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Anais Vionet Nov 4
(this is another throw-back - a piece of writing, from high school, used in my Yale applications)

I pound the pillow, curse the clock and mock injunctions to rest.

The sun finally rises and its rays slantwise fall through the curtains as I dry my hair.

A meal, like a forced dose, we soak ourselves in wasted, nervous time.

Finally! We arrive at the competition...

Tension is here and tireless pressure.

The players waiting stiff as straw, tongues playing over dry lips.

Teachers and coaches unapologetic in their pallor.

Music drifts behind us and occasionally gasps, as imperfections play like daring circus tricks.

The sparkling prodigy returns disappointed, grimace of a smile, stricken, he stares away as we search for words, oh! clumsy, unrepairable prince!

Suddenly, its time and I wonder why we are hurrying, feeling weak, momentarily frightened to go there.

On this stage in this great, hushed hall, enormity suddenly dawns with mass enough to crush me.

At last, I sit before this odd Steinway music machine - my dearest mechanical friend.

A tremble resisted - the reward of mortal afternoons - endless practices fruit.

Eyes closed I prepare my best self - pushing all fear, all doubt, to the margins - and begin.

I hope, to recreate, one note at a time, Chopin's ancient impact - with hands flying, like tethered birds, I hammer out his timeless melody explosions, his streams of crazily exact math exam fiery semiquaver motions.. then, almost suddenly, I'm done.

I stand, joyously, nearly crying.. The world hasn't ended.
.
.
Songs for this:
12 Etudes, Op. 10: No. 4 in C-Sharp Minor by Vladimir Ashkenazy
Part of Your World by Emile Pandolfi
We gather together by Emile Pandolfi
I thought I was going to be a concert pianist once - before covid.
Did you know there are piano recital competitions?
I wasn't a prodigy, I practiced endlessly, only to lose, eventually, to one of the prodigies.
I competed in 7 'big ones,' two were international, and I came in second every time.
My joke was, "I'm the second-best pianist in any room."
I only switched my goals (to medicine - sort of the family business) when that fell through (Thanks, one more time, covid).
a throng
connect a
noise abut
frowns of
disbelief that
may rejoice
here and
swing to
the beat
with their
sunny dispositions
in the
rain today
that found
these roots
of yore
notably sound
A town of 10000
Grace May 2018
You are the drunk father at a ballet recital,

Who falls off the stage after shaking everyone's hands.

You are the body that brightens my life.
I wrote this in a challenge to "Write a three-line poem about lemons without using the following words: lemon, yellow, round, fruit, citrus, ****, juicy, peel, and sour."
NRIKO Dec 2017
(Alt title: Colors That Will Mean Nothing)

I am a Fauve
My love of colors
exist not in reality; a fraud
but in a recital
of never-ending silence

Home and school,
the grays of the abusive enigma,
Outside under rule,
the blacks of the abusive enigma,
but the river- Oh, the river-

Blue is not its only love,
a reflection of the human emotions,
place of a seeking Fauve,
And in those waves- a peaclful notion,
a boy with eyes closed.

Escaping, escaping,
reaching the bottom,
a living manifesto,
one that speaks from
how blue the skin has gone,
then purple,
and finally,
declining from the
mindset of a Fauve,
the boy has become
colorless.
And in this case,
lifeless.

- enriko eozyoh
Nemsey Oct 2017
RETo exist, I shape my gloom, like...
Cubes and Circles, forms of time
A Frail stand, staunch fortress reflect
I seek lone! steps take me further
Stop...
But, an ironic approach upon despair
Replace my tears with shapes and fear
Yet, life circulates inside my veins...
My heart still beats...
I blink, an image at a time...
I blink, two shapes two deaths...
.
Whimpers
"Surrender... It's over, reject your all"
Stake, sanity, scratcHES! KeFUfFlES!
ECHO, ECho, Echo, NUMB.
Silence
Darker hour, feel nothing
Freed by slumber, from cumber
Silence
All plain and pacific, haven!
No shapes, deaths nor hearts to ache
Just life, staunch, replenishing from my tears
Attained repose, as beneath He rot!

— The End —