#violins - Hello Poetry

Instead of door slamming, Listen to heavy metal music, And engage in headbanging. Instead of giving into violence, Listen to the sounds of violins, And practise non-violence.

0

Jan 21, 2025

Jan 21, 2025 at 2:43 AM UTC

Atul

Violence and Violins

Instead of door slamming, Listen to heavy metal music, And engage in headbanging. Instead of giving into violence, Listen to the sounds of violins, And practise non-violence.

6

Do you love the grit of my teeth, True caressing sweet nature, Slowly engulfing you… Love‘s venom taking over us, Never to let you go free, Nor leave a simple clue… Symphonies of dreams distorted, No one to crave you but thee, Savings for catacombs… Who to find you of buried love, Your skin melting of ***** wealth, Reeking of ****** pomes… Shake alive your casket of limbs… Of ground the crying violins…

0

Jan 6, 2022

Jan 6, 2022 at 3:03 PM UTC

NickolasJMcKee

The Crying Violins

Do you love the grit of my teeth, True caressing sweet nature, Slowly engulfing you… Love‘s venom taking over us, Never to let you go free, Nor leave a simple clue… Symphonies of dreams distorted, No one to crave you but thee, Savings for catacombs… Who to find you of buried love, Your skin melting of ***** wealth, Reeking of ****** pomes… Shake alive your casket of limbs… Of ground the crying violins…

14

If you don't find me It's because I became the singer's Timbre love poetry. A hundred violins in her orchestra dig deep beneath the core to heal Any pain felt within. I too become the music vibrations piercing in soul singer of lover's poetry In memory of a tantric Spanish poetess who sang poems for lovers all her life. my great friend Rocío Jurado's healer song linked in song below. ~~~~~ By Karijinbba

0

Jul 17, 2021

Jul 17, 2021 at 2:32 PM UTC

karijinbba

Healer Violin's Voice

If you don't find me It's because I became the singer's Timbre love poetry. A hundred violins in her orchestra dig deep beneath the core to heal Any pain felt within. I too become the music vibrations piercing in soul singer of lover's poetry In memory of a tantric Spanish poetess who sang poems for lovers all her life. my great friend Rocío Jurado's healer song linked in song below. ~~~~~ By Karijinbba

13

I cut off my ears at a beautiful note And fall in love when it's a screeching sound I gauge my eyes out with the violin's bow The audience claps so I take a bow Lately, I have been détaché-d Colorful melody, no strings attached Take the strings of the violin Tie them around my neck I grab the neck of the violin, choke myself and say Violence is yet another instrument I can't play.

0

May 22, 2019

May 22, 2019 at 5:40 PM UTC

SEDZ

v i o l i n s

I cut off my ears at a beautiful note And fall in love when it's a screeching sound I gauge my eyes out with the violin's bow The audience claps so I take a bow Lately, I have been détaché-d Colorful melody, no strings attached Take the strings of the violin Tie them around my neck I grab the neck of the violin, choke myself and say Violence is yet another instrument I can't play.

18

Woke up way to early this morning went to sleep too **** late but the universe was already awake, loose and free eons before my eyes opened this day. The sun was up and around walking in the garden searching for weeds among the flowers and onions he trod the mulch to fertilize creation - he is at home there in the dirt and clay in the failures of the day. So when I arrive in the garden room and sit at my little computer amidst the plants and shells and cats and angels I feel as if I have come home from the misty crazy regions of sleep to find my deeper self here in this tiny dot in the universe. Here I listen to Chopin and Indian flute and music from beyond awakened from somewhere in the shadows and blood circulating and populating my organs playing the grand pianos , cellos violins, flutes and mellow mysterious oboes within. The sun is present in the clattering molecules of stone and bone infiltrating crashing creeping and propagating making life and death into a great and glorious symphony. Before I woke this morning the sun was wandering the creases and crevasses of my brain preparing me and making me whole taking my timid self and making it bold for the vagaries and variations of this day ready to climb into this small moment of time.

0

Feb 23, 2019

Feb 23, 2019 at 11:38 AM UTC

glenn-currier

Before I Woke

Woke up way to early this morning went to sleep too **** late but the universe was already awake, loose and free eons before my eyes opened this day. The sun was up and around walking in the garden searching for weeds among the flowers and onions he trod the mulch to fertilize creation - he is at home there in the dirt and clay in the failures of the day. So when I arrive in the garden room and sit at my little computer amidst the plants and shells and cats and angels I feel as if I have come home from the misty crazy regions of sleep to find my deeper self here in this tiny dot in the universe. Here I listen to Chopin and Indian flute and music from beyond awakened from somewhere in the shadows and blood circulating and populating my organs playing the grand pianos , cellos violins, flutes and mellow mysterious oboes within. The sun is present in the clattering molecules of stone and bone infiltrating crashing creeping and propagating making life and death into a great and glorious symphony. Before I woke this morning the sun was wandering the creases and crevasses of my brain preparing me and making me whole taking my timid self and making it bold for the vagaries and variations of this day ready to climb into this small moment of time.

46

I looked outside, the sun is shining where it hasn't for days. I looked inside, it's been caliginous for months. The smoke over my tea seems foreign, My gazes are empty, My flesh feels hardened. My thoughts don't haunt me anymore, we live together, a familiar routine. It's an odd place to be in, when you're acquiescent for Departure, but wary of the destination. Death will grace us all in a given day, how to act as a catalyst, I wondered, simply, keep your door inviting. As I sat with a blizzard inside, a deep sunken calm emerged within. I asked, "who is it?" "your solace", it answered. I asked again, confused, "who is it?" "your tranquil", it answered. I asked once again, unsure, "who is it?" "your Departure", it answered. I smiled. "What kept you so long?", I asked, "you have. May I stay?", it asked me. "You've never left. A perpetual guest is always welcome." I answered. The sound of violins overcame me, an odd, fitting melody.

0

Jan 19, 2019

Jan 19, 2019 at 10:32 AM UTC

JaneRethem

I Talked to Death Today

I looked outside, the sun is shining where it hasn't for days. I looked inside, it's been caliginous for months. The smoke over my tea seems foreign, My gazes are empty, My flesh feels hardened. My thoughts don't haunt me anymore, we live together, a familiar routine. It's an odd place to be in, when you're acquiescent for Departure, but wary of the destination. Death will grace us all in a given day, how to act as a catalyst, I wondered, simply, keep your door inviting. As I sat with a blizzard inside, a deep sunken calm emerged within. I asked, "who is it?" "your solace", it answered. I asked again, confused, "who is it?" "your tranquil", it answered. I asked once again, unsure, "who is it?" "your Departure", it answered. I smiled. "What kept you so long?", I asked, "you have. May I stay?", it asked me. "You've never left. A perpetual guest is always welcome." I answered. The sound of violins overcame me, an odd, fitting melody.

27

how do i not love thee whose eyes are glowing akin to the first sliver of warm light in the early morning? how do i not love thee whose voice and movements are crisper than the sound of violins and more graceful than a dove’s flight? how do i not love thee whose heart gleams with the hope of betterment, of happiness, of safety and a burning passion? how do i not love thee when even the moon looks down upon the silhouette of apollo reincarnated? how do i not love thee when cupid’s arrow has struck so deep that the sole reason troclaim an ineffable love? — if there’s a reason to dream, to laugh, to live and love, then there is a reason for me. (it is thee.)

0

Feb 17, 2018

Feb 17, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC

warmth

when the reason comes

how do i not love thee whose eyes are glowing akin to the first sliver of warm light in the early morning? how do i not love thee whose voice and movements are crisper than the sound of violins and more graceful than a dove’s flight? how do i not love thee whose heart gleams with the hope of betterment, of happiness, of safety and a burning passion? how do i not love thee when even the moon looks down upon the silhouette of apollo reincarnated? how do i not love thee when cupid’s arrow has struck so deep that the sole reason troclaim an ineffable love? — if there’s a reason to dream, to laugh, to live and love, then there is a reason for me. (it is thee.)

23

Virtuous as the goddess of the sky, In every way like history, Once played for the gods; Like the melody of harmony, Intricately woven throughout time, Notorious as the wind.

0

Oct 28, 2017

Oct 28, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC

Crystal_Phoenix_poetry

Violin

Virtuous as the goddess of the sky, In every way like history, Once played for the gods; Like the melody of harmony, Intricately woven throughout time, Notorious as the wind.

6

All of the rowboats in the paintings They keep trying to row away, And the captains' worried faces Stay contorted and staring at the waves. They’ll keep hanging in their gold frames For forever, forever and a day. All of the rowboats in the oil paintings, They keep trying to row away. I Hear them whispering, French and German. Dutch, Italian, and Latin. When no one’s looking I touch a sculpture Marble, cold and soft as satin. But the most special are the most lonely God, I pity the violins. In glass coffins they keep coughing They’ve forgotten how to sing. First there’s lights out, then there’s lock up, Masterpieces serving maximum sentences. It’s their own fault for being timeless, There’s a price to pay and a consequence. All the galleries, the museums Here’s your ticket, welcome to the tombs. They are just public mausoleums, The living dead fill every room

0

Jun 13, 2016

Jun 13, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC

Eloi1997

Glass coffins

All of the rowboats in the paintings They keep trying to row away, And the captains' worried faces Stay contorted and staring at the waves. They’ll keep hanging in their gold frames For forever, forever and a day. All of the rowboats in the oil paintings, They keep trying to row away. I Hear them whispering, French and German. Dutch, Italian, and Latin. When no one’s looking I touch a sculpture Marble, cold and soft as satin. But the most special are the most lonely God, I pity the violins. In glass coffins they keep coughing They’ve forgotten how to sing. First there’s lights out, then there’s lock up, Masterpieces serving maximum sentences. It’s their own fault for being timeless, There’s a price to pay and a consequence. All the galleries, the museums Here’s your ticket, welcome to the tombs. They are just public mausoleums, The living dead fill every room

24

#16 | 31 Poems for August This poetry is a reflection of love, I’m just here to explain it. The world is my canvas, you should see all the pictures that I’ve painted. Violins violently playing symphonies of pain and misery. It’s not a mystery how I have God sitting right here next to me. I’m heading home from church, but this time I’m walking alone. Sometimes reflections bring a sense of regress. I smile even though the world keeps elevating my stress. These hands have held together fragments of a fragile conversation. We are able to talk for hours because these words flow with no hesitation. You are lost in the world and you’re always left feeling alone. Friends should never lose hope in trying to find their way back to one another. Wherever you are I hope all these words find you. Love is a beautiful thing and I’m here to remind you. I’ll hold you together, I’ll help you rediscover the splendour in your smile. Everything will be alright even though we haven’t seen each other in a while. I’m in the dark about all the problems that you’re currently facing. So lead me into the light and refrain me from being complacent. Even the congregation knows you cannot always save everybody. But hey, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to save somebody. We are all fighting different battles, losing limbs in the midst of war. Maybe someone needs your love and light now more ever than before. Maybe you could try saving somebody tonight. God got us, I know we will all eventually be alright.

0

Aug 16, 2015

Aug 16, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC

kaleidoscope-prhyme

Save Somebody

#16 | 31 Poems for August This poetry is a reflection of love, I’m just here to explain it. The world is my canvas, you should see all the pictures that I’ve painted. Violins violently playing symphonies of pain and misery. It’s not a mystery how I have God sitting right here next to me. I’m heading home from church, but this time I’m walking alone. Sometimes reflections bring a sense of regress. I smile even though the world keeps elevating my stress. These hands have held together fragments of a fragile conversation. We are able to talk for hours because these words flow with no hesitation. You are lost in the world and you’re always left feeling alone. Friends should never lose hope in trying to find their way back to one another. Wherever you are I hope all these words find you. Love is a beautiful thing and I’m here to remind you. I’ll hold you together, I’ll help you rediscover the splendour in your smile. Everything will be alright even though we haven’t seen each other in a while. I’m in the dark about all the problems that you’re currently facing. So lead me into the light and refrain me from being complacent. Even the congregation knows you cannot always save everybody. But hey, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try to save somebody. We are all fighting different battles, losing limbs in the midst of war. Maybe someone needs your love and light now more ever than before. Maybe you could try saving somebody tonight. God got us, I know we will all eventually be alright.

24

Your love is White cotton White Pages & Ethno Paganini ****** ink Delayed Day after Night Night after Might Notes Scribble Notes Scrabble Endlessly As my heart yearns for you As Automaton Of Adriatic Zephyrs Blow my dreams Toward Destined direction Future Journeys Rock boats Bouncing Soles Are All Souls Aboard The Canues The Cocoons Of your sweetest heart And you know what !?! You proud male~sweetest man ! I would say to you : Oh ~baby ! Let's mount that train ! Let us Play Again ! Along the strange cocoa Coasts . . . You can catch me there ~ Dreaming of your Dreamy Affection _ _ _ _ Nature Beautifies Everything ! Your Life is packed With pickels & Charming Postcards Glued on your Baggage Honey Bears & Beavers And Native Horses Are not Badgers & Empty beaches Are not what they seem ! She said Darling ! You said She said ! Love us ! And she Is Sheer Eloquent Beauty A Ga~seele And You ~ Handsome Mind Al-Ghazālī At Might Sombre butterfly In this Night

0

Jun 1, 2015

Jun 1, 2015 at 4:29 PM UTC

ImpeccableSpacePoetess

Delayed Postcards

Your love is White cotton White Pages & Ethno Paganini ****** ink Delayed Day after Night Night after Might Notes Scribble Notes Scrabble Endlessly As my heart yearns for you As Automaton Of Adriatic Zephyrs Blow my dreams Toward Destined direction Future Journeys Rock boats Bouncing Soles Are All Souls Aboard The Canues The Cocoons Of your sweetest heart And you know what !?! You proud male~sweetest man ! I would say to you : Oh ~baby ! Let's mount that train ! Let us Play Again ! Along the strange cocoa Coasts . . . You can catch me there ~ Dreaming of your Dreamy Affection _ _ _ _ Nature Beautifies Everything ! Your Life is packed With pickels & Charming Postcards Glued on your Baggage Honey Bears & Beavers And Native Horses Are not Badgers & Empty beaches Are not what they seem ! She said Darling ! You said She said ! Love us ! And she Is Sheer Eloquent Beauty A Ga~seele And You ~ Handsome Mind Al-Ghazālī At Might Sombre butterfly In this Night

80

I listen and let you take me along always yearning, wishing hoping that I might land, wondering why I even need to find my footing. I am a complex soul, I keep telling myself that, while around me, in the active bustle of a sidewalk cafe, I see faces, so many lovely minds, untapped but directed, finding their own place, their own quiet destiny. ~ I hear the winds of 'winter's discontent.' Remains in my mind, always knocking in silence, my pulse awaits a shift, some opportunity to tick lasting effects, define my confusion, while you journey me on, music, my violins, I listen and feel pain, then resonant delight. I am alone, inside a quiet dream of human interaction. yet, where am I supposed to land. I can at least, count on you, the rhythms of my soul, to take me along on a quiet journey. Please remain discreet, lest those around recognize I may be incomplete.

0

Jan 2, 2015

Jan 2, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC

thomamundsen

Violins My Woe

I listen and let you take me along always yearning, wishing hoping that I might land, wondering why I even need to find my footing. I am a complex soul, I keep telling myself that, while around me, in the active bustle of a sidewalk cafe, I see faces, so many lovely minds, untapped but directed, finding their own place, their own quiet destiny. ~ I hear the winds of 'winter's discontent.' Remains in my mind, always knocking in silence, my pulse awaits a shift, some opportunity to tick lasting effects, define my confusion, while you journey me on, music, my violins, I listen and feel pain, then resonant delight. I am alone, inside a quiet dream of human interaction. yet, where am I supposed to land. I can at least, count on you, the rhythms of my soul, to take me along on a quiet journey. Please remain discreet, lest those around recognize I may be incomplete.

35