Posts Tagged ‘musician’

Violinist Versus Time

Monday, April 16th, 2012

Weathered hands patiently adjust clothing
that hangs looser everyday
as time slowly wears away the very flesh of life
Whittling away with an ever persistent knife
That has had its blade at us since the beginning
molding us from this shapeless lump of clay
into something beautiful
only to continue cutting away
past the point of beauty
into the world of obsession and tradition
where we cut not because we must
but just because we know nothing else.

Just as she knows nothing else
than what she has done her entire life
Waking to leave a bed that has molded to fit her shape
to stare into a mirror stained with time
leaving it hard to distinguish her figure
from the dull glass reflecting into aging eyes
Dressing in all her best clothes
to greet each day with dignity
Leaving the house with a moment’s hesitation
at the door that divides her world
Looking back in to see if anything had changed
it never does.

Out on the streets she returns to the spot
where she always stands
a corner between a bakery and a restaurant
facing a street that never ceases to move
like the pumping of blood
the people are thrown forth to be dashed about
and clatter from one place to the next
Searching, Searching
but never finding because they seek
with closed eyes and blind hands
She shuffles slowly across this chaos
to recover her normal spot
holding with delicate the child of her life
The fruit of her labor
She sets it down on the cobbled street floor gently
opening it and delicately withdrawing
The weathered red violin

Nestled against her neck, safe and secure
she hovers the bow over the strings
just centimeters away from contact
Savoring the silence before sound
Lovingly she lets the bow embrace the strings
letting them sing together in harmony
as young lovers who never grow old
She closes her eyes and hears the symphonies of her time
hears the grand sounds of order being made from chaos
listens to the fading cacophony of the street
and is drawn away into her violin
like the guiding hand of her husband
at their very first dance

But the burden of age causes her to quake
shaking the once steady hands of a musician
transforming them into brittle bones
that bow close to breaking on the weight of time
the violin screams out uneven notes
without melody or harmony
just noise
noise like the busy streets
or the baker yelling out the window
or a waiter being scolded for dropped dishes
the chaos of the world
imprinted on each string
that wails as each note of the world is drawn upon
She hears it, she knows it
yet she continues to play
because in her mind the sound of symphonies
lost are almost regained

With shaking hands she persists
she knows nothing else than the feeling of the strings
vibrating with life under her touch
so she continues everyday
on her little corner
dressed in her best
never knowing which day will be her last
but still she plays
because like Time
she doesn’t know how to give up



Friday, April 6th, 2012

Music notes drop with concrete feet
To brick pavement crumbling underway
Finding footholds that slowly dissolve
Into the quicksand of time
Fading away into a generation that belongs
No where and to no one
Being dragged downward by the music notes
Cradled in your arms like anchors
That you refuse to let go
Clinging to as if it was life as it takes you away
Gripping onto stonewalls
Which crumble under the weight
Of a broken string as if hell rides on its heels
But there is nothing here
Just a musician pulling notes from the air
Like whispers from the breeze
Light and free they are caught from the wind
And tied to a string
Spun from clouds like a child’s dreams
A balloon floating away tied down by a thread
That separates it from freedom
By a fragile bond that quivers in the wind
The anchored note roams outward
With hope to stand again
But is reigned in before it can drift too far
Down the corridor of time
For a moment it will linger there
In the space before the next string is plucked
And the last fades away
The dying moment lingers with a sadness
That is tangible in the air
Suspended in a moment of being
That will never come again


The Starving Musician

Friday, October 23rd, 2009

I got this poem published in the school newspaper, for those that didn’t get to see it, here it is.

He plays the piano
Rocking back and forth
Cradling each note
Giving life
But holding onto each
For just a single moment
Before it is released
Sent out into the cold world
To die or survive
It all lay in fate’s hands
Not his
Not anymore
The artist, the musician
With starving eyes
And frantic fingers
He swayed
With his head held back
Listening to the birth
Of each note
As it sprung forth
From nothingness
But the barren plane of his soul
He breathed life
Into each ivory key
As his fingers danced
Playing a sad
Yet beautiful song
The song of the sirens
Set out at sea
The bewitching words
Of a long forgotten curse
The notes passed through
His ragged body
Each throb of his veins
Pushed tired blood and music
That begged for life
And took everything
From it’s living master
A master who would die
For his masterpiece
With bleeding fingers
Pressed against bone keys
Each print left
On the piano
Left it’s bloodied print
On his haunted soul
But when the music
Has finally left
He has nothing
Is nothing
But a starving artist
Deprived of paint
He has nothing left
He gave it all up
For his sacred art
His Bible of notes
Gave his heart and soul
And all else he could give
But his ears to listen
And his fingers to play
As he cradled each new life
And sent it away

Tags: , ,
Posted in Poetry |