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Neelam Jun 6
Familiar chords mired in
sweet rememberance,
The right key struck
inexhaustible passion

In

A man

Who is

An idealism, a sacrosanct figure
orbited by lovelorn maidens,

Reason, wakefulness averted the
aberration ...

Adamant eyes searched for
his shadow, on this empty wall
facing my piano, as I yearned for the
untold warmth,

The unmistakable hues of him,
Borne by silhouetted arms,
reaching out for me,
Longing to caress my wounded
heart,

Mending the brokenness within,
With insatiable insanity,
instinctive love...
This poem is about my (mis)adventure of learning to play the piano while grappling with the dark secrets of a man I'm in love with.
LC Apr 29
two adjacent piano keys
yelled over each other
for a moving spotlight,
a crinkle of the eyes,
and a sweet, tender smile.
instead, their noise
made ears beg for peace
until eyes glanced away,
and they were left alone
with their discordant sounds.
#escapril day 28!
Estel Apr 28
Your hands dance among the ivory
In sync with one another
Creating a perfect harmony
While the sun pours through the window
Adding a glowing light to your display of talent
And a shimmer to your face
I get lost in thoughts
When I hear you play
I begin to drift away
Among the stars
For a time everything seems okay
Oh, would you re-play that one for me once more?
Raven Feels Apr 26
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, some dreams can keep you thinking for a billion years:--)


the pure turquoise shivers diamonds down my spine

torture to the power I stand naked in line

endgame towards that brown

cluster mind surrounds that shrieking sound

to her to him undeniably I **** that escape for no more

a huge leftover on my soured piano box in a vein core

a question I ponder concerning my slate

am I even ready to lead the way of knows on this plate???

or even a remember of that cursed undestined for them for us to be

a far away excluded fate

                                                                                  --------ravenfeels
What is math?
Or, what is understanding math?
It is a process of working with establishing information, which is much like finding the keys of a piano when blind.
Once the key is played, I remember, however faintly, the steps I needed to find the key.
When there are many ways this key is found, it becomes trivial like learning to ride a bicycle or learning to walk.
Thus, math understanding truly is a way of making truth less meaningful, almost insignificant.
Thus, a branch of knowledge loses its glory, its child-like wonder.
How few of us ride a bicycle  today out of fascination for the ride?
Yet, just as BMX stars compete globally, so too must a creative mind find tools which will allow me to create.
Is math doomed to fate, or will I resurrect it in creative destiny?
autodidactic
Your fingers caressed the keys
like a gentle waltz
I was utterly transfixed
by the way you carried a conversation
I shivered at each note
the melody resonated within
You were telling the piano about me.
S Mar 9
The clock is ticking

ticking… ticking… tick—

My brain is floating
As it almost sinks
That piano sounds lovely
And the clock again blinks
And my brain

In a cacophony
Of beautiful sounds
And a daunting harmony
Dancing
Whirling
Ticking
I wrote this while struggling to finish a paper
karly codr Mar 5
i have a bad habit
where i talk really bad on myself
and i never notice when i do it,
but i never realized how toxic
i can be
to myself
so anyway i was in band this morning and i was talking about how i'm not **** band in college because i **** at playing trombone and there's this kid i talk to sometimes but not on a daily basis and when he heard me saying that about myself he was like "if you ****** at trombone you wouldn't be in the varsity band. you need to stop talking bad on yourself, i've heard you play trombone, i've heard you sing, you don't **** at all, you need to stop saying these things about yourself" and then my band director chimed in and said "you never give yourself enough credit for the things you can do. you've improved so much over the past 4 years but i don't think you realize it" i promise i'm not crying rn (sorry that was long)
Payton Feb 24
Imagine, I am sitting
at the piano.
Imagine, you come to sit
beside me-to join me.
And while I am playing,  out of the corner
of my eye, I see the twinkle
in yours. The longing in your eyes,
because I caress the keys of the piano
so softly, and you hope, that
I might, one day, do the same
to
you.
But I am no more than a simple musician.
So imagine this, I can play the piano,
but    I could
          make you
                    sing.
This poem was written in 2016.
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