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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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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The Player Piano
I ate pancakes one night in a Pancake House
Run by a lady my age. She was gay.
When I told her that I came from Pasadena
She laughed and said, "I lived in Pasadena
When Fatty Arbuckle drove the El Molino bus."
I felt that I had met someone from home.
No, not Pasadena, Fatty Arbuckle.
Who's that? Oh, something that we had in common
Like -- like -- the false armistice. Piano rolls.
She told me her house was the first Pancake House
East of the Mississippi, and I showed her
A picture of my grandson. Going home --
Home to the hotel -- I began to hum,
"Smile a while, I bid you sad adieu,
When the clouds roll back I'll come to you."
Let's brush our hair before we go to bed,
I say to the old friend who lives in my mirror.
I remember how I'd brush my mother's hair
Before she bobbed it. How long has it been
Since I hit my funnybone? had a scab on my knee?
Here are Mother and Father in a photograph,
Father's holding me.... They both look so young.
I'm so much older than they are. Look at them,
Two babies with their baby. I don't blame you,
You weren't old enough to know any better;
If I could I'd go back, sit down by you both,
And sign our true armistice: you weren't to blame.
I shut my eyes and there's our living room.
The piano's playing something by Chopin,
And Mother and Father and their little girl
Listen. Look, the keys go down by themselves!
I go over, hold my hands out, play I play --
If only, somehow, I had learned to live!
The three of us sit watching, as my waltz
Plays itself out a half-inch from my fingers.
poem by Randall Jarrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love A Piano
[1st verse:]
As a child I went wild when a band played
How I ran to the man when his hand swayed
Clarinets were my pets, and a slide trombone I thought was simply
Divine
But today when they play I could hiss them
Evry bar is a jar to my system
But theres one musical instrument that I call mine
[chorus:]
I love a piano, I love a piano
I love to hear somebody play
Upon a piano, a grand piano
It simply carries me away
I know a fine way to treat a steinway
I love to run my fingers oer the keys, the ivories
And with the pedal I love to meddle
When padarewski comes this way
Im so delighted if Im invited
To hear that long haired genius play
So you can keep your fiddle and your bow
Give me a p-i-a-n-o, oh, oh
I love to stop right beside an upright
Or a high toned baby grand
[2nd verse:]
When a green tetrazine starts to warble
I grow cold as an old piece of marble
I allude to the crude little party singer who dont know when to pause
At her best I detest the soprano
But I run to the one at the piano
I always love the accompniment and thats because
song performed by by Irving Berlin
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
piano note
pianoforte
piano store
piano pedal
piano bench
piano effect
piano sound
piano string
piano mover
piano maker
piano music
piano action
piano player
piano lesson
piano design
piano course
piano soloist
piano tuning
piano recital
piano replica
piano sonata
piano rhythm
piano sample
piano teacher
piano program
piano concerto
piano repertoire
piano brand name
anno piano twenty twelve
poem by Nicolas Grenier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Hear Her Playing Music
I hear her playing music
In her room alone at night
She just moved in a month ago
She isn't gonna play the game
I though she'd smile
And come on slow
I still don't even know her name
She must like being lonely
Got no time for anyone
But I hear her play that stereo
Right through to the rising sun
I hear her playing music
In her room alone all night
Through the day she's so elusive
Staying safe and out of sight
If you say hello she lets it go
Cool and so polite
And I hear her playing music
In her room alone at night
Baby are you sad and lonely
Or did somebody do you wrong
'Cause I know that you need only
Look my way
And they'll play our song
And I love your nightly music
But you can't keep playing through
'Cause I'm having trouble sleeping
And when I do I dream of you
I thought I'd try and break the freeze
And win her heart with harmony
So I answered back
And played a stack of my favorite CD's
But she just doesn't hear me
Doesn't have a word to say
So I stay awake and turn it up
Hoping she'll look out my way
I hear her playing music
In her room alone at night
Through the day she's so elusive
Staying safe and out of sight
If you say hello she lets it go
Cool and so polite
And I hear her playing Dave Koz
In her room alone at night
In her room alone at night
Baby are you sad and lonely
Baby won't you tell me your name
I'm in my room alone at night
You're in your room alone at night
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Heaven
The piano played its final tune
And strings got torn in two
And the old lady sang her final song
As her grand-daughter cried all way through
It's the end of a chapter
An era in time
The piano lid closes
The old lady shuts her eyes
And drifts to a land far away
The last generation ends
But doesn't go to waste
It's a sad story that happens all the time
Unfortunately......
But one day this old lady will open her eyes, sing again
And the piano will mend it's strings and play again
And her grand-daughter will hear this song
And smile..... instead of cry
She'll smile again.
poem by Lucy Vernezze
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Eternity Means Forever
Have I been living too long in this world I was born into or
Am I struggling to come to terms with my life in a fabricated world, as I hear
Voices of many I have never heard before interrupted by
The reproaching voices of my mother and of my father?
Voices so angry and replete with disapproval
Overpower the music of
Angels that are singing love songs and hymns of praise only to me?
I see the world through clouded lenses and
When the rain falls, it obliterates what I do not care to see- although
When I close my eyes and look through imaginary lenses-
I see pink clouds, purple mountains and a rainbow-
I perceive the sun dancing to a delightful minuet on the horizon-
I feel a gentle breeze breaking the oppressive heat of the summer
That inundates that world I do not care to live in?
My mind is spinning about in a vicious spiral-
I cannot distinguish reality from the world into which I am trying to escape?
My mother and my father had always looked through blinders
Unable to see or to accept the person I truly am and
As far back as I remember I heard only words of disapproval
As I never lived up to their idealistic expectations?
In all suddenness I have come to realize that
Their bodies and their souls have disappeared from this vicinity
Although I am still trying to discern veracity?
I hear the rustling of leaves on the trees that surround me and now, as
I tell myself that pink clouds and purple mountains do not exist in reality-
But in my reality, they do exist, so I mount my phantasmal unicorn and ride into the place
Where that rainbow awaits me as I sing hymns with the angels
To the tune of that minuet played by a chorus of nightingales-
I know now what is real is that I have abandoned the reality
I had once seen through clouded lenses
Now comprehending that my mother and father are alive only
In some other far away place in time-while
I have been reborn into a world of my dreams from which
I never care to awaken- angry disapproving voices shall never overpower my thoughts
Because I have chained the door to their existence-
I shall proudly keep riding that unicorn and
Continue singing in chorus with the angels and nightingales,
Until eternity casts its magical shadow upon my horizon, but everyone knows that
Eternity means forever-
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Cry Baby Cry
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better.
The king of marigold was in the kitchen
Cooking breakfast for the queen
The queen was in the parlour
Playing piano for the children of the king.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
The king was in the garden
Picking flowers for a friend who came to play
The queen was in the playroom
Painting pictures for the childrens holiday.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
The duchess of kircaldy always smiling
And arriving late for tea
The duke was having problems
With a message at the local bird and bee.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
At twelve o'clock a meeting round the table
For a seance in the dark
With voices out of nowhere
Put on specially by the children for a lark.
Cry baby cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry cry cry cry baby
Make your mother sigh.
She's old enough to know better
Cry baby cry
Cry cry cry
Make your mother sigh
She's old enough to know better
So cry baby cry.
song performed by by Beatles
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Gettin In Tune
Im singing this note cause it fits in well
Im singing this note cause it fits in well
With the chords Im playing
With the chords Im playing
I cant pretend theres any meaning here
I cant pretend theres any meaning here
Or in the things Im saying
Or in the things Im saying
But Im in tune
But Im in tune
Right in tune
Right in tune
Im in tune
Im in tune
And Im gonna tune
And Im gonna tune
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
Right in on you
I get a little tired of having to say
I get a little tired of having to say
do you come here often?
Do you come here often?
But when I look in your eyes and see the harmonies
But when I look in your eyes and see the harmonies
And the heartaches soften
And the heartaches soften
Im getting in tune
Im getting in tune
Right in tune
Right in tune
Im in tune
Im in tune
And Im gonna tune
And Im gonna tune
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you
Right in on you
Ive got it all here in my head
Ive got it all here in my head
Theres nothing more needs to be said
Theres nothing more needs to be said
Im just bangin on my old piano
Im just bangin on my old piano
Im getting in tune with the straight and narrow
Im getting in tune with the straight and narrow
(getting in tune with the straight and narrow)
(getting in tune with the straight and narrow)
Getting in tune with the straight and narrow
Getting in tune with the straight and narrow
(getting in tune with the straight and narrow)
(getting in tune with the straight and narrow)
Yeah, Im getting in tune with the straight and narrow
Yeah, Im getting in tune with the straight and narrow
(getting in tune with the straight and narrow)
(getting in tune with the straight and narrow)
Im singing this note cause it fits in well
Im singing this note cause it fits in well
With the way Im feeling
With the way Im feeling
Theres a symphony that I hear in your heart
Theres a symphony that I hear in your heart
Sets my head a-reeling
Sets my head a-reeling
But Im in tune
But Im in tune
Right in tune
Right in tune
Im in tune
Im in tune
And Im gonna tune
And Im gonna tune
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you (right in on you)
Right in on you
Right in on you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Baby, with you
Ive got it all here in my head
Ive got it all here in my head
Theres nothing more needs to be said
Theres nothing more needs to be said
Im just bangin on my old piano
Im just bangin on my old piano
Im getting in tune with the straight and narrow
Im getting in tune with the straight and narrow
Getting in tune with the straight and narrow (repeat)
Getting in tune with the straight and narrow (repeat)
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Sister Midnight
Pop/bowie/alomar
Calling sister midnight
Youve got me reaching for the moon
Calling sister midnight
Youve got me playing the fool
Calling sister midnight
Calling sister midnight
Can you hear me call
Can you hear me well
Can you hear me at all
Calling sister midnight
Im an idiot for you
Calling sister midnight
Im a breakage inside
Calling sister midnight
Calling sister midnight
You know I had a dream last night
Mother was in my bed
And I made love to her
Father he gunned for me
Hunted me with his six gun
Calling sister midnight
What can I do about my dreams
Listen to me sister midnight
You put a beggar in my heart
Calling sister midnight
Youve got me walking in rags
Hey where are you sister midnight
Can you hear me call
Can you hear me well
Can you hear me at all
song performed by by Iggy Pop
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Duet with a Peony
A dark red peony
Darker red than
The crown of a rooster
Swollen with pride
Stood on the grand piano
The petals fall
On the black and white ivories
I hear a quiet pianissimo tone
A haunting sense of emptiness
Soft and mysterious
Constant change of mood
The last piece of satin red petal
With hint of jazz
Morph into a smooth abscission
Like a saxophonist flirting the soft piano
I close my eyes
Red petals bursting up the piano keys
Like fireworks, a fleeting dream
Dazzling array of pianistic explosions
And me, duet with a dark red peony
Screaming In Digital
I am the beat of your pulse
The computer word made flesh
We are one you and i
We are versions of the same
When you can see what I feel
Dont turn your back on me
Or you might find that your dreams
Are only program cards
Your mind is open for me
Open for intake of all propaganda
Your eyes see now what to see
My eyes see only the programs you give me
Ill teach you to laugh and to cry
Theyre really the same youll see
All of the whys in your life
Are under my control
Feed me more lines
I will try to tell you all I can
Before the light you must know what lies
Behind my screams
I cant tell you all I know
Am I the son that youve always been wanting
Theres more to me than what shows
Are you my father
The one that was promised
Hush now, Ill give all you need to know
And pre-live your dreams for you
Youre a good boy
Freedom belongs only to those
Without video screens
For eyes and mouth
You have no voice
To be heard my son
No one can hear when youre
Screaming in digital
Im not your slave
You cant control my emotions
No father, please let me keep learning
Cant you see Im human
Cant you tell
Im not your slave
Oh father no
Please dont keep me from dreaming
Oh cant someone hear
song performed by by Queensryche
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Fairweather Father
(carly simon)
Fairweather father
Fairweather father
Doesnt like to hear the baby cry
Doesnt like to about the aches and pains
Of the day gone by
Of the day gone by
But the mother advertised as a bargain wife
Shed make things easy for the rest of his life
And to make herself more appealing
Shed think only of him and forget her own feelings
Fairweather father
Fairweather father
Wants his wife to be the truckdriver
Wants his wife to be the gardener
And still look like a hollywood starlet
And still look like a hollywood starlet
So the mother gets mad and she leaves town
That brings the father and the baby down
She wants the father to find her
Drinkin orange pop in the seedy greek diner
Fairweather father
Fairweather father
Gets her back and gets up in the night
Loves her so much and holds the baby tight
Aint that enough to make you cry
Aint that enough to make you cry
Fairweather father
Fairweather father
Doesnt like to hear the baby cry
Doesnt like to know about the aches and pains
Of the day gone by
Of the day gone by
song performed by by Carly Simon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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At The Piano
Wanting to cleave clearly in the mind the wooden chopping boards of the house into piano keys,
and the long tables of the dining room into some imagined concert:
Do you hear it?
Yes?
Do you not since then not realize this grand scale?
The poor boy is playing a sonata in his head, yes?
Yes.
Now. (Pushed into agreement as if pushed by birth into an empty room without choice and flowers for wallpaper and a mirror kept blind dark in a drawer)
There was a piano, once, in my head.
And a stage.
And the world surprised by what had been found.
Difficult piece: the left hand flying over the right and the air-pedal stepped through and clean to sustain.
And all the world standing behind kitchen counters and the dinner plates waiting for the imagined overture to complete its applause:
If only there was no need to explain.
If only the real thing was as clear and as audible as once the beautiful music.
* Brown beaver in a stream and the grass green
Small girl on a swing and a bird wing
And because he thinks it’s meant to be spring,
he colors the clear edges
of all living things in his piano book-
Where the paw touches sharp the blades
of the green patch
and the bare arm of the blonde girl arcs
her slender reach to the sun.
And old Brahms who lifts his hand in a wave,
even if this is meant to be a slow waltz he’s playing,
and a packed piano concert hall he’s set in where a bright blue blazer’s not the right suit for this true master to wear.
This genuine thing:
Every day before the sun rose,
I dreamt the world already in color.
Ivy on the old wall greener by far
than any I had seen the lush trees
bending some friends hiding behind jars,
sliding doors snuck into the empty cabinets of the garage wanting to be found and: everyone loved.
Wanting to tell the truth, to play it.
Song remembered from somewhere else
and someone else’s mistake:
the bored boy on the waiting couch
knows the girl now playing the piano has no applause in sight. The day could be awash with light!
what colors blind him with the waiting bird on the wing wrap his hands with a song small girl’s swing fill his eyes while he’s playing a fast loud trick of a trill in his head
in what was said to be “with feeling” terrible terrible thing
* All encompassing terror of the grand design
I wanted the great concertos,
the Bach arias.
I wanted: Praise be to God who fashions with his own hands the universe and all of creation out of a deep love for everything without choice.
Without being dramatic.
I wanted the long pause.
I wanted the audience stunned to tears because:
this we have not heard before in the streets this song this beautifully done.
It moves.
It brings us to the edge of our sight.
I am not the light.
I was not even part of its terms of recovery or perfection.
Joy without end without just reward.
Who has not, faced with a sin, said:
I want to be good?
For he hears even our thoughts.
I wanted that silence.
I wanted the huge applause after the silence.
*by L.L.Ypil
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Message Of Love
I, walk alone in the dark, with you
And deep, in the shadows I run, without you
And here, here I stand, the king of fools
Now loves here, where are you
Baby can you hear me
Can you hear me callin
Baby can you hear my
Message of love
Baby can you hear me
Can you hear me callin,
Baby can you hear my
Message of love
Why, have I waited so long to be there...for you
Now, now Im ready to give everything...to you
Now loves here, where are you
Baby can you hear me callin,
Baby you hear my
Message of love
Baby can you hear me
Can you hear me callin,
Baby can you hear my
Message of love
I hear...but I never listen
I see...and still Im blind
All alone...lost in the silence, Im dyin
Baby can you hear me
Can you hear me callin,
Baby can you hear my
Message of love
Baby can you hear me
Can you hear me callin,
Baby can you hear my
Message of love
Message...do you, do you. do you hear me
Do you hear my message
Baby can you hear me callin, callin
Do you, do you hear me
song performed by by Journey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Isn't About...
During the days when the snow was two feet high outside, and
My mother baked bread every Sunday morning-
I became Pocahontas beneath the living room's card table and
I laughed with my father, as I sat upon his knee-
I hadn't a care in the world although
I played for hours in solitude-
However to me solitude was ecstasy and only I knew that
I wasn't truly alone- as
I was surrounded by all of my friends as we played-
Although these people only I could see and,
Their voices only I could hear-
Lost inside this world of my fantasies-
I couldn't have been more content-
Many people were and shall always be mistaken,
Believing that happiness is being born with many gifts about them-
Having everything to own for themselves- and
Having plenty of money and the means to travel all over the world around them.
I so truly believe that this is not what life is all about-
Being popular and rich, surrounded by luxuries,
Having a lot of money to spend and to live beneath a sky that never rains-
I was still quite young when I knew inside of the depths of my soul that
Life is not about money or material treasures- Life isn't about gold and diamonds-
Rain is what makes trees and flowers grow- and
True bliss and happiness comes from inside.
Nearly half a century has passed since
I was just a child playing with my imaginary circle of friends, though
I still hear the voices unheard by others and
I know that I am loved by many others but not by all-
But I have accepted the person I am inside, and
That has brought peace of mind surging from within.
The days of baking bread and sitting upon my father's knees are over and
I am a different sort of Pocahontas now- still hiding and finding
My own place amidst the loveliness and privacy of nature!
Life is not about superficiality of material wealth-
Life is about love of and being able to accept what is to be and
Ability to accept who we truly are inside and although nature is
Part of the world outside- it stimulates pure and natural splendor from
Inside of our spirits and from our souls-I have learned this lesson
From living my own life for more than half of a century now, from letting
Nature and assurance enter that door to my heart and
To inspire that special confidence and strength arising from within-
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Trumpet Voice
I live to hear my father sing
People come
Far and wide
Gathering like anchovies in a can
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
My father burns a record
Neighbors and friends
Float from their lonely birdhouses
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
My father records a tape
The family sits in the living room
Under the golden chandelier
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
My father has a CD
My brother and I sit in my room
Playing Parcheesi
We open the player
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
I lie on the city bus
One seat for my head
The other for my feet
I turn on my small, silver iPod
And zone out from the world
To hear his deep, trumpet voice
poem by Aury Cecile
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Rock & Roll Music
(Chuck Berry)
Just let me hear some of that
Rock and roll music,
Any old way you choose it;
It's got a back beat, you can't lose it,
Any old time you use it.
It's gotta be rock and roll music,
If you want to dance with me,
If you want to dance with me.
I've got no kick againt modern jazz,
Unless they try to play it too darn fast;
And change the beauty of the melody,
Until they sounded like a symphony,
That's why I go for that
Rock and roll music...
I took my loved one over cross the tracks
So she can hear my man await a sax,
I must admit the have a rockin' band,
Man they were going like a hurricane
That's why I go for that
Rock and roll music...
Way down south they gave a jubilee,
The jockey folks they had a jamboree,
They're drinkin' homebrew from a water cup,
The folks dancin' they all got shook up
And started playin' that
Rock and roll music...
Don't care to hear 'em play a tango,
I'm in the mood to dig a mambo;
It's way to early for a congo,
So keep a rockin' that piano
So I can hear some of that
Rock and roll music...
song performed by by Reo Speedwagon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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the Joy Of Music
-THE JOY OF MUSIC -
The violin sang so softly
In the hands of this old man
As he sat there on the wooden stool
Bow held gently in his hand.
His wife played grand piano
Sweet music they did make
As from the hard work of the fields
This respite, they would take.
Gentle music of God's praise
They played for all to hear.
The sweetest music in the land
Was falling on God's ear.
They passed along that joyous sound
To children they did bare
The most relaxing trait of all
The gift of music rare.
And now throughout the generations
Which do continue to abound
We hear the perfect notes and glorious songs,
The joy of music does resound.
Author: Carolyn Ford Witt
2-11-07
By Ms. Caroline
poem by Carolyn Ford Witt
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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