TRAGIC Poem: The Music of War, by Louis Barclay

Drums always constantly underlie.
Creating tension building high,
Never ceasing for a second.
Centre stage all seven planets:

They stop and start and stop again, repeating.
Steady, soothing sounds slowly buliding;
Grandeur forged on the back of brass
Trumpets summoning the climax en masse

Tension steered and subjugated
By a single ostinato
Slowly expanding, landing the movement.
Triplet doublet Five Four
On edge, –
forever wanting more.

Strings in a golden triangle strummed
Creating a soft silky-smooth like sound.
Always staying in the background.
Brass, burst fanfares: a stream of bars fly.

The scramble to notes bows flying.
Bassoons with Cellos make bass.
The basis to all piece and pace.
Drums hammering home the order.
March —

The audience clap and confirm
They rise, conductor stick in hand she turns,
The first of Holst’s planets.
Mars, the bringer of war