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Kee 3d
As the violinist brushes the bow against the instrument
She takes in a deep breath
She takes in those painful memories
And she exhales
They’re gone
Hitting her in flashes
She has to overcome the darkness that stands in the way of her light
She is torn
Because even if she wants to leave her past
She still holds some of those memories clutched tight to her thumping heart
Even the ones that haunt her the most
You see
She is split down the middle
Her mind is saying go
But her body won’t even tilt
She’s frozen stuck in a life
That she had wept about in nightmares
She was strong
But she couldn’t wrap her mind around living like this anymore
She got the message when her eyes would no longer shine
And she had to force a smile on to her face
She just wanted to be normal again
She wanted her violin to bring her joy
Once more
It had been her only sanctuary
The only place she called home
lila Mar 30
you can play me
like a ******* violin
as long as you hold me
because i still yearn
for your touch
even if you play
a little too rough
3/21/2019
can you hear the sound of my soul? It reminds me crying violin at night. Unfortunately, you don't want to listen to this cacophony... or luckily?
Kat Jan 17
After senior year of high school
I stopped playing violin.
I should backtrack –
It was during that year
That my music changed --
Lost its carefreeness,
Its confidence,
Its spark,
And I no longer savored
Every measure
Or laughed
At every sound
My bow made
When I messed up.

Instead
I tried to be quiet;
To play so that no one
Would hear my mistakes,
So that no one
Would hear
How course,
How callous
My music had become,
Noticing every flaw,
Laughing at the musician
I had turned into.
I tried to be quiet;
But whenever I tried
My hands shook like timbers
In an earthquake
That have lost
Their foundations;
My bow scratched at the strings
Like nails on glass;
My chords were weak,
My melody tenuous,
And with each withering note
I felt so ******* ashamed.
I was no longer proud of my music.
It no longer made me happy
To try and play
Properly,
And instead of sounding better
I sounded even worse
Than I had before.

So after senior year ended
I stopped playing violin,
Put down the instrument
I thought I’d never touch again.
I thought,
What use in playing
When the only music I could make
Was pain?
Why play when I felt
Like it was useless to play at all?
When it took so much effort?
When I was too ******* tired
To remember
What real music sounded like,
And besides,
How would anyone
Ever find my music beautiful?

So I waited in a darkness
Where melodies
Were replaced
With the sounds of my sobs;
Where dancing notes
On white paper
Were replaced with tears
Running down pale cheeks;
Where the passion that permeated
Each song I played
Was replaced with an **** apathy.
This is the time
When my music stopped,
And time ticked by
With the consistency of a metronome
While my foundations crumbled,
Caved in,
Collapsed,
Leaving me wishing
For an end.
Cause even when you feel alone,
If you can still make music
You can still find a reason
To hope;
But I couldn't make music
Anymore.

I got through
This darkness.
I found music again,
Found my melody --
Found it in the sound of laughter,
In the lulls of a new language,
In the pure white
Of mountain snow,
In the soft moist earth
Of forest paths;
I found my music,
I picked up my violin again
And this time
The music was happy,
Happier
Than it ever was before
Because I was so ******* happy
To be alive.
And this time,
There were no expectations
Except that I learn to play
The music I love
Again.

It got worse again
I should have known it would have.
But now
When I am feeling even a bit
Like I did then,
I turn to music.
I pick up my violin
From its case,
Caress its faded edges,
Finger its silver strings,
Dust its worn, warm wood;
I play
My friends’ smiles
My family’s hugs
My professors’ jokes;
I play songs of love
And loss;
I play life
In its carefree curious complexity,
And even if I grow tired,
I never again decide to quit
For good;
Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned,
It’s that I should never
Stop playing.
you are the composer
of my
eloquently written sonnets
the fingers that gently pluck me
on a heavy violin
the muse behind my intricate ballads

- katrina ******
instagram: @wordsbykatrina
twitter: @_wordsbykatrina
tumblr: wordsbykatrina.tumblr.com
Lyda M Dec 2018
Let us dance,

Let us sing,

Let us be merry and jovial



See! The lark flies!

Red and gold

Aflutter in the breeze!



The strings resonate

The drums beat in time

As horns and flute

Play



There is much to

Celebrate this

Auspicious day



Auspicious day?

No such thing!



Each day is much

Like the other

And tomorrow



So sadness, evil,

Anxiety,

Away with thee!



We will sing

Of what was,

What is,

What will be



The past shall not

return



The present ever

a walking pace



The future

Unforeseen



So will be our days

Left to fate



Such are the

Years short



So what use are

These of gloom and doom?



Stay with me,

Let us be with

Music til the end



But may our music

Never end.
Beethoven Violin Concerto, Op.61 - third movement
Lyda M Dec 2018
Pristine white,

Like cathedral spires,

Pierce the skies



There is longing,

For the sky blue

Expanse above



Can you not see?

The love, the yearning



There is so much more

Than what this world

Can offer to one such as you



‘Tis pleasant,

A wonder of quiet

and harmony



Who do you offer

Music to?



Oh, love,

How lovely it

Is to meet you



Overflowing,

One cannot comprehend

Such beauty



And these days

Are golden and light

With the fluttering

Of your love



In the form

Of soaring melodies



Alas!
Beethoven Violin Concerto, Op.61 - second movement
Lyda M Dec 2018
Music – she is my muse

She sings to me

Her lilting voice reaching for the heavens



And yet



It falls short as she aches for

Love – tis heart breaking and bittersweet



It is a tug of war

For the melody

Who it sings for



A back and forth,

Undecided, disconcerted

Forlorn and desolate



Madness, determination

But she is beckoned

back, restrain





Don’t hold back

[I] can’t hold back

[I’m] trying



And yet

[I’ll] fall short



“Why? Oh, why?”

Can one not sing?

Shall the muse be only thought,

Ever taught?



No.



She sings and sings.

To fill in the desire

Of a passion unrestrained

(with restraints)



She is ineffable,

And only in silence

Can she be heard.
Beethoven Violin Concerto in D Major, Op.61 - first movement
Maxim Keyfman Dec 2018
with violin in hand with
sand in your pocket
i go i step again
where will i find that
golden bird

I live I want to live
find the last treasure
to burn to burn
and darkness and darkness
never know

play a tune
one melody of the world
play the misty of mist
but fog and gloom
and not know darkness

13.12.18
Emma Q Sep 2018
Notes drift through the air
Everything stops to listen
The violin bow drifts
Through dimensions of music
Carving a note into the earth
Miles away,
Fingers move across a keyboard
Creating magic
Real magic
Through music
Next to her
A gentle voice begins to sing
Creating a melody
Music travels everywhere
It's real magic
To those who can
Imagine
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