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Ira Sosa Sep 12
With a cursory press of a key and arco of the strings,
They look at each other,
Determining when to start through what looks like telepathy,
But it is instead the subtle movement of arms and chest.

They begin.

With the movement of bows bouncing on metal,
And the dancing digits upon black and white,
Sound reverberates between the audience,
With eyes and ears in tandem absorbing the scene.

They continue.

As they pass over bridges,
And draw out waves with their hands,
I listen,
Swaying and breathing and performing as though I am beside them,
Despite being above them,
Yet feeling so below.

Becoming one with their instrument,
And bringing me along,
I smile,
As just like they pull beauty out of their tools with their soul,
They guide joy out of me,
For all of us.

They end.

Then again, they start.
With new sounds from a new person,
With new intent,
And new methods.

They change.

From haphazard joy and dance,
To somber death and confusion,
They become one with the music,
And follow in its suit.

They continue, anew.

As the sound changes,
So do I.
Listening with sharper ears,
Hoping to catch a different magic in my ears.

They continue, still.

As the cello draws honey,
The violin; its dew,
And the piano waterfalls arpeggios,
I am content.

They end.

Full of the food of life,
They stand,
To let us feast with them with our hungry hands,
Giving our own vibrations to fill our drooling souls.

They leave.
And so do I.
Both of us fed and quenched,
From the performance.
A professor of Piano, Violin, and Cello can make some bangers...
calypso Apr 5
he plays with my love
with the strings of his bow
it makes such a precise sound
consistently on pitch

he moves his hands
inch-perfect on strings
each tune a new sorrow
each string used
more infatuated then before
i love the sound of music, especially the violin. it always makes my heart stop and sing, on the highest pitch. it feels like floating
I S A A C Feb 7
zEn
lustful and untrustful
screaming matches and rebuttals
worn out muscles and tear puddles
but what did we win, cards caving in
whichever way you try to spin, swan song on the violin
whichever play you do, your eyes get under my skin
I can see the hurt, the guilt, the shame
I tried to heal, build, and begin
again and again, return to my zen listening to Gwen
escape to my four white walls and write songs
each melody washes away the pain of yesterday
each harmony bringing back the colour to the gray
lifeless self I let my body become
dancing to the beat of my own drum
Farah Taskin Nov 2021
The violinist
fiddled
The fragrant
flowers
of the vase
wafted
The sweet
sound
merged
into the flowery fragrances
Raven Feels Jun 2021
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, when you wish upon a star
your dreams come true-Cliff Edwards---do they? :>


remember when you called us quits too soon
one year later in a **** same room
all the blacks and whites grayed out a little on me
but never returned the woods in thousand dreams

remember when you took that hug in a theft
burned the station down and couldn't hear a left
but things a carry a chocolate cake would never cut
all so small to you but me just a single much

remember when the ice we clanged and freed
even the cold I've missed the day you chose a fleeing cheat
all the hours and runs we held the hands and lilac
but I know again a no more a wont come back

remember the dark ages we bled and rhymed
cared and favored out on every other than not crime
all the shadows and hunts tracing the midnight sky
but the stars would never forget a lover's align

but my heart and soul would never know to draw a line
but my nights and getaways would never dim a dime
but my soul can't erase veins on violin classic chimes
but-------------------------------------------------------­-----------

                                                                            ------ravenfeels
GraciexJones Jun 2021
You
You’re a storm in summer,
So fast-moving and out of the blue,

You’re like the first day of Spring,
Blooming and slowly rising,
Amongst the decomposing earth,

You’re like a shifting darkness,
Hard to tell where you start and begin,
Filling the space with your whole being,

Your firelight flares up like a firefly,
So bright and fluttering through the twilight,

Your eyes glow with a glace of gold and rose,
So fired up on adrenaline,
Running through the countryside like a wild fox,

Your depression is like the deep artic sea,
When it gets so heavy you crawl into your shell,
So desolated with your own thoughts

You’re like a broken violin,
So beautiful but splintered with visible scars,
From the lovers who had misled you in the past
David Naumann Apr 2021
The soloist closes their eyes and leans in to play their instrument,
an intertwined movement as the musician and their tool becomes one.
An ever so subtle look of one who loves to that which is intimate,
knowing the sentiment that was formed now may never be undone.

The dance is bittersweet as the moment has already began to fade,
a beautiful sight with the undertones of a melancholic symphony.
Even though the house lights stayed a lit and the music swayed
the musician could see the end coming of this moment so vividly.

This temporary music spreads out into infinity,
where all is left is the memories.
Notes and undertones that almost approach divinity,
where all is left is the reveries.

The house lights went out, the soloist left gasping for air.
Every delicate sensation overwhelmed but they didn't care.
Our nights filled with dreams of music as it drifts quietly off into the night sky forming into stars.
Locked in this glass jar
I stare at the stars
Replaying my past scars
Things that are so far
Rocking in this endless ocean
Always in motion
Sometimes I can't breathe
I can feel death creeping in
Playing its neverending violin
Where did this all begin?
Death plays its endless notes for me
Wishing to be free
As I stare at the endless sea
Death holds me by the hand
He is the only one who can understand
~28/3/21
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