Night at the Museum...

And as I listened...

Tones, textures, treasure of time

Passions bold, lyrical and gracefully divine

Sounding brush strokes of the perceived

Color, form, in expressions conceived

Drama, musical portraits in soulful splendor

To the artistry of ALL in sweet surrender

Breath, heart and light, this beckoning to heed

The music, colors pulsing, 'tis the Creator's creed

Hear I the canvas in tones of passion and reflection

Touching all sensibilities in sounding perfection.

Rose Marie Raccioppi

Poet Laureate

Orangetown, New York

Markers

Seasons, moons, measures of time
Markers to define moments mine
Mountain, valley and soaring plain
Vistas of purpose I to proclaim
Ascension, the soul's spirit and questing plight
To be free and embraced by God's knowing light
The snow a gossamer veil and blanket to be
Quiet is its touch gentle upon me
A calling silence I hear with each step I take
As I look behind 'tis my path in snow I make
Rippling waves of wind, untempered, untamed
From a direction it is so named
Wild and possessing these winds that enfold
It is the story of the West Wind that is here told
Seasons, moons, measures of time
Markers to define moments mine.

Rose Marie Raccioppi

As I listen to Debussy, Preludes, Book 1

Les Collines d'Anacapri
The Hills of Anacapri
Des pas sur la neige
Footprints in the Snow
Ce qu'a vu le vent d'Ouest
What the West Wind Saw


Snow Storm: Hannibal and His Army Crossing the Alps, 1812, oil on canvas, Joseph Mallord William Turner, British, 1775–1851