July 22, 2009
By Anonymous

It is made of wood,
It is four-stringed,
It can be bowed,
Plucked, or pinged.
Wooden, shiny,
The grace is
Plucking lightly,
Bowing long,
A cello is
Itself a song.
With strings of silver
And bow of white,
The beauty shines
Throughout the night.
The spotlight’s on me
As I adjust,
Playing the cello
Is a must.
My palms are all sweaty,
There’s a ringing in my ears,
But as I strike the first note,
I let go of my fears.
The music swells
Inside my heart,
All eyes watching
My solo part.
I press the strings
Beneath my fingers,
The song’s almost done,
But the beauty still lingers.

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This article has 2 comments.

on Feb. 6 2010 at 1:38 pm
starrymusic BRONZE, STL, Missouri
1 article 0 photos 5 comments

Favorite Quote:
"The only way to deal with an unfree world is to become so absolutely free that your very existence is an act of rebellion."

"Life is what happens while we're busy making other plans." - John Lennon

Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I've played the cello for 7ish years. Cellists rock. (:

on Feb. 6 2010 at 1:15 am
SassieCassie322 BRONZE, Encino, California
1 article 0 photos 104 comments
i did a search on teen ink to see if there were any stories or art works on/about the cello. then i came across this. it is an absolutely BEAUTIFUL poem. it is so simple, yet so insightful and meaningful. i am a cellist and have been for 11 years now (since 1st grade) and i just loved this. i now want to show this to my cello teacher. i'm sure she will love it. keep on writing and inspiring us. GREAT JOB!!!!


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