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Literature Text
Closing her eyes
Drawing the bow across the string
Tears swell
As the notes begin to ring
A deep forlorn note
Sorrowful and low
Echoes from the violin
Passionate and slow
She tells her sad story
On the wistful winds
As a grim lament
For her lover lost begins
The melody is bitter sweet
Full of passion and pain
Reaching its crescendo
In the fiery refrain
This is how she has learned
to make it through the night
Telling her story to the stars
Reading the notes by moonlight
Drawing the bow across the string
Tears swell
As the notes begin to ring
A deep forlorn note
Sorrowful and low
Echoes from the violin
Passionate and slow
She tells her sad story
On the wistful winds
As a grim lament
For her lover lost begins
The melody is bitter sweet
Full of passion and pain
Reaching its crescendo
In the fiery refrain
This is how she has learned
to make it through the night
Telling her story to the stars
Reading the notes by moonlight
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
Violin
The weathered wood felt velvety soft against the girl's pale cheek as she held the delicate instrument to her face to inhale its musky scent. She ran her thin fingers over the grooves and dents, as if following a map to her destiny. In many ways she felt as if she were.
With the gentleness of a mother holding her newborn, she nestled the violin under her chin. Each metal string was plucked once with careful precision, checking for the clear, clean tone, which called out to her very soul. It was perfect.
The girl inhaled, pausing in that crucial moment before the frag
Literature
Cello
Tremble once,
Twice, and maybe once again.
And I'm looking around me now.
Gothic buildings stretch and yawn,
Across an aching sky.
She knows how I feel.
As you watch me from above,
Gargoyled and ghouled,
I know it's you.
Does she see me?
The strings scrape against the bow.
Hairs splitting as it plays a familiar river,
Earth whipped up into milky pools,
Of desire.
Of desire.
And I'm looking around me now.
The walking wood is bending to let me through.
Warped. I never thought I'd see it this way,
But still you sit watching over me.
Gnarled and hunched over, you ring no bells.
You have no name,
I know it's you.
And steel ag
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Music is one of the best ways to express youself, too bad i'm not as skilled as i would like to be.
I will be editing this to add a preview image, eventually, whenever my internet actually gets fixed. but i have a lovely shot of my violin, it was the inspiration after all...
I will be editing this to add a preview image, eventually, whenever my internet actually gets fixed. but i have a lovely shot of my violin, it was the inspiration after all...
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lol im in 6th going to 7th grade right now.violin is a very big deal to me