I play the piano and have been playing since I was 7, mainly classical Chopin, Beethoven, Mozart.
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Classical Music
Classical music makes me cry
Each time I hear a piece
My heart wells up with so much joy
Until music cease Chopin, Beethoven, and Mozart too
Make the inner sole want to sing
It makes me happy to hear the notes
To each note my heart wants to cling Classical music has never meant so much
To me until to Europe I went
But now it brings overwhelming joy
Many hours of listening are spent What a wondrous talent the writers did have
Of the Classicals I listen to each day
The joy it brings to many of us
Will last forever each day that it's played.
poem by Sharon Wiseman
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I got obsessed with classical music, I got obsessed with Chopin, with playing the piano.
quote by Gary Oldman
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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If you go to Japan for instance, you should know that they have a different way of playing Beethoven or Brahms. But if you play with them Mozart, Debussy, Mendelssohn, they have a wonderful light feeling for that.
quote by Kurt Masur
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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For All Pianos All Around The World
pi
piano
piano use
piano key
piano roll
piano wire
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piano brand name
anno piano twenty twelve
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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Through Paris 1970
As you rode through Paris
in the packed coach
the radio played
Beethoven's Piano Concerto #5
and Mamie
sat beside you
her head to one side
sleeping
her mouth open
like some fish
out of water
her hands tucked
between her thighs
her blue skirt
riding high
and the slow movement
of the Beethoven piece
began
the piano playing softy
as the bright lights
of Paris
lit up
the dull space
inside the coach
and you closed your eyes
laying a hand
surreptiously
over hers
hearing the piano
and orchestra
as if in a dream
and Mamie
never minded
your hand
on hers
or so you thought then
and as now
it would seem.
poem by Terry Collett
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Unheard Music
Unheard Music (Mozart)
The fingers on my left hand move all by themselves
like they are playing piano that produces music
I cannot hear. I watch my fingers play but it makes no
sense so I try to stop by holding them still with my
right hand’s fingers. So I sit like a vicar contemplating
the Sunday sermon, a mild one who hasn’t an arsenal
of fire and brimstone speeches, but would rather talk
about the coming spring. My wife brings me a glass of
water and a pill, fingers rest, but I would liked to have
heard the music they played, for all I know it could
have been music brought to me in a dream by Mozart
who died so young that he can’t believe it yet, and
tries trough, me to play his latest masterpiece.
poem by Oskar Hansen
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Personally, I think young musicians need to learn to play more than one style. Jazz can only enhance the classical side, and classical can only enhance the jazz. I started out playing classical, because you have to have that as a foundation.
quote by Doc Severinsen
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Roll over Beethoven
She loves her classical music does Val
as Tchaikovsky helps her to unwind
then again so does Handel as well
and a bit of Stravinsky she doesn't mind.
She's in heaven listening to Bach
and dreamland to the sounds of Debussy
Mendelssohn sends her all of a quiver
but Borodin too so she's not that fussy.
Beethoven is another favourite though
but Ravel's Bolero she reckons is tops
she dances around her house when it's on
and even when she's down at the shops.
But she likes the volume up really high
especially when it's Mozart or Liszt
but this upsets her next door neighbour
who bangs on the wall with his fist.
So the next time you hear loud classical music
that'll probably be coming from Val Dohrens house
but don't worry she'll be doing her housework
while waltzing about to the sounds of Strauss!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The Game of Life
Games people perform in this life-
Playing Chopin’s waltz on the baby grand piano- I am a believer.
My father stood still- whip in hand.
A big black cat carrying a crimson red trunk entered my room past the midnight hour
Dumping live boa constrictors atop my bed- although I only saw soap bubbles emerge before from the gates of heaven’s past.
In my mind I still can hear Chopin’s waltz playing on our baby grand piano-
I listen to voices that aren’t even real-
My father giving orders- he was once a soldier.
My mother’s negligence screams and
Stabs me with her cruel and toxic words-
My father passed in the springtime.
Roses and wild violets grow freely- in the back of my mind.
I never promised anybody flowers- only music-
Games that people play are what life is all about-
My thoughts are spinning out of control-as are Saturn’s rings.
Our baby grand piano is out of tune-
I do not care- I sing an opera solo-off key though gently-
The wind is blowing outside at hurricane strength-
The power just went out.
I am in the dark- as I dream, and I dream-
My hands are still playing the baby grand piano-
Out of tune as it may be-
The back door to my mind’s prison is locked-
Life is a gamble- my thoughts have spun out of control-
I dance the tango in the woodlands where
Oak trees and evergreens have fallen-
But I foresee no moonlight-
I gave my father no flowers;
I play him Chopin’s waltz on the baby grand piano-
I know he can hear as souls never die-
I can listen to my dreams –
I hear my father’s orders and my mother’s wrathful vengeance-
I never promised them flowers and
They never promised me the world- I was invisible-in the eyes of millions-
I hear angry voices echo about- nature’s bounty-
Life is a venture, but
My soul shall reap its reward
Before hell’s brush fire is extinguished-
Can you hear the music playing and
The lonesome screaming of the deceased?
I can only hear a neighboring car alarm sounding as too many days have passed since
the doorbell sounded and fog has lifted-
Rain is falling into a bloodbath. –
Where extraterrestrials are inclined to exist-
I am a believer…my soul shall live on.
Can you hear the calling of the wilderness?
Only where mountains meet with the horizon and
I keep on searching for rainbows in a fleeting moment?
poem by Claudia Krizay
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Friends Within The Darkness
I can remember starving in a
small room in a strange city
shades pulled down, listening to
classical music
I was young I was so young it hurt like a knife
inside
because there was no alternative except to hide as long
as possible--
not in self-pity but with dismay at my limited chance:
trying to connect.
the old composers -- Mozart, Bach, Beethoven,
Brahms were the only ones who spoke to me and
they were dead.
finally, starved and beaten, I had to go into
the streets to be interviewed for low-paying and
monotonous
jobs
by strange men behind desks
men without eyes men without faces
who would take away my hours
break them
piss on them.
now I work for the editors the readers the
critics
but still hang around and drink with
Mozart, Bach, Brahms and the
Bee
some buddies
some men
sometimes all we need to be able to continue alone
are the dead
rattling the walls
that close us in.
Anonymous submission.
poem by Charles Bukowski
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I play piano and trumpet. I studied classical guitar.
quote by Mike Figgis
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Heart Is Tuned Up Like A Piano
this heart is tuned up - like a piano
well for the right person to come along
to entrance me with magical notes
every move evoking a gamut of emotions
echoing a transient brahms...rain and mist in dream
a conservative yet unrestrainingly stylish mozart
two lovers waltzing through the night
a scintillating and delightful as dawn break chopin
two children mimicking shelley's swallow's trill
a trailblazing tchaikovsky haunting with russian plain and pain
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Day the Piano Came
His fingers caressed the new, shiny keys, pulling out the strings
of Chopin melodies and chords that tugged at the heart.
We had never heard anything so beautiful as the gentle notes
that rolled into my ears, soft and warm. I shivered
in this warmth. It was too beautiful. This man
was a genius, bringing us this new and beautiful happiness.
That night, while everyone slept, I crept downstairs
and sat at the new piano. The smooth white glistened
under my curious fingertips. They itched to play.
This was a real piano.
I had never seen such an elegantly monstrous instrument,
and it was right here, in my house, under my fingers.
I was wrapped in bliss that night, and in the years
that followed, that silent piano brought me peace.
poem by Zoe Guillory
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Amadeus Mozart, con.k-365
What they adore
Is his genius
His music
Soaring to the heavens
Without so much
Effort
Effortlessly magnificent
Amadeus Mozart
And his music
Tossing me
From sea cap to sea cap
In my sea dreams
Piano notes ruffling
Like the windy beach
Waffling to the shore
Piano notes
Trickling
On my window pane
Like a soft rain
Playful
To the vines
On my window pane
What they adore
Is his genius
Soaring to the heavens
I envy him
Amadeus Mozart
His music grows like a river forever flowing
I do not mind if in there I drown
And die with a single note
He died in the sea drinking all the salty notes
Of Amadeus Mozart
Dehydration in the most musical fashion.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Pianists Heaven
A piano in the background
playing
A pianist in his heaven
in which I shall never step foot
I know no feeling of heaven
nor of a kingdom to believe in
This piano shall be forgotten
but its player will not
He will play his way to his heaven
and shall not be forgotten
nor shall I forget him
nor shall his piano
poem by Andrew Westermann
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I believe in God, Mozart, and Beethoven.
quote by Richard Wagner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Poetry At Night Time And Beethoven's Piano Music
this is like playing the piano pieces
at night when everyone in the neighborhood is already sleeping,
they wonder if there is a ghost in this house
someone that cannot accept death someone that claims
an unfinished business
still roaming in limbo and plays the piano at night
they are all disturbed and will close their windows earlier
turn off the lights and retreat inside their thick blankets
the piano is heard and it is playing some pieces of Beethoven
the story of his death...
it is not the same with your poetry
all night long, you write, and there is no stopping and the neighbors think
that everything is all right
that the lights are on because there is a baby in the house
it is you that sob silently inside the limbo of your dreams
that refuse to die
roaming the streets at night
breathing the cold in the darkness
the following morning, nothing is changed
the neighbors as usual do their normal activities
the street is heavy with traffic
people are busy chasing the hours
and there is no stopping anymore.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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...the Official Bulletin declared that the Poles should be as proud of me as the Germans are of Mozart; obvious nonsense.
quote by Frederic Chopin
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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I bought a piano once because I had the dream of playing As Time Goes By as some girl's leaning on it drinking a martini. Great image. But none of it worked out. I can't even play Chopsticks. But I've got a nice piano at my house!
quote by George Clooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I play piano and guitar. Acoustic guitar. I tried studying classical guitar when I was 16 but it got really hard. I could never play a lead to save my life.
quote by Kip Winger
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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