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Bach

 

Brahms

 The young Johannes was a portly child

He sat on the balcony, sat in the garden, sat in his room
His mother said: Johannes, take up tennis or racquetball
Or even tae kwon do
But he sat unproductive
Unless he was at the piano where he was brilliant
Brahms went on to create many musical pieces
But none had a tempo faster than he could walk

Shostakovitch

 Shostakovitch sat at the family table about to eat

A bowl of his mother’s homemade borsht
He had not yet reached puberty
But he had many manly characteristics
A knock on the door
Always chilling for this family
Of at most lukewarm Communists
This time it was a neighbor
But it wouldn’t always be that way
Later in life, Dmitri would knock on their door
With the drum beats that
Open his Fifth Symphony
Drum beats that are fear, heartbeats and defiance

Ravel

 The young Ravel, barely 18

Frequented a small cabaret in Paris
Shy, but a good dancer
One night he spied a comely young lady
And asked her to dance
They danced all night
She called him Maury
He never saw her again
And only much later after composing
La Valse and Bolero
Did he realize that she had planted
The seeds of melodies in his head
He did keep the shoes he danced in that night
And polished them regularly to a shine

Mozart

 Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was strolling

In a Salzburg cemetery
A forest of delicate wrought iron memorials
He was whistling the overture to the Marriage of Figaro
The cemetery caretaker heard him
And copied Mozart in exact detail
That’s how music was passed along in those days
Later in life, after Mozart’s passing
The caretaker made a modest living
Whistling Mozart tunes in Salzburg pubs
He retired though when humming replaced whistling
Mozart would not be known to us today
If not for the whistlers and hummers of Salzburg

Prokovief