by sack
I have never read a more lyrical description of playing an instrument than this poem. It is so true ~ we don't play the music - the music plays us. What a delightful way to capture the Elusive - the Beautiful.
I sometimes wish I could play at least four chords on my guitar. I envy you.
"Notes spill on the floor like ants" is a great line, by the way.
feel the text as it spun
across the page,
leaving notes alive
playing in my head,
and the last verse ,
... a chorus,
of AWE.....
-sGp-
the notes tinkling as they fall off the page, over the ivory and down to the pedals, sustained for that breathless moment
and fall.
Carrie
is filled with wonderful visual images and builds so that I hear the music and the musician's frenzy until he is overtaken by the music. Beautiful take on art and creativity though I think you should take out some of the parts that say how you feel and just let those images work the poem for you. It would be even stronger then.
isn't all you've done here, sack. The real playing has been done with your words - and very cleverly as this reader discovered at poem's end. Great job!
Vixxx
Got it right this time. A little loose towards the end,
but the flow and emotion is great.