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Jessica Jarvis Jun 2018
Goodbye, my dear friend, for now.
I’m gone for only a day,
But I know that you know how,
for our next minuet, I’ll await.

Goodbye, my dear ol’ Chickering,
‘Til the next time I’ll sit and then
I’ll listen to your diamond ring
Bless my ears again.

Thank you, yes you, my dear,
For offering your friendly counsel,
For lending me your patient ears
Over years and through tears as well.

Just a day, my dear, lil’ piano,
Until I’ll peer again into your musical window.
6/17/18

I realized today just how... much... I truly do love my piano. Even if I play the same, singular song over and over again, I just love to stop by the piano in my few free minutes of down time and sing and play. I often revisit the same songs just because I know how to play them while singing and do it well (or at least fairly decently in my mind) during those few short minutes. I’ve often been so overwhelmed with happiness that J’ve just wanted to play, giving me an excuse to belt the lyrics as loud as I can (lol) or play to finally release any restrained or built up stress from throughout the day. I suppose I use it to cope with many things. I suppose I use music in general for this purpose: to cope. It’s either that, or to motivate or inspire me to do something. Also, sometimes, I suppose a “Disney princess” just wants a dramatic background orchestral acccompaniment to what she does, lol... I may not have an orchestra, but I have my piano... and that’s all I need. ❤️☺️
Anshara Jun 2018
In the corner of my memory
In the corner of my room
Lies a brown piano I've spent my life with.

In the corner of my memory
I hear music being played
Magical fingers dancing upon the keys.

In their corner of my memory
I see brown hair and brown face
But jet black eyes and a musical smile

In the corner of my room
A bully I see, against lockers
Outcast locked in its room.

In the corner of my memory
I see water. I breathe water.
No painful expression, just peace.

In the corner of my memory
In the corner of my room
Lies a brown piano,
I'm now spending my existence with.
This poem too is inspired by a song in BTS's Wings album.. The song is First Love by Suga..
Listen to it.. You'll all love it..
Muhammad Usama Jun 2018
My treacherous hands,
Having fragility hold their dexterity a hostage,
On an old time-bitten Grand,
Sitting in dust,out of tune,
Play the nocturne of my hopeless night.

And one grief,
Your grief
(Summoning all its cousins,commanding
The weak sinews of my tender hands,
To play the requiem to my long un-granted wish)
Still speaks and prays and cries inside me,
As if it were blind to the wilderness deep within.

I am not but forced to question myself.
Should I still warm the strings of this mellow pianoforte,
With the constant rush of unsettling emotions for you,
Or should I just fade into an uneasy silence,
Deeming my emotions mundane,
And die a pitiable death?
Kaitlyn Jun 2018
My fingers traipse across the black, white keys.
The golden sounds are dreams that I can hear.
I long for quiet moments such as these
when sweet melodies melt into my ear.

The chime of bells are gliding through the air
and symphonies are seeping through my veins.
They sway and twirl and whisper like a prayer.
I take a breath and play through what remains.

But then the music thunders loud and shrill.
The sharps are choppy like the restless waves
of  storm gray waters drowning out the still.
The notes then rise and fall back to their graves.

The music stutters and stops short the song.
I pick a new tune that moves right along.
Kewayne Wadley May 2018
And when I dream of you.
The pages turn.
Highlighting a million and one things.
All captivated by the sound we touched with our eyes.
Each played in beautiful melody.
I'd chase behind you.
Playing a symphony each time you'd smile.
Between the pause we were soft.
Supple.
Forgetting which one of us was sleeping.
Revealing all of our secrets.
You taught me how to sing.
Forgetting to move my mouth.
Each emotion thrown from my stomach.
When I dream of you,
I see all the colors.
So vividly played in beautiful color
my raspy
voice is
euphoria but
revere sole
of she
that rejoice
with spontaneity
and invariably
my unrehearsed
vocal is
flutelike always
depict its
comp as
discretion with
a valet
in Wodehouse
novels indirect
A song with soul
Lyda M Sourne May 2018
and your music was the sweetest
to my ears and to my heart

but your soul was the darkest
when people drift apart

minds spiralling down to madness
like an eternal roundabout

and maybe in the end
that's who we really are

people with minds unbound
spoken in the language of
music over black and white notes
as someone who love(d) you, I might not have gone. But as someone who plays music as well, I did. and what a job well done. what beautiful music. you were wonderful. and I'm sorry I will have to write this here instead of saying it to you up front.
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