"kreisler" poems - Hello Poetry

There were two piano pieces of Rachmaninoff's: Love's Joy and Love's Sorrow. Now she, the musician who lets the instrument cry for her, always chooses to play the latter piece. And he, the musician who seeks to pursue happiness with his instrument, asks her, "Why do you stick to sorrow?" . . . "So I can get used to it."

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Apr 29, 2015

Apr 29, 2015 at 11:10 AM UTC

lunar-love

Kreisler

There were two piano pieces of Rachmaninoff's: Love's Joy and Love's Sorrow. Now she, the musician who lets the instrument cry for her, always chooses to play the latter piece. And he, the musician who seeks to pursue happiness with his instrument, asks her, "Why do you stick to sorrow?" . . . "So I can get used to it."

5

SELL me a violin, mister, of old mysterious wood. Sell me a fiddle that has kissed dark nights on the forehead where men kiss sisters they love. Sell me dried wood that has ached with passion clutching the knees and arms of a storm. Sell me horsehair and rosin that has ****** at the ******* of the morning sun for milk. Sell me something crushed in the heartsblood of pain readier than ever for one more song.

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1.7k

Carl Sandburg

Kreisler

SELL me a violin, mister, of old mysterious wood. Sell me a fiddle that has kissed dark nights on the forehead where men kiss sisters they love. Sell me dried wood that has ached with passion clutching the knees and arms of a storm. Sell me horsehair and rosin that has ****** at the ******* of the morning sun for milk. Sell me something crushed in the heartsblood of pain readier than ever for one more song.

5

*whatever we speak, it's hardly going to be spoken of.* which means two kettles... mind you: target practise or as i mind the 2.4 of said: superman in Iowa... do i care to mind? well, **** me! they verse in acronym i.n.d.i.a. & c.h.i.n.a. akin to a billion... i'm tongue tied and heaving, das bōt... this doesn't help the aesthetic... with prolonging dies the excess o... kaiser schweizer min took! whatever that means, they say funny accents in **** to **** a thought of a zeppelin... yhwh: or the hollowing-out, awaiting the god to lift us out... Pythagorean umlaut into a macron joinery... depending on your aesthetic... Kreisler schisser... twins anti avid, interchange s and z... Charlotte and sharpening, shearing and cheering, and so many excuses... the chard and the sh and the charcoal and the shattering of, of the chatter: cheap and sharp or the acute variations of śarp & ćeap... or what the first H represents: an upper punctuation marking, above the letter, Y or gamma γ vs. Υ (upsilon) in latter phrasing comma... or what's pinpointed with Y and what's later replicated in trigonometric W of sine and cosine, as is Y the tan divergence... excesses bound to later and latter... how to differentiate? the lay'ter from the latté of not mopping up the surd h and the vocalised h that's asphyxiating within catching breath asthmatic? people forgot punctuation in the same way they forgot diacritical markings but at least they got a pretty picture and dyslexia, and iconoclasm, and modern illiteracy; as said modern conspiracy theory: far **** away from 1990s cartoon network... everything you just said: doesn't prop a need for me to buy things; which is why, i guess, you need a drugs trade that's the alternative of consumerism.

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Nov 23, 2016

Nov 23, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

dāß gelb bōt

*whatever we speak, it's hardly going to be spoken of.* which means two kettles... mind you: target practise or as i mind the 2.4 of said: superman in Iowa... do i care to mind? well, **** me! they verse in acronym i.n.d.i.a. & c.h.i.n.a. akin to a billion... i'm tongue tied and heaving, das bōt... this doesn't help the aesthetic... with prolonging dies the excess o... kaiser schweizer min took! whatever that means, they say funny accents in **** to **** a thought of a zeppelin... yhwh: or the hollowing-out, awaiting the god to lift us out... Pythagorean umlaut into a macron joinery... depending on your aesthetic... Kreisler schisser... twins anti avid, interchange s and z... Charlotte and sharpening, shearing and cheering, and so many excuses... the chard and the sh and the charcoal and the shattering of, of the chatter: cheap and sharp or the acute variations of śarp & ćeap... or what the first H represents: an upper punctuation marking, above the letter, Y or gamma γ vs. Υ (upsilon) in latter phrasing comma... or what's pinpointed with Y and what's later replicated in trigonometric W of sine and cosine, as is Y the tan divergence... excesses bound to later and latter... how to differentiate? the lay'ter from the latté of not mopping up the surd h and the vocalised h that's asphyxiating within catching breath asthmatic? people forgot punctuation in the same way they forgot diacritical markings but at least they got a pretty picture and dyslexia, and iconoclasm, and modern illiteracy; as said modern conspiracy theory: far **** away from 1990s cartoon network... everything you just said: doesn't prop a need for me to buy things; which is why, i guess, you need a drugs trade that's the alternative of consumerism.

62

Shafts of light streamed through the half opened blinds The moon in its brimful bloom, Its silver light washed up the room Reflecting the light into my eyes. The faint sound of the gramophone playing Fritz Kreisler’s Liebesleid (Love's Sorrow). The walls threw back the echoes of the melody! I didn’t know why tears were gushing along with it. In a room full of white. With a music so rich. A solitary night. A solitary heart. Why always play Love’s Sorrow when you also have Love’s Joy? Maybe deep down My heart knew the cavernous melancholy henceforth. A.Hana

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Feb 24, 2021

Feb 24, 2021 at 10:16 AM UTC

Hana

Liebesleid

Shafts of light streamed through the half opened blinds The moon in its brimful bloom, Its silver light washed up the room Reflecting the light into my eyes. The faint sound of the gramophone playing Fritz Kreisler’s Liebesleid (Love's Sorrow). The walls threw back the echoes of the melody! I didn’t know why tears were gushing along with it. In a room full of white. With a music so rich. A solitary night. A solitary heart. Why always play Love’s Sorrow when you also have Love’s Joy? Maybe deep down My heart knew the cavernous melancholy henceforth. A.Hana

15

I found you in April, a lone cherry blossom Floating on the wind as the spring smiles. Your hands were oddly calloused, Your fingers scarred. You told me that you played The violin, and I told you, I played none. You played Chopin on the stage And the music was yellow, red and light. I saw the words in your music, And your words became mine. I saw colors within music, The image of spring after The last of summer's nights. Your favorite piece was Love's Sorrow, A piece you played like a lullaby. Although I couldn't understand Mozart, Kreisler and Liebeslied, I found meaning in every Note that your violin cried. Your pieces were embedded With the deepest loneliness, Hidden within the pitches, tone and sound. You eyes sparkled like the light Upon the bluest water Every time your bow touched The strings of your old and loved violin. And I'd remember how you looked So utterly beautiful, beautiful, beautiful During that one spring night.

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Apr 22, 2015

Apr 22, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC

rachel-colimbo

April Springs

I found you in April, a lone cherry blossom Floating on the wind as the spring smiles. Your hands were oddly calloused, Your fingers scarred. You told me that you played The violin, and I told you, I played none. You played Chopin on the stage And the music was yellow, red and light. I saw the words in your music, And your words became mine. I saw colors within music, The image of spring after The last of summer's nights. Your favorite piece was Love's Sorrow, A piece you played like a lullaby. Although I couldn't understand Mozart, Kreisler and Liebeslied, I found meaning in every Note that your violin cried. Your pieces were embedded With the deepest loneliness, Hidden within the pitches, tone and sound. You eyes sparkled like the light Upon the bluest water Every time your bow touched The strings of your old and loved violin. And I'd remember how you looked So utterly beautiful, beautiful, beautiful During that one spring night.

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