Sunday, February 7, 2016

Letters to Zoey at the Midtown International Theatre Festival - Spring 2016


Tickets are $20
Three Shows:
Wednesday March 23 6 PM
Friday March 25 8 PM
Sunday March 27 2 PM

312 W. 36th Street
New York, NY







Wednesday, January 13, 2016

Christmas Tree Song at New Year



Yesterday I was everything.

They found me in a dark stand and circled around me with cheers.

They brushed the shivering snow from my verdant fir and stood me up in their home.

They adorned me with ornaments and strung lights from my outstretched limbs.

They set presents before me, gifts wrapped in beautiful paper, tied with velvet ribbons and knotted in glorious bows.

They crowned me with a sparkling star and gathered around me with mirth and merriment.

Then one morning they rushed up to me and tore the presents open and turned away with all their attention devoted to what had been concealed inside.

Then, with the gathered wrapping and packaging, they tossed me outside.

Yesterday I was everything.

Now I am nothing.



Garrett Buhl Robinson
© 1/12/16

Thursday, November 19, 2015

Business Plan

Lately, I have been trying to be practical.  I have concentrated my attention on the business aspects of my artist endeavors.  I even began composing a business plan this week.  

For a break though, I composed a little poem.  The opening quatrain makes an allusion to a famous statement made by George Balanchine - "I don't create.  Only God creates.  I simply arrange."  Forgive me Mr. Balanchine if that is not verbatim.  

I like to think there is music in everything.  


Business Plan

Music is not a thing, it is a way;
the universe is entirely complete,
a perpetual motion machine,
the novelty is how it is arranged.

The ideas arise in everyone's minds
and they arise quickly and are as quickly gone
and with what we do, consider how it is done,
and how the multitude of ideas harmonize.

Between the margins of losses and gains
for any enterprise to be sustained
the primary concern is the way we engage
and success is defined in the manner of exchange.

So take note of the score on this page
and as much as what, consider how I say,
the melodic arrangement of language
is the musical way I communicate.

And when you try to balance the means to the end
keep in mind the way we comprehend
so what we accomplish is what we intend,
for the greatest benefit - the means are the end.



poem composed before noon, 11/19/15
in The Cartography Room, NYPL
Garrett Buhl Robinson

Saturday, November 14, 2015

Vive la France

My heart is broken for Paris,
my heart is broken for France,
my heart is broken for Humanity.

La Mer

for Prof. Claudine Armand

Receding inside the room of my mind
where I open my eyes into a place
I have never been, through the window's light
I look out on the sea from Saint-Nazaire.

Listening to the music play
on the radio's crackling frequency
I let my mind drift out upon the waves
in a vessel composed from a symphony.

Winds blow the foam from the crests of the waves
that rise like mountains then suddenly drop
plunging down slopes of crescendos' staves
with strings bowing into darkening troughs.  

On the swirling sea beneath the roiling clouds
my eyes stay fixed on the horizon's line
narrowing to a point on the stalwart prow
where the gathered sea meets the open sky.

And even on oblivion's cold void,
a single speck on the immensity,
there are endless bridges of harmonic chords
in the spanning beauty of Debussy.  

Garrett Buhl Robinson
11-13-15

Wednesday, September 2, 2015

A Compassionate Song

As I have mentioned before, for the past eight months or more, I have concentrated all my attention on the upcoming performance of my musical. From this, I had to divert my thoughts from my devotion to composing poetry. Occasionally though, I am brushed by the wings of the muses and immediately my attention turns toward the swift flight that lifts my thoughts into the bright, soaring heights where the music resides.

The other day, this occurred through one of my correspondences. I received an email from a friend and I was astounded at the compassion I felt in her message. The next day I responded and explained this to her. Then later that day, while I strolled through the Soho, a colorful string appeared in my thoughts and began weaving its way through my mind in the most musical ways while outlining some of the warmest images, threading together what I had felt frayed in dismay. 

Then riding the J Train back to the Jamaica Center, I composed this sonnet in my little notepad above the old brick buildings of Williamsburg on a gorgeous day.

- For Lee Christine Brownlee

Stumbling through the woods on a moonless night
among the fronds of ferns and mossy stone
I found a plume fallen long ago,
the only trace of a trackless flight.
Then with some twigs from the forest floor
still wet and green from last year's spring
and an unraveled quilt's colorful string
I wove a nest I left above the old barn's door.
Although empty when I turned away
I hoped some saddened thought would settle there
and find comfort from the frosty air
cupped inside the tender weave of strays,
then with the next day's warming light
dive into the bottomless sea of sky.

Garrett Buhl Robinson
8-30-15

Thursday, July 30, 2015

New Postcards for Musical

I decided to use a brighter image and edit the text in hopes of improving the postcards for the Musical.  
If anyone has any comments or criticisms, they would be greatly appreciated.  



Thursday, July 23, 2015

Trussville Tribune Article!

Thank you June Mathews for the wonderful article in my hometown newspaper - The Trussville Tribune!
Photo by Bob Kidd