On the Piano: a sonnet

April 5, 2011
By videotaped GOLD, Geneva, New York
videotaped GOLD, Geneva, New York
19 articles 18 photos 14 comments

Favorite Quote:
"Hope and Memory have one daughter and her name is Art, and she has built her dwelling far from the desperate field where men hang out their garments upon forked boughs to be banners of battle. O beloved daughter of Hope and Memory, be with me for a little."
- The Celtic Twilight, W. B. Yeats


I slip into the music soft and slow.
My fingers fall upon the weighted keys,
caress and wander down the iv'ry bones.
I place myself inside this shim'ring peace.

These fragile melodies ensnare my ears,
and music tender played fills up my veins.
Bright colors and illusions now appear
and I feel home among these stricken strings.

It's soaring upwards, tumbling in flight;
It spreads its languid length throughout the room.
It's rigid, structured, drifting in the light
and lives and breathes and thinks all on its own.

Inside the music and the air, this space:
my heart soars in to find its rightful place.


The author's comments:
Freewrite / iambic pentameter exercise on the word "soft" as part of my Shakespeare class. I chose to flesh mine out a bit more.

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