Piano Broken

 

~ Piano Broken ~

 

 

Across the keys,

The languid hands cascaded,

Their long, pearl-white fingers,

Falling over the musical gardenias,

Of flowers, and all-surpassing-

Beauty,

As though they were . . .

Waterfalls, that were nourishing,

Cloying in the deepest undertones,

And beseeching with painful need,

Manipulating, begging cruel, and never pining, never ceasing-

 

Their ethereal waterfall of life . . .

Cresting in waves,

Over the music-

Which was responding to their efforts,

The raw need of one who-

Tries a multitude of tactics,

To secure a lover,

Because the heart,

Is broken without music-

Despite the way the fingers trickle,

As though to sprinkle,

A broken piano

With its talents . . .

The silence, must sound beautiful,

To this particular player,

Who seeks out its love,

With tears that are,

As quiet as his notes of music . . .  

Reviews

[Alexi DiMara]

Quite a beautiful expression of sound in your poem. I am intrigued by your mention of silence, it brings to mind the fragile balance between sound and silence in the best of works, both literary and otherwise. Fantastic.

[Androglossia]

Because the heart,
Is broken without music

True that. A musician paints picture in silence. Like any other artists, to them music is life. And what is a piano without someone to play it? This is a very intelligent write.

[Foxemerald]

Thank you for your dignified comment. Painting a silent picture is yet another intelligent way of putting this piece, one which I hadn't considered- you shed another light upon the poem for me, and I do appreciate your support so much =)

[Androglossia]

You're very welcome! Thank you for sharing your poetry:)

[Foxemerald]

:)