Music poems. Bach poems
The waves from the tree tops, sea.
The plural form of clearing must be lights.
Winged words: Face to face with sound thoughts
Round world is tired No end of death A wound yet headless Full virus
But you are heavenAnn-Helena Schlüter 2021
Her poems and poetry are written during concert tours and are musical bridge builders. Her poetry broadens the senses, all emotions and the mirror of the soul. Her poetry is rhythm, without noise, without lavishness; it is cadence. Like Bach’s Kunst der Fuge (art of the fugue), her art of language is handicraft, discovery, resonance and vocabulary.
‚I write my poetry in connection to music, mentally, at the grand piano, in train or at the organ. My poems are about life, love, god, yearning, society and politics. In my texts, I mostly compare life from the view of an instrument or the sound, the melody or the music, as an allegory to life. For me, poetry is like a speaking, hailing person.’ (Ann-Helena in: Der Sonntag, Sachsen)
‚Due to my intensive education as a musician and concert pianist (and since I grew up in a family of musicians), my language and my imagination are intensive, which also comprises my paintings, symbols and rhythms: yearning, symbolism, puns, ambivalence, hope, beauty, facts. I compose and paint, for me, all flows into poems and the art of poetry, music is deepest poetry. I write poems since I was eight years old.’
‚My poems, texts, songs, song lyrics and compositions are separated from each other but yet one, a unity.
At my concerts, I play my own compositions and read from my novels and poetry volumes. Since I add my songs and compositions to the classical music on my concert programme, also young people come to my concerts – who, in most cases, are surprised how wonderful Bach and Chopin sound, which they would have never thought before.
I love to combine the musical styles so that young people also have the opportunity to experience and appreciate classical music and literature.
I speak German, English and Swedish fluently and I write my songs and lyrics in all three languages whereby melody and lyrics flow out of my imagination at the same time.’
‚German texts are particularly important to me, they should be poetic and deep and yet touch people and appeal to them. I have all diploma in classical piano one can get at German and international conservatories and play 60-100 concerts per year.
‚My songs and compositions in various styles, in new music, but also in the border region of film music, solo concert and improvisation, help me to hear afresh, without prejudices, with astonishment and surprise.’
“Mit demselben Zeichen ein Herz setzen, keine Launenden mehr sein.aus: Keine Wolke fällt tiefer als blau, opus 3
Der Nachtschwan so anders als der weiße am Tag.”
Einheit in Dreiklang.
Lyrik, Musik, Kunst
Sound of While
Beautiful sound of while, permanent; one wave of sound, too: arising from wreckage; Heard the groans of blind people, deaf people, ongoing sound.
Church Tower and Heaven
Noisy daily life gone
Which is no more all of that
Sings to tiltmouse, sparrow, eagle What it once was.
Sings to bell
Head manoeuvres Trains at the head station
Attitude and exposition The only important one is not standing there
Where I have no soft average
Hair falls down
Drive of thoughts
Upwards because bun there the blonde point
The loudly cracking cough sweet Of fed amateurs makes the rondo hungry
‚It is so rare and beautiful how Ann-Helena Schlüter performs art in such a holistic way– between grand piano, quill and poetry, between playing concerts and declarations, whereby the between is not really a separation but a junction.’Prof. Dr. Peter Lampe, Universität Heidelberg
Music is dreaming
A star lies in the wind
God the great creative
still beautiful in his withering
the flying gross root,
all that art needs
source becomes seed
trinity of fermata
The weaving of the melody is like a smoke candle
Grown into the heart Washing up the pedal point in waves The smallest question reached by her
The hands are the shore
Capturing home Every time anew Flood of notes
In the night it sings noise And suddenly becomes silent. A long question In the early morning
Daily life stands and waits Is not a usual one Gives Beings
Hope wears a skirt Never flies away.
A golden tongue of sound falls into cracked earth, deprived of water for long.
Deeply licked by moist clay, what are you burning, wet terce?
Black before the pupil the brightness in the horizon pokes fire in the cloud and becomes triplet day a glimmering return in the air.
Sometimes I feel like a box of noise
And the moon with veins.
Talking like tender shots through the tiny fist at the piano
Exhaling through the fingers into chest and gut.
The shadow of the grand piano scratches
At the floor
Varnished ballerina and stands again on point on the little wheels
Wie auf Beutejagd, wenn ich Bach spiele.
Sammle Noten wie Frösche.
Küsse ich die Notenfrösche,
wird mehr als einer ein Prinz.
aus: Flügel auf Reisen, Fontis Verlag