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Dante Rocío Dec 2020
Lights or darks
To break a glass,
I’m worth on it and not in the droll,
To depart from the bed in black the one who
Addresses themselves to overtake their self and become in a rave,
Violin string works at ease;
Give me a gulp of the Moon to crash to my side,
to crack in ecstasy of me inside.
I’ve put up enough with walking perfect like the porcelain.
A translation of a spontaneity of Poetry with French on the images of the dark, fumes, grey, space as a physical trait and instruments from a picture prompt for short letters
Dante Rocío Dec 2020
Lueurs ou sombres
Un verre casser,
J’en vaux et pas en drôle,
Partir du lit noir celui qui
S’adresse à s’envahir et être un délire
Fil de violon travaille à l’aise:
Donnez-moi un coup de la lune pour m’en écraser et m’en crever,
J’en ai marre marcher parfait comme la porcelaine
A spontaneity of Poetry with French on the images of the dark, fumes, grey, space as a physical trait and instruments from a picture prompt for short letters
Kristin Dec 2020
How do I love you?
I obsessively read
Pisces love horoscopes
though I am a Capricorn

How do I love you?
I vividly imagine
our colorful future together
though I know it's unlikely

How do I love you?
I unhesitatingly take
your jabs at my best efforts to please you
though I know you're projecting

How do I love you?
I ask myself, constantly, repeatedly
why my love for you isn't enough
though I do know the answer

How do I love you?
I incessantly interrogate myself
a beggar for love, begging away
though there's a treasure trove inside of me

How do I love you?
as I look longingly at my reflection
at the woman who is still learning to love herself
though her soft, open  heart has  be restrung like a treasured violin
Maria Mitea Jul 2020
When the orchestra begins to play
serene melodies eternally free,
drifting over gifts of hypnotic beauty,
lifting you out from the depths of the sea,

A triumphant entry rises the curtain,
and the fantasy-overture starts its story,
as wondrous morning celebrates passion
striking heart chords with fresh glory,

Waves of the sound wash over thee,
as tempo rubato steals beats of free rhythm,
giving birth to vibrant embellished pearls,
preserving the virtuoso’s flawless gift,  

Violine pleading into the waltz of roses
rhythmic freedom mingling  harmonic trills,
dazzling whirlwinds diffusing tasteful fragrance
carried by fairy tales over hills,

Dreamy melodies slip under the gateway,
hummers striking piano strings
broken chords accompanied by murky
nocturnal interlude, where words cannot fit,

Unnoticed by the virtuoso’s glistening tears
witnessing in silence mesmerizing
sounds that would never be held
in-time at the discretion of the soloist,

Lost halfway in the ebullient coda,
and musing under the canopy of the stars,
glittering gold blazing display of bravata,
entering their kingdom in discrete contrabass,  

When the orchestra begins to play
serene melodies eternally free,
drifting over gifts of hypnotic beauty,
lifting you out from the depths of the sea.
nuanced at night Jul 2020
play me like a violin

lure my music out

the music you’ve so carefully hidden in my core

touch me gingerly

summon what you once put deep within

so many eons ago

free me from this trap

this tangled web of broken strings

that suffocates even my strongest breaths
Dante Rocío Jun 2020
[To Mary C.]
I've met again a violin and a piano in a cooperative anguish of a story.
To reminisce
(Or is it "recall"? "Reminisce" is only laced with joy)
Your love for that black and white ministry of music that I believe there is
And taste it together with notes of those honey strings before which I shiver delightfully instead
Make and made a prompt haste and nostalgic astrae longed to be left by a human's bed.
Just to let you know and sense,
I'm having and feeling you too on my thoughts and oh so unspoken words of laced understatements,
Right on that Rainy Song dúo.
I'm sure you're sleeping tight.
But no harm done.
It's better this way. Not binding you to your face, calling you without name or reason.
Really, hope my act doesn't creep or leave out, it's form and prolonging chaotic and loud
It is that "God-like" state who makes me a mute lovesick fool,  a wannabe paramour to any of your kin, who wants to pepper kisses on each tear and stare in each other's eyes for hours with no matter bespoken.
I'll leave simply my note at the table,
Like one leaving the other in the bed before dawn.
No "I'll stay" nor "I'm leaving",
Tinted with tenerezza cazza.
No explaining, the void necessary for the sense of reason and authenticity bigger than the material the literal.
Don't get up, don't bother, sleep tight, don't rise.
Just be aware you were on my mind, may that make you rise.
Experience ya later, not see ya later,
In salty waters our stars I now fight to see in the dark at that signs of the clock without glasses on.
I wish to finally dispose of needs of my vessel for at least those few holy moments clad in ombré.
Have the dearest night,
Goodbye.
~
PS Don't look for sense, don't name it or trap it, just let it experience you, kiss you and have it. Dismantle, dismantle the logic together before it becomes a sicario forever.
Eyelids closing and ending
Written on an inky night of coming undone at a tender, astral session of mine whilst listening to Tomoya Naka’s “Rainy Song”.
For my aforementioned friend of mind, a closed-off lover of piano and music, we came both at once in that song, without her knowing.
And I bore this, transcribed in words from wondrous void
Je te remercie, Marie.
De novo boa noite
Isabella Howard Jun 2020
An old church at the end of the road
Sunflowers spill over the altar
For children grown old.

Alone in the pews
I watch light suffused
Through stained glass windows.

When I was young
And it was my turn
They gave us roses
Told us they still have thorns
Because life would hurt us
When we found it.

Most of us did.

Including me.

Most of us left those four walls.

Most of us moved far away.

Most of us never returned.

Except for me.

The dusty hymnals smell like youth.
The empty sanctuary looks like home.
And I can still see myself by the piano
The sound of my violin
Was bigger than the world.

When it's all over

I step outside and feel the cold.

I was so young.

And now I'm afraid.

I'm getting so old.

I don't know anyone
Filing out the door.
Nobody knows me.

I walk to the B&B.
I ask for a room.
I used to play there so often
They always let me stay for free.


The clerk says it's switched hands
A dozen times or more.
They say the chandelier
Hasn't heard a song in years.

I unpack my suitcase upstairs
And can't help but shed a few tears

For a town
That truly
Forgot
Me.
-elixir- May 2020
The rose petals fall,
like snowflakes
as they twirl,
to the strings of
the violin.

The two souls twirl,
as their hearts beat,
in unison, tenderly
as they endear each other
deep into their eyes.

Their sacred relish,
dots the future,
welcomes the future.
Filling their lives,
as they dance to the end,
of bliss.
Ephemeral Apr 2020
Violin in my ribs
Guitar in my heart
Drums in my mind
Yet all out of sync
Guess I need a perfect conductor
But who will be brave enough
To tame such a disordered body?
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