Tuesday, May 01, 2007
someone make a blogskin out of this!
The piano sits before me in formal attire
A black and white tux suits its purpose
Waiting for me to press its keys
And stir the guttural emotions it longs for
It waits for me, as it always will
And cries its own melancholy melody
That it created solely for me
As its mascara runs down white keys
I hear it sigh in relief from my touch
As I glide my hand through the dust
How long I have neglected it
Its rusty hope creaks when I sit
I gently lay my fingertips on ivory faces
And it waits in baited breath
Until I gently pat the lid and whisper
“Not today”
I knew a piano once that made me smile,
That conforted silence and silenced my thoughts,
Bought movement to my fingers,
An ivory caress that lingered a while.
I was mostly alone but often complemented.
Am I better than I was? The hours of practice
seem to move me further away.
Cursed to travel slower.
The shiny, new, plastic grands that I always
dreamed of are inhospitable.
Uncarpeted and cold.
Snarling at my mistakes,
Feeding my nerves,
Making my friends cry.
It was not the piano's fault, it was mine.
Get over it.
There were times when the piano was the
only strength you had.
Now it's making you weak.
But you can't quit, you need your fix.
Keep going, you must improve a bit.
Find a scientist, ignorant to music.
Or a child! They know nothing.
Then you might impress the easily impressed.
Will that make you happier?
Now that you've experienced this?
Wait and see. There's a chance.
You see a piano.
You hit a key and out comes a note.
A paper full of wild symbols and words
Without any real meaning.
I see that piano.
But not how you do.
I see that paper full of wild symbols and words.
But not how you do.
I see that piano
That piano is the extension of my soul
Staring into this sea of black notes and white keys
White paper and black keys
My heart pours itself into these moving melodies.
And still i keep playing...
If my eyes are the window to my soul,
Then this piano i see
This piano is my soul's voice,
Singing, shouting, screaming.
Can you hear it?
Through the consonant tones,
Through the heavy chords
In these impromptus, and sonatas
These Preludes and marzukas.
And still i keep playing...
You hear these pieces
Dripping with emotion,
Blood, sweat, and tears.
Beauty, stress, and anger.
Can you hear it?
Does it move you?
Do you feel it?
Can you feel it?
You thought that this was just an instrument of music,
But its truly an instrument of my emotion..
Anger, Sadness, Love, My Failures, My Hopes, My Dreams...
You may not hear what i hear,
or feel what i feel...
But that doesn't matter...
Just understand that this is emotion and music, human thought and human creation..
Together as one..
And still i'll keep playing.
Your fingers rolled gracefully over the black and white
Smoothing back the ruffled notes
And caressing each key with a curled
Precious fingertip.
My ears swam in the sounds
Echoing from the glossy darkness
and turning into a thousand colors
That lit the room.
Eyelashes bent down
Chocolate eyes staring off into nothing
As the milky white keys
Obeyed your every command.
Slowly your lids began to close
As I lay by your feet
Feeling the ocean of perfect chords
Pick me up with their waves
And float me out farther away from Earth.
Soft sand made of silky pitches ran under my fingers
And gentle rolls of soft tune swirled my hair
As slowly your lips curved up and I could see the notes
On your cherry lips.
You licked them away
And they carried up through the ceiling.
Gently you swayed
Leaning closer to the string of black and white
As if you could sink into it and disappear inside your world
Of music.
As the last note died gently and
Fell softly to the ground
You turned the pages of sheet music inside of your head
Closed your eyes once more
And took me sailing again.
all from deviantart.
they have great stuff there.
gorgeous abstracts. (:
i will play la campanella one day.
one day, i shall.