- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Too Much Player Piano
Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.
You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.
Click here
blurred nights, casually wasted
peeking out from behind my eyes
like looking out rainy day car windows
too-fast drunken motion;
striving for grace in arms and legs
that want to separate at the joints
and tumble tired to the tile
you could play tunes for me in your heart
play silent witness,
play unspoken truth
play with me; lock up your
player piano heart, that does the
thinking for you, the piano you'll never
learn to play, the keys you'll never
tickle because they are too laced with tacks
and you are too afraid
bar's hot enough to wring sweat from
black hearted eightballs
too fast too loud too much
too tired to think straight
draped on a stool
i am damp laundry and
half drunk pitcher beer
falling all out of myself
too many nights, casually wasted
too many clock forgotten seconds and
pitchers of beer and too many noises
too much music too much dancing
too much player piano
- COMMENTS
TheRainManabout 18 years agoLots of high impact stuff, in need of polish.
The phrasing is good enough to warrant editing, even mini-editing word by word, to make it even crisper.
Anonymousabout 18 years agoCharacteristically sordid and weird! Powerful emotion, D.A., though it seems a little rough, yet. I think you can do more with the line breaking to enhance some imagery-- consider this strophe:
draped on a stool
i am damp laundry and
half drunk pitcher beer
broken like this:
draped on a stool i am
damp laundry and half drunk
pitcher beer
... which allows you to emphasize you and your condition instead of the stool and the beer.
Worth playing with.
Fly
Anonymousabout 18 years agoin the New Poems Review thread at Literotica's Poetry Feedback & Discussion forum
Anonymousabout 18 years agoDamn, this was good! I love these lines below. Without punctuation in certain places, it worked out very well. I almost feel you purposely did this. Excellent poetry!
thinking for you, the piano you'll never
learn to play, the keys you'll never
tickle because they are too laced with tacks
and you are too afraid
bar's hot enough to wring sweat from
black hearted eightballs
too fast too loud too much
too tired to think straight
