to nothing
No light or sound had stirred me
Nor lover’s touch, I was alone
Nothing woke me, as I said
And nothing found me when I woke
Nothing waited for my waking
Just as nothing waits upon my dying
But death – now death is something
The only certain thing in life
And only pain can hope to match
Its claim of universal reach
Do I sound glib? It’s how I cope
For nothing fills the hole that God has left.
And what is to be done? Why, nothing.