The following poem was submitted by Paul Berkowitz of Grand Canyon, Arizona, for publication in Mandolin Magazine, September 1997. Paul said, “My main objective in writing it was to use words and phrases that illustrate the evolution, shape, and sounds of the modern mandolin.” A mandolin player and enthusiast, he is a special agent for the National Park Service, Chief of Law Enforcement Services, Grand Canyon.
Tuned in fifths, eight voices blend;
four pair, each played as one.
Two hands take hold, it comes alive;
the magic has begun.
Never-mind “the text of time;”
Transform and re-invent.
Acoustic metamorphosis
has shaped this instrument.
This young descendent bares resplendent
carved, curvaceous form.
The dream conceived was thus achieved
when Loar’s F-5 was born.
Rare tonewoods rich with resonance,
from timbers stripped of skin.
Seasoned slowly, time ensures
the bark remains within.
Figured maple; flames imbue
the back, the neck, and sides.
A fretted floor of ebony
where fingers dance and glide.
Entrance. Seduce. A face of spruce
contoured to tantalize.
Behold, Rejoice, the blooming voice
that speaks through F-hole eyes.
Bars and braces shaved in places
only luthiers know.
Back and soundboard tuned to pitch
allows each note to glow.
Whirling, curling, graceful swirling
scrolls of Florentine.
They spiral ’round and shape the sound;
form sights and sounds serene.
Arching. Swelling. Sounds compelling,
aging well, like wine.
Tones maroon, like burgundy, grow rich
and full with time.
The plectrum strikes on phosphor-bronze
igniting sunburst sounds.
Hues deep and dark reflect the spark that
echoes past sundown.
Chop the strings; the soundbox rings and
shakes the atmosphere.
The chamber swells as waves propel the
rhythm to our ears.
Brittle wooden, crystal wooden, tones of
wooden bells.
Ringing, breathing voice of wood that
sings as it exhales.
Tuned in fifths, eight voices blend;
four pair at once begin
A dance around the melody
to the song of the Mandolin.