Piano Bench
sun setting,
...azure tint.
the piano bench empty,
dust gathers on the keys.
the grass damp with dew,
the wind still, and quiet.
the bookshelf sags
with books long ignored.
people walk by without talking,
darkness opens its mouth... swallows.
the lamp forlorn and chilled
waits without hope for a bulb.
nothing to say that can say,
words fall like leaves to the ground.
the room empty haunted by form,
curls up inside it's own hollow.
no fingers to touch the keys!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Related quotes
A silly poem about keys
Keys can open doors
they can lock you in
keys on a piano
but not on a Violin.
Keys to a safe
inside a vault
keys lost again
well that's your fault.
Keys on an old typewriter
and on a modern laptop
keys stolen by a thief
to break into a shop.
Keys hang on a keyring
or on a fancy chain
but how on earth can you
dropp them down a drain?
Keys for this and that
a key lying under the mat
having to rush to the Vet
it's been swallowed by the cat.
So I'll end this poem now
and try and get my key
I dropped it down a drain
oh stupid and silly me!
poem by Kevin Halls
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The piano chords
You play the piano chords
In this sonata as well as
In the music of Prokofiev,
Emphatically catching the music's mood.
Fingers seem to stick the keys
And the keys seem to direct the fingers,
When the thumbs move under them.
You both look like a single being,
In together.
The piano seemingly breaks the sounds.
They penetrate my soul,
Searching for the necessary words.
I understand the story of your feelings.
Dedicated to Richard Clayderman
poem by Marieta Maglas
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Take The Keys To My Heart
Ive been out on this highway of heartache
Hopin that somewhere down the line
I could find someday who
Could rev me like you do
So grab onto my wheel
And Ill be fine
Take the keys to my heart
And drive me crazy
Ive been runnin on empty way too long
Honey you got the touch
That heats my motor up
Take the keys to my heart
And drive it home
I dont know where this road is gonna lead us
But what a beautiful night for a drive
Baby put your mind at ease
Drop the top and feel the breeze
Just follow all the signs to paradise
Take the keys to my heart
And drive me crazy
Ive been runnin on empty way too long
All that work under the hood
Sure has got it runnin good
Take the keys to my heart
And drive it home
Tonight weve gonna set these wheels on fire
And find out just how far this thing will go
Honey we dont need no map
cause where we are is where its at
Take the keys to my heart
And drive it home
Baby makes my motor yearn
I love to feel that rubber burn
Take the keys to my heart
And drive it home
Drive it home
song performed by by Garth Brooks
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I Will Raise You Up My Friend
the piano sings
again in the living room
tinkering on notes
that finally rhyme into
a beautiful song of friendship
i may have not known
what is happening inside you
all these tantrums
of the heart
all these confusions
of the mind like
leaves scattered in the
yard of our youth
perhaps, i could be wrong
finding you alone
in the corner of your room
but no
there is music in every ear
a sigh in every word
hope in every tear
there is something that
i feel and yet
i do not really want to know
like the notes that you
strike on the keys
of the piano
unmathematical
yet so enduring.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Empty Spaces
Once there were times love
When we could touch the air between
And out acroos this room
Wed just touch hands life would shine
With electric dreams.
No matter how many miles
Nothing hurt long-distance-hearts
And there was always something there
That space could never keep apart
But now I know inside that something is died
When were apart
All we have are
Empty spaces.
Its not like were building walls
Too hard to climb to make us blind
Its just so much numbing space
To hollow out the heart and mind
And I can hear echoes of ghosts of love
We left behind.
Ill always love april
We fell in love and we planted seeds
But now we walk through fallen trees
And leaves are crushed beneath
And I will always live in autumn
Now were agreed
All we have are
Empty spaces.
Ithought this was meant to be
Our love had an energy
But only as time evolved
And all of our strength dissolved
And well never feel the flame that burned so naked
Again.
I walk through kentish town
And all the rain rain pouring down
So many people here
But space like this Ive never found
And as I get back home and step inside
I realise all I have
All I have are
Empty spaces.
song performed by by Spandau Ballet
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Piano vs. Guitar
i sat down at the piano bench for 10 whole years
i never stood up and moved away because of my fears
that i had been wasting my time and i wouldnt express myself
i couldnt rewrite erase scratch out replace what i had been taught
not by myself always with a hand moving me left to right right to left
until that day i wasn't afraid to stand and i saw myself not moving just
shifting from side to side i was only getting morose with no sense of wit or pride
i could get soulful and stand and swing liek the wind on the trees and no more was i trying to express myself on the piano on the keys where my fingers tried to get crazy but all i could do was type at the same rate with a bomb between my knees
so i saw my dad's guitar one day and my hands went up and down and not
from side to side and i didn't have to sit down and i choked the neck, twisted the head and realized that i saw in the face of what i could become and never hide
i saw in the face of it who i wanted to be, not what i was but what i could be come
and my past was behind me, and it chided me antagonized me until i saw that
my hand worked better as a claw
my father's guitar i saw it and i saw his face and i saw mine too and since that day i learned to scratch out and erase and revise what i felt inside and what i could
express and that i could get soulful when i wasn't sitting down to rest at the bench
to stagnate to get comfortable and masturbate and never get out of my comfort zone so my mind vacated the place where i was sat naked
i could get soulful and stand and swing liek the wind on the trees and no more was i trying to express myself on the piano on the keys where my fingers tried to get crazy but all i could do was type at the same rate with a bomb between my knees
waiting to explode, or reload the dissapointment inside my head untill i remembered that one lost phrase that my fingers once said on that guitar with that bar chord sliding up and down and noticing that for the first time i could get funky and move around.
poem by Maxwell Ames
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Fingers On The Piano
the fingers on the piano
are so cruel
pressing the ivory keys
of mother's old piano
and from
the blankness of
her presence
a floodgate opens
the memories
which should have
been better
forgotten
there will be more
tears shed
as there will always
be rain
but there is this
adamant
determination to claim
the colors
of the rainbow
after
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Blank, Numb, Floating
it is 1: 55 a.m.
i hear the rain falling
she is fast asleep tired of the demands of her day
i leave her and she takes the pillow for me
i turn on the light
and see this room of books and paperworks
i turn on the computer
i am feeling nothing and i am floating like i am but a spirit
i am numb and i am feeling so dumb
i see this blank wall
i am feeling so empty
i look at her again
she utters words in her sleep and i will not wake her up
i lay my hands on the keys
run my fingers on some letters
there is nothing to write
in particular but there is something to run my fingers on
this feeling
this attempt to imitate the sound of the rain in letters
to put the motion of the rain to put its smell
to be wet and to have the rain run over me
all over me all over me all over me all over me
blank, numb, floating and wet
this is the poem now
at 2: 03 a.m.
it has gained finally this form
and scent and motion and color
that you have never seen
or felt the way
i do.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Virtue Of Self-reliance....
i wait for no one
and no one waits for me
copy: i am an island
i touch no one and no one touches me
does this sound like poetry at all?
does this sound like an existential angst of one who wants to hold on the hooks of words
fished out from the confused waters?
for one, i haven't heard the cries for help
there is only the sound of feet and hands flapping like the fins of a fish
as though
someone is short of breath
and about to die
i like this,
this way to the door of the music room
sitting on a bench
facing a piano
as i begin to press and let my fingers travel distances
each note
takes me to nowhere, relying only on the sound of its longing
no destination, no purpose
ah, like a cocoon hanging on a leaf
merely passing the time away
without the dream of a butterfly
inside its darkness
ah, everything blooms,
everything opens
let us see how can this happen to me
watch me as i too watch you
this must be life then, surprises all surprises
how can boredom be so real?
how can jejune be June?
what about the numerical ennui on the month of May?
listen, listen
drink the silence
savor this inner peace
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Rose lies on the piano keys....
Rose lies on the piano keys.
It still hears the sounds of music.
Hopelessly dump it lies,
Echoes of love songs arise.
Glowing petals fade by the past shade,
With the yesterday’s love groan.
Black and white keys played
To the only one and his own.
Memories of the fingers remained.
They were beautiful love skill,
A shrill cries of love and pain.
Rose lies on the piano keys…
It’s a memory of the old follies
And the fairies giving the dowries.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska
January 30th,2011
poem by Larisa Rzhepishevska
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Absence
My cup is empty to-night,
Cold and dry are its sides,
Chilled by the wind from the open window.
Empty and void, it sparkles white in the moonlight.
The room is filled with the strange scent
Of wistaria blossoms.
They sway in the moon's radiance
And tap against the wall.
But the cup of my heart is still,
And cold, and empty.
When you come, it brims
Red and trembling with blood,
Heart's blood for your drinking;
To fill your mouth with love
And the bitter-sweet taste of a soul.
poem by Amy Lowell
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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
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A Body In Empty Shell
I want to keep my head down,
To utter my prayer for us.
Let, fill us with pure light,
Let us be as sober as grass.
The open air, the crystal mind,
The leaves of grass, the dew
From the heaven, the azure sky,
All we need, to worship you!
What's the use of this life,
If innocence does fail?
Will we have fun and frolic,
With a body in empty shell?
We have come to leave footprints,
On the way we always walk.
So that people may follow us,
Our works and our given track!
poem by Nilakshi Das
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Sleepless In Mindanao Island
the mind is nude
the air is warm
inside this darkness
a single lamp
flickers... i am sleepless
again in Mindanao island
the last window is closed.
the monitor lights and blinks
and the sound of the keys
start to run, fingers playing
on words, words
making love with thoughts
the ecstasy is felt once,
twice, and then the rapture
of beauty, the dance of grace,
the steady trickle of
emotions, there is music
this poem for you.
love and sleeplessness.
lust and restlessness.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fingers
I see your fingers
touching tenderly,
reaching out in love
and with great care
plucking at strings and chords
strumming with great skill
and sometimes setting fire
to a tune on your guitar
floating over the piano keys
touching here and there
like a butterfly drifting in the air
tapping keys on the computer keyboard
writing poetry, sometimes songs
singing them along
brushing strokes on a canvass or board
mixing colours to the exact hue
painting images from your head
spreading emotions from the depth of you
magically giving life
dancing along with a rhythm of their own.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Feeling Hollow Is Not A Crime
feeling hollow is not a crime,
why worry? i like to feel hollow at times
i feel so light and guiltless, and i sit on a bench
and look at passersby, guessing what is also
inside their minds: that one is hollow too,
she is floating in air like a butterfly
and that one is hollower than thou
she has a halo.
now i feel hollow too, but i get so used to it
that it has gained weight like a feather from
the status of air, and i have become so sensitive
to what other hollow people like me feel,
to the nth time of their empty lives,
but, know what, only for a little time,
hollow minds become filled,
like hollow souls too filled with so
much divine grace.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Living Life
i let things
come as they are
like the rain
that falls
and the river
that brings the
water out to sea
i take life
like how love flows
negotiates
its way over
every of the
piano keys
to make it to
your heart
i take life
like how
your deft
fingers go
never question
how each dribbles
over the keys
to bring out the
sweet notes of our life
i let troubles
come and go
like the rain fall
and the river that brings
the water out to sea
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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The Hollow Nature Of Being
WALL I:
inside an empty room lies an empty box
and in that box is a four walled inside room within-
on each of the four walls is a mirror reflecting
the deep desertion of the next
and distant within each wall is another
echoing & spiraling back into infinite repetition
with nothing or no one except the physical entities
bearing back upon each other.
WALL II:
an empty room in an empty house
the house itself has no physical attributes because it
was built in a barren field-
there are no animals, no trees,
no beings of any kind
roaming around the house whose image cannot be
imagined,
at best, know that this house in fact
“housed” the room in question,
as any house might any room.
WALL III:
such a barren field stretches to all four corners
carrying itself out beyond the periphery
curling back in on the other side,
and walking in any direction will bring one back to the
beginning-
the barren field that reveals the empty house that
encapsulates the empty room is the most integral point of
reference within the endless flat plain of grass.
WALL IV:
endless flat plains of grass flowing out in all directions covering
the circumference of the area around the empty house residing in
the middle of the plain wherein
the inside of the empty house holds the
empty room & in the
room,
the four mirrored walls reveal only the replication of the
others,
spiraling into infinite repetition-
there is no feeling
no sound
no communication of any kind
woven with the thread of human fiber.
poem by Andrew Delapruch
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Piano Lessons
Piano lessons and the key notes that touched your heart,
My fingers on the keys are like my fingers on your love;
And there you sat and watched me play all day long.
Enquire into my past and enquire into my love today,
For tomorrow comes and you will be with me again;
Because you are the one that i love and,
These piano lessons are meant for your love.
poem by Edward Kofi Louis
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Monday Morning Church
You left your Bible on the dresser
So I put it in the drawer
'Cause I can't seem to talk to God without yelling anymore
And when I sit at your piano
I can almost hear those hymns
The keys are just collecting dust
But I can't close the lid
You left my heart as empty
as a Monday morning church
It used to be so full of faith and now it only hurts
And I can heart the devil whisper
"Things are only getting worse"
You left my heart as empty
as a Monday morning church
The preacher came by Sunday
said he missed me at the service
He told me Jesus loves me
but I'm not sure I deserve it
'Cause the faithful man that you loved
is nowhere to be found
Since they took all that he believed
and laid it in the ground
Repeat chorus
I still believe in Heaven
and I'm sure you've made it there
But as for me without your love, girl
I don't have a prayer
Repeat chorus
You left your Bible on the dresser
so I put it in the drawer
song performed by by Alan Jackson
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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