Piano Keys

 

Piano Keys ~

 

Softly, silver entwined-

 piano keys,

making a tinkle sound that whisks,

silently across the page in soft cadence,

taking to my heart into their deep message,

carrying me to a measured lust,

a beauty, one that could never be seen,

before it was uncovered,

by the unlikely notes which coursed,

across my iced-up chest, like skates-

encouraging me with their cresting flow,

imagined lines that glide down and up,

rising and falling with a pillowed-storm,

one that is my breath,

one which is no longer harsh,

softened by the nourishing love that speaks to-

the beautiful rush,

quiet rise, and fall . . .

of this feeling, which has taken over my chest,

that now courses through my-

entire body,

living in my being, and teaching me to-

listen to the notes,

that are my song,

a joyful, imploding sound which runs,

that flows throughout and across and over me-

these piano keys, which gently encourage me to that seat,

the piano seat that wrings my heart,

where thoughts flow infinite and deep,

to those lovely gliding notes,

skate across my chest,

as the ice warms, within my breast-

and I write,

to my own piano.

Reviews

[Androglossia]

This write reminds me of this : “Music expresses that which cannot be put into words and that which cannot remain silent” ― Victor Hugo

Sometimes we feel that a certain music can narrate the entire drama of our lives that's because we don't only hear it, we listen. I think not everyone realizes this but to those of us who can hear and grasp each note seem most to enjoy life.

[Foxemerald]

Hi Maryanne,

Thank you for your perspective on this piece, which you detailed with your typical wording. Your thoughts always provoke afterthoughts to my own entries. I especially appreciate the idea that we do not only hear music, but we listen to it, as well. I feel as though this particular study of music is especially true for the writer. Listening is very different from the ability to hear, because the former can provide new ways in which to voice our thoughts, erasing the idea of just hearing someone else put their thoughts into art. It seems as though this is a typical life concept. The artist- he or she always writes, or prints, or creates music, places their worries into abstract form- in the most intrinsic way possible, and the flow of feeling is transmitted through the work. Those that live in the creative world of inspirational musing are always the ones that create, and contrast against those who live for enjoyment. It is again the story of Yin and Yang, two opposite, attractive mediums, and the writer can often feel the notes, and transmit based upon the feel of them. They feel every single instance, every small inflection of the beauty transcribed.

It is this which separates listening from hearing, and, as you can undoubtedly tell, I practice the former. It would not surprise me in the slightest if you were also of that tendency.