The Ivory Piano

Thought of something while playing my keyboard =]

 

Her long, smooth fingers gently caressed the engravings on the ivory wood.

She traced her fingertips over ebony keys and smiled.

 

She remembered how her father had an ivory piano made for her bedroom, placed right next to the window.

She remembered how her father would sit by her till moonlight would spill over the dark wood, teaching her various chords.

He would make her practice and practice. Every note, he would make sure she perfected. Every octave, he would make her play over and over again.

Day and night, for hours she used to play intricate, complex pieces composed by Chopin, Debussy, and Beethoven.

She used to play when the sun would shine, and children her age would play outside.

 

Rachmaninov`s 3rd Piano Concerto

 

She used to play when the snow would fall and Christmas carols would fill the air.

 

Gaspard de la Nuit

 

She used to play till her fingers would bruise and her wrist go sore.

 

Busoni and Ligeti concerti

 

“You need to play with more force!” He would say, “More emotions. More!”

 

Opus Clavicembalisticum

 

More. He always wanted more. It was never enough.

 “She is just a child!” Her mother would say, tears in her eyes and pleading.

But her father would firmly put the topic to rest.

“Yes, but she is my child.”

 

My child.

 

She sat on the velvet cushion and slowly propped up the key slip.

The audience fell silent and the theatre lights grew dim.

A blanched stream of light focused on her and so did 1200 pair of eyes.

She took a deep breath and settled her hand on her lap. Perfect form.

With one elegant finger, she pressed the key. Perfect position.

The sound resonated through her body, transfixing her in a state of euphoria.

Another forefinger dipped another key, building up the music.

And soon, she was lost in a composition fierce and strong.

Her fingers moved with precision defining her as a Virtuoso.

As her heart played with the symphony of the ivory piano,

Her father’s words played in her mind:

 

“The piano only makes the music. You give life to it.”

Author's Note

This piece was suppose to be a story. But since I have been facing a problem of words eluding me, I decided to make this incomplete story- a poem. Now ain't I just clever? =]
I would love to be able to play like that someday. But in the meantime, tell me what you think of it?
Thank you =]

Reviews

[MiidniightSoul]

Oh this is very beautifully written. I loved it. :) Keep up the good work ^.^

[Sush Krish]

There you go, you've given life to this piece of writing =)

[B0Beauxs]

Now I think this is a very beautiful piece- beautifully written, beautifully nostalgic.

It is a really interesting story, and you use some really good descriptions to tell it.

You are right about it feeling more like an incomplete short story, but with a few tweaks, it could be a complete poem.

I really love the utter possession the father has over his daughter- you really conveyed that feeling amazingly.



And soon, she was lost in a composition fierce and strong.
Her fingers moved with precision defining her as a Virtuoso.
As her heart played with the symphony of the ivory piano,
Her father’s words played in her mind:

“The piano only makes the music. You give life to it.”



Now those lines were so incredible to me; the last being particularly inspirational. This is why this is one of my favourite pieces on the site.

[Miss Coral]

Doesn't necessarily have to be a poem-- "flash fiction" works as well.
I loved this one! The names of the pieces added so much, as did the italicized tidbits.. great descriptions, great memories, great dialogue from her father. Amazing job!!

[Stammers]

Firstly, you need to grow a pair, as it were- so your piece hasn't got a definite beginning, middle and end; it's still a short story. The Length of a piece doesn't make it a poem; some poems can go on for dozens of pages. If you want to make it into a poem, you need to re-write with poetic focus, I think it would work either way.

Secondly, tis very, very good. But one must know this from previous comments =p. I like it's length, if you're keeping it as a story I'd go back over it as it's creator and groom and carve it so it has a balance if you like - it needs to be tailored to suit it's length now you know it's pretty much finished. Think on the power of individual words you use, as they will have a lot of prominence in a piece this short.
Also, it did have room for expansion, maybe 2-3 more paragraphs, make more of it.

Overall, brilliant piece, congrats and thanks for posting, fresh and original.

[Liverpoolfan]

An incomplete story does not mean it is a poem! It is just an imcomplete story.
Maybe you can use this elsewhere, in another piece of writing, in character development or something.
Having said this, however, I thought this was really good. And I thought it did have a complete-ness about it, because there isn't really that much more to be said.

[hannah]

You've given this piece life and a feeling of accomplishment. I think it came from the fact that you obviously know the sacrifices a pianist has to make to excel. This piece can be related to plenty of fields not only to playing the piano but simply succeeding in life as well. You have to work hard to achieve what you want and when you do, the feeling of accomplishment is almost overwhelming.

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I like the nostalgic feel of this piece. Memories are certainly a great part of my own instrument. I play guitar. If Blondie could talk, (that's my guitar) she could really tell some stories.

[The Perfectionist]

Now that's a broad definition of the word poem, or at least the most effective use of free verse that I have ever had the pleasure to read. As a pianist myself, I can appreciate the pressure the girl feels, even though I ended up making a different choice with my piano playing than she did. The ending is something that applies to every instrument, and is a lesson that every professional has well learned. I apply it to writing here; poems are only words, the author gives them life.

There is plenty of life here.

[-Insertnamehere-]

I think I just about almost cried. You, are an amazing writer. I literally found nothing wrong with this piece whatsoever. I lovedlovedloved how you had her thinking of the different memories in her head about her father while saying the names of different piano pieces, going from past to present. I'm a piano player too so I would kill to play like that as well. The way you described everything, especially in the last paragraph, was beautiful. I want to find something better than beautiful to describe your writing but apparently when I'm struck with amazement my word vocabulary shuts off.

As her heart played with the symphony of the ivory piano,

Her father's words played in her mind:



"The piano only makes the music. You give life to it."

I think I just about died and went to heaven, reading that last sentence.
Keep writing. Thank you very much for sharing your piece(: