My Piano

Our story bleeds on the rocks

And drips in recognition of fragility.

It is magnificent how life

Still exhibits all the wounded angles

Of its embattled surfaces,

How the jagged edges live

Within and without.

My piano can point out

All my flaws in one note,

And I bleed again

Even on the velvet.

Reviews

[Omar Fendri]

The very last lines are always the icing on the cake in your poetry. Something I really appreciate. I could somehow taste the pain in these words. "Fragility, wound, jagged edges" Using words that give barely the same vision of the "THING" is, in the same time, plain and clever for it gives the reader the chance to relate to the poem itself. I adore how it started, as telling the story that drips "in recognition of fragility".

[Holly McClain]

I like how you framed the poem with these images:

"Our story bleeds on the rocks"

"And I bleed again
Even on the velvet."

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

Longing...that is what I see...the piano is a metaphor, because only an instrument can point out our flaws in such an "off key" way. Then again, we are all instruments in this life; throwing out our songs and hoping to hear them echoed back in the perfect key--that is when you know you have found it...

[Nihad Dweidary]

I don't understand why you understand me we well. The last few poems are about a female I never even met in person. My story with her drives my words. I don't know. I think I have gone mad. lol

[Girl Friday (Sarah W.)]

You haven't gone mad...because if you've gone mad that means I've gone mad as well, and I refuse to accept that...haha

In words you played the music here so well, from high to low, and it was as if I could hear you play.
Very beautifully crafted, this little piece of empathy, and emotion.

- Elisa