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Literature Text
Listen to a chorus
Of one thousand screaming crows
Sing melancholy songs
In the fallen snow
Adorned in ivory plume
Of empty despair
Looking for a hope
In the winter air
Sadly it sings
It’s depressing tune
Praying for love
Alone beneath the moon.
Of one thousand screaming crows
Sing melancholy songs
In the fallen snow
Adorned in ivory plume
Of empty despair
Looking for a hope
In the winter air
Sadly it sings
It’s depressing tune
Praying for love
Alone beneath the moon.
Literature
Viola
A large violin? I think not, fool
Nor am I a tiny cello
And the ones who pluck me, play my strings
Are decidedly more mellow
Inferior? I scoff at this
Because my numbers are few?
Because of lame jokes infinite?
Well, I'll teach you a thing or two
The firsts have egos that fill a sea
The seconds aren't much better
They always rush, embellish and prance
Can't follow their music to the letter
The cellos drone deep and much too loud
"Play soft?" they ask, "Too hard!"
The bassi we like and love because
We're both held sans regard
So now that the idiots (save the doubles, of course)
Have been given their fair due
I'll tell you wha
Literature
The Horn
Recently, someone asked me why I play the horn.
I smiled when I found I could answer truthfully,
Yet the answer was not something I could fully put into words.
So instead, I put it into a story.
A short poem, if you will,
The love that is known simply as the horn.
The horn leaves a feeling of the deepest emotions capable of our race.
Pain, sorrow, joy and triumph can be expressed through its curves,
Leaving you in tears, or laughing in its embrace.
A bond between a musician and their horn is something special,
Never to be replicated in any other passionate embrace.
It is a bond that only the horn player – and the horn – k
Literature
Violin
Although in velvet darkness now
My body has been laid,
I dream of when the time will come
That I will soon be played.
I rest in lifeless silence like
A corpse within a tomb,
Awaiting heaven's sunny bliss
But doomed to bide in gloom.
Inside my frame of steel and wood,
My soul resounds with song.
I yearn to let it soar upon
The stage where I belong.
I want to shine beneath the lights
And show the world my art.
I want to seize the chance to play
The music from my heart.
For someday, worn by use and time,
I shall be cast aside.
No longer will I grace the stage
Aglow with joyous pride.
Then I'll be locked away, until
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Comments7
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Whoa, deja vu. Did I already read this?
Yeah for Bethanne's poetry!
And hello, J.P.
Yeah for Bethanne's poetry!
And hello, J.P.