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nuanced at night Jul 2020
play me like a violin

lure my music out

the music you’ve so carefully hidden in my core

touch me gingerly

summon what you once put deep within

so many eons ago

free me from this trap

this tangled web of broken strings

that suffocates even my strongest breaths
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
[To Mary C.]
I've met again a violin and a piano in a cooperative anguish of a story.
To reminisce
(Or is it "recall"? "Reminisce" is only laced with joy)
Your love for that black and white ministry of music that I believe there is
And taste it together with notes of those honey strings before which I shiver delightfully instead
Make and made a prompt haste and nostalgic astrae longed to be left by a human's bed.
Just to let you know and sense,
I'm having and feeling you too on my thoughts and oh so unspoken words of laced understatements,
Right on that Rainy Song dúo.
I'm sure you're sleeping tight.
But no harm done.
It's better this way. Not binding you to your face, calling you without name or reason.
Really, hope my act doesn't creep or leave out, it's form and prolonging chaotic and loud
It is that "God-like" state who makes me a mute lovesick fool,  a wannabe paramour to any of your kin, who wants to pepper kisses on each tear and stare in each other's eyes for hours with no matter bespoken.
I'll leave simply my note at the table,
Like one leaving the other in the bed before dawn.
No "I'll stay" nor "I'm leaving",
Tinted with tenerezza cazza.
No explaining, the void necessary for the sense of reason and authenticity bigger than the material the literal.
Don't get up, don't bother, sleep tight, don't rise.
Just be aware you were on my mind, may that make you rise.
Experience ya later, not see ya later,
In salty waters our stars I now fight to see in the dark at that signs of the clock without glasses on.
I wish to finally dispose of needs of my vessel for at least those few holy moments clad in ombré.
Have the dearest night,
Goodbye.
~
PS Don't look for sense, don't name it or trap it, just let it experience you, kiss you and have it. Dismantle, dismantle the logic together before it becomes a sicario forever.
Eyelids closing and ending
Written on an inky night of coming undone at a tender, astral session of mine whilst listening to Tomoya Naka’s “Rainy Song”.
For my aforementioned friend of mind, a closed-off lover of piano and music, we came both at once in that song, without her knowing.
And I bore this, transcribed in words from wondrous void
Je te remercie, Marie.
De novo boa noite
Isabella Howard Jun 2020
An old church at the end of the road
Sunflowers spill over the altar
For children grown old.

Alone in the pews
I watch light suffused
Through stained glass windows.

When I was young
And it was my turn
They gave us roses
Told us they still have thorns
Because life would hurt us
When we found it.

Most of us did.

Including me.

Most of us left those four walls.

Most of us moved far away.

Most of us never returned.

Except for me.

The dusty hymnals smell like youth.
The empty sanctuary looks like home.
And I can still see myself by the piano
The sound of my violin
Was bigger than the world.

When it's all over

I step outside and feel the cold.

I was so young.

And now I'm afraid.

I'm getting so old.

I don't know anyone
Filing out the door.
Nobody knows me.

I walk to the B&B.
I ask for a room.
I used to play there so often
They always let me stay for free.


The clerk says it's switched hands
A dozen times or more.
They say the chandelier
Hasn't heard a song in years.

I unpack my suitcase upstairs
And can't help but shed a few tears

For a town
That truly
Forgot
Me.
-elixir- May 2020
The rose petals fall,
like snowflakes
as they twirl,
to the strings of
the violin.

The two souls twirl,
as their hearts beat,
in unison, tenderly
as they endear each other
deep into their eyes.

Their sacred relish,
dots the future,
welcomes the future.
Filling their lives,
as they dance to the end,
of bliss.
Ephemeral Apr 2020
Violin in my ribs
Guitar in my heart
Drums in my mind
Yet all out of sync
Guess I need a perfect conductor
But who will be brave enough
To tame such a disordered body?
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
After My Death
by Chaim Nachman Bialik
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Say this when you eulogize me:
Here was a man — now, ****, he's gone!
He died before his time.
The music of his life suddenly ground to a halt...
Such a pity! There was another song in him, somewhere,
but now it's been lost,
forever.
What a pity! He had a violin,
a living, eloquent soul
to which he uttered
the secrets of his heart,
setting its strings vibrating,
save the one he kept inviolate.
Back and forth his supple fingers twirled;
one string alone remained mesmerized,
yet unheard.
Such a pity!
All his life the string quivered,
quavering silently,
yearning for its song, its mate,
as a heart falters before its departure.
Despite constant delays it waited daily,
mutely beseeching its savior, Love,
who lingered, loitered, tarried incessantly
and never came.
Great was the pain!
There was a man — now, ****, he's gone!
The music of his life was suddenly interrupted.
There was another song in him, somewhere,
but now it is lost
forever.

Chaim Nachman Bialik (1873-1934), first name also Hayim or Haim, was a Jewish Holocaust poet who wrote in Hebrew. Bialik was one of the pioneers of modern Hebrew poetry; he came to be recognized as Israel's national poet and the foremost modern Hebrew poet.

Keywords/Tags: Chaim Nachman Bialik, Hebrew, translation, Israel, life, music, violin, song, string, strings, heart, mate, love, pain, lost, forever
Riz Mack Mar 2020
-
the tempest rages
a storm is all it can be
nature is absolved
if you're not wholly yourself, you're only half something else
Lyda M Sourne Jan 2020
Just this short moment
A little moment to yourself

Look at the sky for a moment
A pause in the humdrum of life

And just take a little moment
Like the quarter rest on hold

Cool down the thrumming heart
Relax those tense shoulders

Add a little honey
To the sourness of the situation

As life gives you lemons,
Make lemonade
I feel overwhelmed by everything
james Dec 2019
my mind crescendos
until the violin strings
are screaming more than they sing
and i cant hear my heart beat
over the sound.
when the world is too loud,
i will grow louder
until my bow snaps, and death drowns me out
100% in my top favorite poems of mine
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