My aunt played the piano and I used to sit and listen to it.
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For All Pianos All Around The World
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anno piano twenty twelve
poem by Nicolas Grenier
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Piano {Klavier}
They say to me
Open this door
curiosity screams
Whatever could it be
Back behind that door
A piano
The keys are all dusty
The strings are all untuned
Back behind that door
At the piano
But she plays no more
It so long ago
On the piano
She's who I hear
She began to play
She took my breath away
She said to me too
That I'll stay with you
But it just seemed to be
She played alone for me
I poured her blood
On the fire of my rage
I locked up her shrine
They questioned in time
At the piano
She's who I hear
She began to play
She took my breath away
At the piano
I stand by her
But it just seemed to be
She played alone for me
They opened up the door
And how they cried
I heard her mother plea
her father struck out at me
They tore her from her chair
No one believed me there
I was so insane
With the strech and the pain
At the piano
She's who I hear
She began to play
She took my breath away
At the piano
She's who I hear
As I began to play
I took her breath away
song performed by by Rammstein
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Old Upright Piano
For as long as I remember, when friday night came round
The family would gather out at grandpas house.
With supper over and the dishes done
It was then the best time came
At an old upright piano that only grandma played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
Grandpa was a stubborn man, they said it was his style.
Grandma called him ornery, but she said it with a smile.
Even he could not disguise the love he felt so strong;
We all could see it in his eyes when she played his favorite song.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
I was almost 17 when my grandma died;
I stayed all night with grandpa; the old man never cried.
He sat at her piano, there was nothing we could say
It was the first time in my life I ever heard my grandpa play.
It wasnt beautiful dreamer or my wild irish rose
It was a song he played from memory & he never missed a note
I sat right there beside him until the morning came
What a friend we have in jesus was the only song he played.
She played beautiful dreamer, my wild irish rose;
She never played em perfect, but there was love in every note.
Grandpa sat beside her, in harmony they sang,
At the old upright piano that only grandma played.
song performed by by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And I've played piano since I was little, so I was originally the piano player in the band.
quote by Caroline Corr
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I've written lots of songs on the piano. My mother had a piano and it was the first instrument I played.
quote by Mick Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'm quite proud of my piano playing. Robin's never played a note on the piano at our recording sessions. I just wish I could be appreciated musically now.
quote by Maurice Gibb
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Failed Musician
Failed Musician?
My uncle died, he was on holiday in Piraeus when a pig fell off
a balcony, he left a piano and since his wife didn’t want it in her
house, mother took it, only because it would lend an impression
of high culture, and no one else in our neighbourhood had one.
I played on it day and night, picked up tunes on radio and played
them on the piano; people where impressed, mother too, but she
needed her rest worked long hours at a canning factory; one day,
coming home from school, a big empty space, I cried mother gave
me Danish pastry, they were a day old but still tasty. I’m glad she
sold the piano, though I might have ended up a restaurant pianist
driving from town to town playing evergreens as background music
for bored diners
poem by Oskar Hansen
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At My Aunt's Unveiling
AT MY AUNT’S UNVEILING
At my aunt’s unveiling
There were five of us
Only five
One was a woman
A friend of hers
Not the closest one
But someone who knew her
And wanted to be a friend.
Thousands of people had known my aunt
Hundreds had worked with or for her
She was born into a large family
But all of them were gone
Or out of it.
My sister and I were the relatives
My aunt had been very generous to us
And difficult for my sister
Who cared for her.
I had only been a taker all the years.
My aunt worked so hard for so many years
And she was ‘somebody’ in her world
There were five of us there
And the ceremony short
No minyan.
There was no sign of my aunt’s smile
Or her nervous energy or her superabundant love
‘Moll ‘as my mother called her
was not there.
I see her so clearly in my mind now
‘What does it all mean? ’ my father would ask my mother
after reading of the death of another person they knew
‘What does it all mean’
When my sister and I go
The memory of my aunt
Will be gone forever.
poem by Shalom Freedman
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The typewriting machine, when played with expression, is no more annoying than the piano when played by a sister or near relation.
quote by Oscar Wilde
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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That Old Piano
On a lonely corner of an old house
A permanent feature for a decade
An old piano played the living witness
Of singing and dancing till the wee hours
in the morning
Grandma and Mama made the house turn around
Playing old familiar boogie, waltz and mambo sounds
Kids just played around
Munching goodies, cookies and cakes
Oh, ... those happy days
Seeing that old piano, the living witness
Holding back these tears
But life is what is all about..
poem by Meggie Gultiano
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See my father knew a lot about music, he played the piano and he would do theory and stuff like that, but I didn't learn anything from him, but I played that for him and he liked it a lot.
quote by John Fahey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Aunt Tabitha
THE YOUNG GIRL'S POEM
WHATEVER I do, and whatever I say,
Aunt Tabitha tells me that is n't the way;
When she was a girl (forty summers ago)
Aunt Tabitha tells me they never did so.
Dear aunt! If I only would take her advice!
But I like my own way, and I find it so nice
And besides, I forget half the things I am told;
But they all will come back to me--when I am old.
If a youth passes by, it may happen, no doubt,
He may chance to look in as I chance to look out;
She would never endure an impertinent stare,--
It is horrid, she says, and I must n't sit there.
A walk in the moonlight has pleasures, I own,
But it is n't quite safe to be walking alone;
So I take a lad's arm,--just for safety, you know,--
But Aunt Tabitha tells me they did n't do so.
How wicked we are, and how good they were then!
They kept at arm's length those detestable men;
What an era of virtue she lived in!--But stay--
Were the men all such rogues in Aunt Tabitha's day?
If the men were so wicked, I 'll ask my papa
How he dared to propose to my darling mamma;
Was he like the rest of them? Goodness! Who knows?
And what shall I say, if a wretch should propose?
I am thinking if Aunt knew so little of sin,
What a wonder Aunt Tabitha's aunt must have been!
And her grand-aunt--it scares me--how shockingly sad
That we girls of to-day are so frightfully bad!
A martyr will save us, and nothing else can;
Let me perish--to rescue some wretched young man!
Though when to the altar a victim I go,
Aunt Tabitha 'll tell me she never did so.
poem by Oliver Wendell Holmes
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I had been inspired by an organ player named Earl Grant, who played organ and piano together. My mom took me to see him. So I went home, put my piano and organ together, too.
quote by Billy Preston
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Why This Song
Why this song, filled with laughter and hope,
Why should it be loved and while a dope,
Why should it be played on the top,
Why should I listen why should I love.
It is played silently and you listen,
It is closer heard as chosen,
It is much louder when open,
It is I listening, it is I loving.
It is there when called,
It is here when drowned,
It is there when cried,
It is here when afraid.
Why should I love, why should I Listen.
poem by Dickson Mseti
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Uncle Norm And Aunt Audrey
As a child I remember those days
when Aunt Audrey would come from faraway.
Aunt Audrey was tall and wore jewelry like rings
she brought gifts and interesting things.
Aunt Audrey lived in Japan, the far east
she had an interesting life to say the least.
Her daughters Marlena and Renee
had played with us for a couple of days.
Then they would leave on a plane
I would see them again at an older age.
Uncle Norm I also saw when I was young
we traveled to Rhode Island when I was age 1.
Then I would see Aunt Audrey & Norm
in the Sunshine State—
they lived in a development with wooden gates.
I celebrate Christmas and the holidays
with them, Marlena and Renee.
Celebrate with them on Christmas day
they have children now who live on
the west coast in the Golden State.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on April 9,2012
poem by Christina Sunrise
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The Grand Piano
The grand piano stood in the corner
no longer played anymore.
Once it stood under the spotlights
in crowded concert halls.
Famous musicians from around the world
sat and played concertos
and solo arias with soft melodic tones.
Each note graced lovely
from eagerly expectant ears.
Now the crowds have disappeared,
loving fingers no longer graced
its black and white keys.
The grand piano just stands alone
locked with memories
of the great old days.
25 October 2008
poem by David Harris
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Uncle Norm And Aunt Audrey
As a child I remember those days
when Aunt Audrey would come from faraway.
Aunt Audrey was tall and wore jewelry like rings
she brought gifts and interesting things.
Aunt Audrey lived in Japan, the far east
she had an interesting life to say the least.
Her daughters Marlena and Renee
had played with us for a couple of days.
Then they would leave on a plane
I would see them again at an older age.
Uncle Norm I also saw when I was young
we traveled to Rhode Island when I was age 1.
Then I would see Aunt Audrey & Norm
in the sunshine state—
they lived in a development with wooden gates.
I celebrate Christmas and the holidays
with them, Marlena and Renee.
Cousin Marlena and Renee
have children now who live on
the west coast in the Golden State.
Written by Suzae Chevalier on April 9,2012
poem by Suzae Chevalier
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Grandma's Old Piano Was Sold
grandma's piano is old.
she died ten years ago
being the second wife of grandpa.
my mother is her second child
that she sent to piano school
but father found her and married
her when she was still 18.
and i was born as their fourth
child. Mother knows how to play
the moonlight sonata which father
loves to listen at night when
i learn how to smile and laugh.
One day Papa found another woman
whom he said made him new again
and he left Mama.
One day Mama died and Papa married
that woman.
One day i left home.
One day the piano was sold
One day the piano was taken to another
town so far away from us.
One day, all these things, the piano, Papa
and my step mother are forgotten.
But then the Moonlight Sonata comes again
One night
From another piano nearby.
The keys are no longer made
From elephant tusks like grandma's old piano.
Not the off white of ivory.
So white and smooth like a well brushed teeth
of a very young boy.
I like to hear it when he learns
how to gnash.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A guitar riff played on a piano doesn't come close to the purity of it being played on a guitar but I faked it enough to get by.
quote by Barry Mann
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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about the ash from Yuri N., she writes it
I once knew
a lady at our church
who played the piano -
Her name was Naomi...
she was quiet,
maybe insignificant...
but I knew her
(only from church) ...
when I heard one Sunday
that she had died
and had been buried
without me knowing,
I grieved for days....
that was 8 years ago...
I still sometimes
think of her,
thinking that,
in some way
she enriched my life -
I cannot remember
her piano-playing,
but I still grieve
nevertheless....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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