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Mahogany Violin

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There it is across dad's desk,
As if nagging like a pesk.
Pick up the mahogany bow,
How to play you don't know.
Pick up the mahogany match,
Both have not one scratch.
The bow you rosen up,
As though most precious a holy cup.
You start with a gentle pull across,
Being too hasty could be a loss.
Then sweet sound of string,
Like first berries of spring.
So addictive is this sound,
You carry on and love is found.
Quicker and quicker you pull,
Melodic notes beat your heart full.
Then all at once a clap you hear,
It is an angry dad you fear.
But he comes to you with the fiddle,
In your head assume knowing the riddle.
Tears in his eyes as you look up at him,
Says: "You deserve my mahogany violin.





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This article has 4 comments. Post your own now!

Powd3er said...
Feb. 9, 2010 at 2:55 pm
This poem has great flow and insight.
I really enjoyed it.
Lovely poem darling =]
-Please check out the works that I have posted on here it would be highly appreciated and I think you would greatly enjoy them, Thankk youz-
XxIll tell you Im an orphan after you meet myy familyXx
 
CountryGothic replied...
Feb. 10, 2010 at 9:12 am
I'm glad you liked it!
 
abeatlesfan65 said...
Jan. 30, 2010 at 8:55 pm
I like it! It's got great flow, and you really do a good job of conveying how you feel. Submit more poems, please, as many as you've got! This one's great! Also, (I bet you knew this was coming) could you check out a few of my own poems? Thanks!
 
CountryGothic replied...
Feb. 6, 2010 at 5:39 pm
Of course I will check out your poems. Thank you so much for your comments! :)
 
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