Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Maha May 22
when you press my keys
and pluck my strings
when you compose your song
don't ignore the drum in my chest
she's the conductor anyway.
About Me
Karly Codr Mar 28
Sure, I'm not like other girls.
I don't care about
What others think of me.
It really doesn't bother me.
Who cares if they don't like me
Because I choose to be friends
With the people that they don't like.
Just because I don't
Wear super short shorts
Or ripped skinny jeans
Doesn't mean you need to bully me
Every chance you get.
Maybe I don't play
The flute or clarinet.
Maybe those instruments
Don't like me
What do you care
If I play trombone?
Just please.
Don't bully me
All because of the things I do:
The friends I choose,
The music I listen to,
The instrument I play,
The life I lead.
Don't judge me
For who I am,
For who I want to be.
I'm different.
But that's okay,
Sometimes it's good
To stand out.
laura Sep 2019
I've never been a huge socializer,
and that's really all,
that people seem to do at football games.
So, why even go?
Well, now that I'm a member of the marching band,
it looks like I have to.
I mean, last night I never really thought that I'd have fun.
I mean, who wants to just go and scream for 3 hours?
I guess I do.
Last night was amazing.
You get to just be yourself,
and you just forget about everything.
You just realize more and more through the game,
that's it's just about having a blast and playing songs,
to keep the team going.
There we were, waving our instruments,
screaming for our team,
and having the time of our lives.
Now, I know for a fact,
that at the end of the season,
I will do anything to go back,
and do it all again...
Last night was the first varsity football game. As a first year marching member I didn't really know what to expect :)
Crown Shyness Jul 2019
They lay in cases
People get them out
And start to play

They're used to make such a beautiful melody

I don't like them
The only sound they make
Is white noise
"What if instead of beautiful noises, each instrument made a type of white noise. Like static, you know. No notes. Just eerie sounds, nothing peaceful."
Orange Rose Aug 2018
I hear a song which colors Autumn.
It sings Creation's symphony,
Of days long past, or still to be,
Of what the Earth is to become.

It moves the air and paints the skies.
The waves crash with crescendos,
And with its trumpets, wind does blow.
The cellos play.  The eagle flies.

With violins the flowers bloom.
With piccolos the sparrow calls.
Like cotton snow, the music falls.
The drums begin. The mountains loom.

And when it seems the song will end,
In Winter's white and icy chill,
When all the world is calm and still,
The trumpets will begin again.
inspired by Vivaldi
stargazer Jul 2018
Words have power
They can pierce your bones
The right ones devour
Your very soul
Peaceful ones flower
And make you whole

Others cut deep
Leave scars, angry red
Make you lose sleep
As they dance in your head
Your happiness they reap
Until your spirit is dead

The strong message they send
Cannot be erased
They twist and they bend
They demand to be faced
They make ideas blend
Leaving a bad aftertaste

You cannot try to forget
The things you hear
Like a cigarette
They take what you hold dear
They sing a duet
Of shame, grief, and fear

Once it is said
It penetrates the defenses
Causing joy or dread
Sometimes beyond recompenses

Words can move you
Words can ****
Words can pierce through
Words can thrill

Each time you part your lips
The words that stain the air
Can sink the finest ships
Or be an answer to a prayer
"Say what you mean. Mean what you say."
Lily Jul 2018
Please tell everyone your name, grade,
And what instrument you play.
We’re just going to go over some basics.
You can have a break in ten minutes.
Band, ten, HUT!
Come to set!
I said come to set!
Heels together, toes apart.
Check your posture!
Guide to your left!
No, your other left!
Your steps are too big.
No, now your steps are too small.
You have to stay at set for three minutes;
If anyone moves, we start again.
Restart the time!
Restart again!
Get your feet in time, freshmen!
Section leaders, I need to see you.  Now.
Your water break is still ten minutes away.
Drum majors, go get more batteries for the met.
First competition guys, good luck!
I don’t care if it’s late, we need to learn the drill.
Someone go run and turn on the field lights!
You’ll thank me later.
First football game, good luck!
Drumline, did I say you could put your instruments down?
Trumpets, get your horns up!  To the press box!
You’ll get it, don’t give up!
Last competition guys, congrats!
Give it your all and don’t look back!
Guard, don’t **** anybody with your flags.
Last football game, congrats!
Somebody please let the bass drums through!
Everybody give me your plumes!
Do NOT set your uniform on the ground!
I expect all of you back next year.
Thank you for giving me your best.
I apologize for when I was at my worst.
I love you guys.
Sun Drop Jun 2018
Don't defy the clarinet, its keys are awful sharp.
Don't attempt to struggle 'gainst the plucking of the harp.
Don't strike at the chin-rest of the nimble violin.
Let their sounds ****** you, breathe in deeply and give in.

Let your eyelids flutter as the bass punches away.
Drift off into slumber as the horns start their foray.
Dream of passing pleasantries, and don't mind the bassoons.
Why supply rejoinders when the sounds solicit swoons?
Blake Jun 2018
She threw to many sharp stones.
So as her glass house tumbled down,
She would pick one of the shards of choir glass off the ground and use it
as a instrument.
Always playing the same violent violin piece across her dynamical skin.

Her mother always knew she had
a gift for music.
So when she heard the same solemn chorus pitching from the living room ceiling,
She darted to steal the show.

And become her daughters duet...her piano,
To hug her so tightly,
Singing and squeezing
Until her violin chords stopped bleeding.
Parents make and break you
Damaré M May 2018
I wanna have sax with you again.

You trumpet my mind away.

I miss how the tips of my fingers press every single one of your keys causing you to vibrate

Then I’d strum a handful of your strings, getting amped up for you to scream

Do you remember the way that your ***** felt due to the stroking of my trombone?

This is when your harps start to beat excessively

And mines was on the same bass

You would always turn around so I can use my drumstick

You’d think I put my foot it in.

I recall how you catch rhythm quite splendid each side clapping tambourines.

I inquired, you’d choir

****, our orchestrated erotica

Now do you understand why your name is logged into my phone as Harmonica?
Next page