I am honoured to be the Poet of the Week for this week’s W3 Weekly Poetry Prompt #99. My prompt was to write a musical ekphrastic poem inspired by Wagner’s Liebestod from the opera Tristan Und Isolde (what was I thinking?! Lol). Please click below to view the full guidelines.
Click here to read my W3 Poetry Prompt details and guidelines.
Music Ekphrasis
I invite you to write a musical ekphrastic poem. Put your words to music.
Let the music be your muse. Paint your words on the music score of your feelings and emotions. Listen to its rhythm and pace.
The music
The music is from the last scene of Wagner’s dramatic opera where Isolde sings the Liebestod [Death of Isolde]. You can listen to it here
The opera is based on the legend of Tristan and Isolde.
It is optional to tell their story in your poem, but it is not required. Your poem may be completely abstract should you wish.
The poetry form
Choose any poetry form that you feel suits the emotion, rhythm and pace of the music and your feelings.
I wrote two poetry versions. A free verse poem, and the second is in the Waltz Wave poetry form (created by Leo Waltz). I can’t decide which one I prefer, so I’m publishing both.
The Fateful Cup
The Fateful Cup
I, Iseult, wait alone on the Cornish shore,
Where is my love?
Wherefore?
Breezes flee between my thoughts and thee,
Blowing kisses o’er frothy spume,
Blowing slowly
from the sea,
I can sense you,
somewhere…
where?
…and is there room,
for me?
My heart is stilled,
But the ocean is stirring,
Filled,
With salty scent,
Flying low,
Skimming
atop cold aching waves,
My lost lament,
Lapping
o’er the darkly fluid graves,
Ebbing,
flowing,
bellowing,
belief
In turmoil,
And joyless dance,
Rising,
stirring,
gushing,
grief,
in
Swelling,
surging,
Utterance.
~
Beneath an overwhelming
Height,
Down below the frothy swells,
The haunting
chimes of
funereal bells,
keening,
clanging out their wails.
While on the gleaming rocks,
Shipwrecks flap their wind-torn sails.
The relentless churn of renegade waves,
Betides and braves the chides of men.
For a moment,
a fading golden sun glints in a louring dreadful sky,
flickering a so long signal in pale goodbye.
My heart and soul take flight,
Soaring to the mazarine blue firmamental
moonlit night,
With Tristan
I transcend,
Along that untrodden path
Beyond the stars we wend,
Up we climb,
To sup sweet
the fateful cup,
Unto the close of time,
And greet our timeless end.
~
Lesley Scoble, March 2024
Secret drawer
I wrote the second version of The Fateful Cup as a waltz wave poem. I’ve tucked it away into my secret drawer as the poetry pattern makes it appear as long as one of Wagner’s operas. Lol. Don’t open it if reading the poem once was enough:)
The Fateful Cup
Click here to read the Waltz Waves version of my poem The Fateful Cup
I,
Iseult,
wait
on the
Cornish shore,
Where’s my
love?
Wherefore?
Breezes flee
‘twixt my thoughts and
thee; blowing
kisses
o’er
frothy
spumes, blow-
-ing slow-
-ly
from the
sea.
~
I
can sense
you,
Somewhere…
Where? … is there
room for
me?
My heart
is stilled, but
the ocean is stir-
-ring, filled with
salty
scent.
Flying,
low, skimming
atop
cold
aching
waves.
~
My
lost la-
-ment
lapping,
o’er darkly
fluid
graves.
Ebbing,
bellowing
grief—in turmoil and
joyless dance.
Rising,
gushing
relief.
in a swell-
-ing surg-
-ing
utter-
-rance.
~
Be-
-neath
an
over-
-whelming height,
down be-
-low
the froth-
-y swells
The haunting chimes
of funer-
-ereal
bells.
Keening,
clanging out
their wails.
While,
on the
rocks,
~
ghost
Shipwrecks
flap
their wind-
-torn sails.
The rel-
-ent-
-less churn
of rene-
-gade waves, betides
and braves the
chides of
men.
For one
moment, a
fading
gold-
-en sun
glints
in
a dread-
-ful
louring
sky, flicking
signals
of
so long
in pale good-
bye. My heart
and soul take
flight, soar-
-ing
Through the
Maz-
-arine
em-
pyr-
-eal
moon-
-lit night.
With
Tristan
I transcend
along
that
untrod
path we wend.
Up we climb, to
sup the sweet
fatal
cup,
unto
close of time,
and greet
our
timeless
end.
~
Lesley Scoble, March 2024
FOOTNOTE
The Waltz Wave poetry pattern created by Leo Waltz, is a single stanza poem of 19 lineswith each line having a set number of syllables. The syllabic pattern is: 1/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/3/4/3/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/1. I wrote eight stanzas for my poem (no idea if that’s allowed!).
A little bit of personal reminiscence…
THE ROYAL OPERA HOUSE, COVENT GARDEN
Tristan and Isolde
As a ballet student training at Covent Garden, London, I worked in the evenings at the Royal Opera House to pay for my dance classes. My job was as an usherette handing out programmes and ice creams in the highest gallery at the very top of the opera house. We worked shifts on different nights at a varying programme of productions. Usherettes would barter and exchange their shifts to get to see their favourite ballets (Fonteyn and Nureyev were dancing at this time). Wagner’s opera was not a popular gig, because it was long! Ballets lasted a mere couple of hours at the most). And who liked Wagner? When Nureyev was dancing?
I did. I swapped all my ballet gigs to see all six performances by Birgit Nilsson conducted by Georg Solti. I fell in love with the last scene where Isolde sings the Liebestod. At the time, I wondered if I liked it because the evening would soon be over (the opera was nearly 6 hours long) and I could go home, or if it was because I really liked it.
I can even now smell the vast stillness of the opera house when Birgit Nilsson sang. Wagner’s score of rolling wave upon wave of hundreds of violins rising to the climax…
The performance never left me unmoved or without tears falling down my face.
The hierarchy system for programme sellers in the opera house was that the ‘newbies ‘ to the job, started in the highest gallery (the amphitheatre), and worked their way down (but up in promotion) via the dress circle and into the stalls. Getting promoted meant moving down in the Opera House to the posher seats. I was there long enough to hand out programmes and ice creams in all areas. I also got to see the productions from the different priced seats. The best seat in the house for acoustics (trust me) is the centre seat in the very back row of the amphitheatre. ‘In the Gods’. Where I watched all six special, unforgettable performances.
I recommend this job to anyone who wants to see a plethora of the best operas and ballets (while being paid) for free. Free drinks in the Crush bar between intervals too (don’t tell anyone).
Mister Butterfly
Another piece of music I considered for my prompt was the music from Puccini’s opera Madame Butterfly. One evening I was at my post, by the deep red velvet curtains at the doorway into the auditorium, and a Japanese gentleman bought a programme off me. He was studying theatrical lighting and attended the performances regularly. Each time he came, he showered my programmes tray with butterflies cut out of different coloured lighting gels. I wallpapered our usherettes’ green room with dozens of the exquisite butterflies (I still treasure many of them).
I secretly called him Mr. Butterfly, and now and again, slipped him a free programme (don’t tell anyone).
Hiro became the lighting director to Disney in Tokyo, and we became lifelong friends.
~
ACKNOWLEDGEMENT
Thank you David, The Skeptics Kaddish for hosting your inspiring and motivating weekly poetry prompt.
Lesley lives in the City of London Square Mile. An artist, actor and sculptor (her first ceramic sculpture won the V&A inspired by… Award). Scenic artist & book illustrator, playwright (her musical play, Rapscallion performed in inner city schools and theatre school); TV dancer; Animator and illustrator for TV production. Set up Pinecone Studios Ltd and IIMSI Ltd drama and filmmaking workshops in London – producing award-winning films made by children.
LesleyScoble.com 
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