abused instrument

the melody pauses
as i touch the keys
in a reluctant, disturbed
progress.

looking away
as i strike the sounds
searching for a deeper
meaning

straight to nowhere
the melancholy echos
across an
unsettling
silence.

the piano
pleads
and a song whispers,
"am i here?"

i fold my hands together
and look downward
with a terrified stare.



Poetry by anguisette
Read 764 times
Written on 2006-12-16 at 05:59

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Michael Dyst
hmm.. this is a great little nightmarish vision of a music making process (=not sarcasm)...

there is an eerie (I think that's the english word for it) beauty here, like out of some painting in an abandoned mansion lit up by the full moon...

I'll hold the metaphors for now....
2008-10-20


salem
nice poem
thanx
2006-12-16