I an the new Poetry Editor of the university's literary magazine. Every year, the magazine sponsors a poetry contest. It's a pretty big deal. Well, I have been trying to nail down a distinguished poet to judge the contest for the last few weeks. So, last night, I blind e-mailed the poet Lynn Emanuel, thinking I stood about a snowball's chance in the Gobi of getting her to be the judge.
This morning, I received a lovely response from Ms. Emanuel, accepting the responsibility. That response restored my faith in the poetic world.
And the poem I have for tonight also restores my faith in the poetic world. A wonderful sonnet from The Best American Poetry 2014.
Marty is a happy saint tonight.
Juilliard Cento Sonnet
by: Philip Dacey
Use every centimeter of the air.
That phrase needs elasticity, breathing room.
We need to hear the decoration more.
Her part has so many notes, it's almost a crime.
Tread lightly here--he's on his weakest string.
You can be perkier in the lower half of the bow.
Don't be so punctual; you're right but you're wrong.
Trios are three soloists. Soft doesn't mean slow.
Adjust your arm instead of the violin.
Attack, back off, and then attack again.
Let the sound of the chord decay before you go on.
When you have a rest, take it. You want your touch
to make the piano say, "Ah," not "Ouch."
Keep your hand rounded, as if it held a peach.
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| Thank you, Ms. Emanuel |
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