It is as if she is lost
It is as if she is lost,
while on the piano she plays a fugue
and sick of arguing feeling like a rogue
she plays on as if she’s at an outpost
where living cost
do not matter and every colleague
do not scatter away, as if she has the plague
and she’s near to the end, almost
finished, when the phone starts to ring,
with its consistency shattering her peace
and she answers and listens to the chattering,
looking through the window to find quick release
from the building tension, she notices that it’s spring
and the voice trails on and on, like a spreading disease.
poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Hush goes the crowd
(The music plays, the stage is lit, the crowd come in and a man starts to sing)
Hush goes the crowd,
While I sing this sad love ballad,
The story of my heart,
And I continue singing,
One by one,
The leave the theatre,
And soon I’m left alone,
Singing this ballad,
While I weep before every word,
From daybreak to midnight,
From spring till to winter,
I sing this melancholy filled ballad,
Murmuring these words,
As my throat dry’s,
(The man is on his knees)
Now in a empty theatre,
This song still plays,
Even though I’m alone,
My speech does not stop,
And from a sad ballad,
This song his turned into screams,
Shattering through,
Deafening every living being,
But it isn’t even heard,
No not even listened to,
By the muse of this song,
If only she heard my voice,
If only she would come to this theatre,
(Sound of weeping, tears hit the stage floor; the light slowly fades, till there is only silence and darkness)
Then the Hong is hit,
And I awake to sing again,
The same old lyrics,
There is a new audience in the seats,
But she is not here,
She will never be,
Where she is,
Is far away,
(The music plays again and he starts to sing then hush say’s the crowd)
poem by Paurakh Shrestha
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Twelve Bar Lil
Sweet Lilly Larnie
plays the blues away
she plays a three quarter strat
like B.B King plays Lucille
She plays the twelve bar blues
like nobody else can
she plays a blues lick so fast and quick
it makes you sick
She's twelve bar Lil
the three quarter strat Queen
you wouldn't believe
she's only three
For my Daughter Lilly, who's now four.
poem by Dave Alan Walker
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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If The Phone Doesnt Ring Its Me
If the phone doesnt ring its me
1985
The time spent writing about the intensity involved in trying to
Keep love together is short; but the endless research can kill you.
There are oceans of feelings between us
Currents that take us and sweep us away
Thats why we seldom have seen us
In the light of a cold hard day
Lots of new friends with the same old answers
Open your eyes
You might see
If our lives were that simple
Wed live in the past
If the phone doesnt ring
Its me
If the phone doesnt ring
Youll know that its me
Ill be out in the eye of the storm
If the phone doesnt ring
You know that Ill be
Where someone can make me feel warm
Its too bad we cant turn
And live in the past
If the phone doesnt ring
Its me
Ive had good days and bad days
And goin half mad days
I try to let go but youre still on my mind
Ive lost all the old ways
Im searchin for new plays
Puttin it all on the line
Lots of new friends with the same old problems
Open your eyes you might see
If our lives were that simple
Wed live in the past
If the phone doesnt ring
Its me
If the phone doesnt ring
Youll know that its me
Ill be out in the eye of the storm
If the phone doesnt ring
You know that Ill be
Where someone can make me feel warm
Its too bad we cant turn
And live in the past
If the phone doesnt ring
Its me
Its me, its me
Its me, its me
Its me, its me
Its me, its me
If it takes all the future
Well live through the past
If the phone doesnt ring
Its me
- notes:
Background vocals: glenn frey, timothy b. schmit
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Old Paino
The old piano plays the same tune over and over again.
Why you say? Its because it's my tune no one else's! Why you want to change it? Its because I know I can!
I don't want anything to change on this old broken piano!
I don't want nothing to change it's because its stronger than you think! I beg you please don't change it!
That song is more powerful than you think! Please don't change anything! I love the way it plays so please don't leave me and say good bye! I feel lost with out you but I know it's time to say okay and let you go...
poem by Jessica Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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a Thought....
There is a lady by the lake
She plays the Piano
At night sadly
The moon listens and remembers
Just like any abandoned lover
A song
Learned by the Heart
and Until
Now is never forgotten
The notes from the Piano
Swim in the Lake like some fishes
Wishing to be stars....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Music To Burn
He writes so many sheets of music,
Ideas bouncing around his head,
But financial times are hard,
And he has music to burn,
He needs those keys just right,
He needs to know what he is doing,
And not just rely on blind instinct,
Because he needs this money,
That only a musical score can make,
And ideas are something that he will take,
So he starts writing,
Thinking about the stars who will sing,
His melody that will be in history,
That will be popular with the public,
For this is how he makes his living,
He can't afford not to have ideas,
So he needs his muse,
A muse that won't leave him,
Burning his music in frustration,
He just needs a key and the right note,
To make his song a song everyone will love,
So he puts down this pen,
And retreats to his piano,
Then he pictures a violin and plays,
The piano turns into magic beneath his fingers,
The melody flowing from his mind,
And intuition and instinct stop him being blind,
And he plays and plays, writing on his music sheet,
And knows his muse has not yet deserted him,
And will, at least, make this song a success,
With music he doesn't need to burn.
poem by Paula Glynn
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The Last Cheaters Waltz
(sonny throckmorton)
She was going to pieces when he walked in the door
She had to see him she cant wait no more
Tonight shell be with him no matter the cost
As the band plays the last cheaters waltz
And oooooooohh dont they play lonely
Oooooooohh dont they play sad
Oooooooohh three quarter only
See how he holds her
As the band plays the last cheaters waltz
He tells her he loves her as the music plays on
He tells he loves her but someones at home
The ball games all over and she knows shes lost
As the band plays the last cheaters waltz
And oooooooohh dont they play lonely
Oooooooohh dont they play sad
Oooooooohh three quarter only
See how he holds her
As the band plays the last cheaters waltz
song performed by by Emmylou Harris
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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King Creole
(words & music by jerry leiber - mike stoller)
Theres a man in new orleans
Who plays rock and roll
Hes a guitar man
With a great big soul
He lays down a beat
Like a ton of coal
He goes by the name of king creole
You know hes gone, gone, gone
Jumpin like a catfish on a pole
You know hes gone, gone, gone
Hip shaking king creole
When the king starts to do it
Its as good as done
He holds his guitar
Like a tommy gun
He starts to growl
From way down his throat
He bends a string
And thats all she wrote
Well, he sings a song about a crowded hole
He sings a song about a jelly roll
He sings a song about meat and greens
He wails some blues about new orleans
Well, he plays something evil
Then he plays something sweet
No matter what he plays
You got to get up on your feet
When he gets the rockin fever
Baby, heaven sakes
He dont stop playin
till his guitar breaks
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The 'Poem A Day' Project - Day 16
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’m feeling all alone
I can’t connect with my friends out there
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I miss its ringing tone
I’ve searched for it everywhere
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
And now I cannot roam
I must stay near in case it rings
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I do not wish to moan
It has numbers, dates and all kinds of things
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
And now I guess I’m prone
To wander like a lost zombie
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve lost my mobile phone
I’ve no mind of my own
Without it there to organise me
I’ve lost my mobile phone
poem by Flying Lemming
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Well, all the plays that I was trying to write were plays that would grab an audience by the throat and not release them, rather than presenting an emotion which you could observe and walk away from.
quote by Arthur Miller
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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A Little Night Music
A little night music plays on
As I walk tonight
The stars are sublime
While many fly by in the sky before
they're gone
It's a night like any other
But tonight there's a little night music
I'm all alone
Yet while the music plays
I stand by a wall of this abandoned
building
And just become enchanted
The streets are still flooded with cars
The highways are still busy with trucks
Yet where I am
I'm happy where I am tonight
Whether I'm standing outside a building
Or just wanting to take in the night for the
sake of it
A little night music plays on tonight
And I feel like it's on my side
On this night
While having a smile on my face
poem by Justin Gildow
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ballade Of Old Plays
LA COUR.
When these Old Plays were new, the King,
Beside the Cardinal's chair,
Applauded, 'mid the courtly ring,
The verses of Moliere;
Point-lace was then the only wear,
Old Corneille came to woo,
And bright Du Parc was young and fair,
When these Old Plays were new!
LA COMEDIE.
How shrill the butcher's cat-calls ring,
How loud the lackeys swear!
Black pipe-bowls on the stage they fling,
At Brecourt, fuming there!
The Porter's stabbed! a Mousquetaire
Breaks in with noisy crew -
'Twas all a commonplace affair
When these Old Plays were new!
LA VILLE.
When these Old Plays were new! They bring
A host of phantoms rare:
Old jests that float, old jibes that sting,
Old faces peaked with care:
Menage's smirk, de Vise's stare,
The thefts of Jean Ribou,--
Ah, publishers were hard to bear
When these Old Plays were new.
ENVOY.
Ghosts, at your Poet's word ye dare
To break Death's dungeons through,
And frisk, as in that golden air,
When these Old Plays were new!
poem by Andrew Lang
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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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Symphony In Blue
I spent a lot of my time looking at blue,
The colour of my room and my mood:
Blue on the walls, blue out of my mouth;
The sort of blue between clouds, when the sun comes out,
The sort of blue in those eyes you get hung up about.
When that feeling of meaninglessness sets in,
Go blowing my mind on god:
The light in the dark, with the neon arms,
The meek he seeks, the beast he calms,
The head of the good soul department.
I see myself suddenly
On the piano, as a melody.
My terrible fear of dying
No longer plays with me,
For now I know that Im needed
For the symphony.
I associate love with red,
The colour of my heart when shes dead;
Red in my mind when the jealousy flies,
Red in my eyes from emotional ties,
Manipulation, the danger signs.
The more I think about sex, the better it gets.
Here we have a purpose in life:
Good for the blood circulation,
Good for releasing the tension,
The root of our reincarnations.
I see myself suddenly
On the piano, as a melody.
My terrible fear of dying
No longer plays with me,
For now I know that Im needed
For the symphony.
I spent a lot of my time looking at blue--
No wonder that I blue it!
song performed by by Kate Bush
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Im sick
im sick of not knowing,
im sick of not showing,
im sick of all the starring
im sick of not caring
im sick of being labled bad
im sick of always looking sad
im sick of feeling locked in bars
im sick of all the painful scars
im sick of all the thugs
im sick of all the drugs
im sick of asking myself why
im sick of telling myself i want to die
im sick of feeling like i always want to cry
im sick of living a lie
im sick of not having a dream
im sick of lifes borring theme
but thares only one was out...
so what does that mean?
poem by Malorie Genoff
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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So Sick
im sick of not knowing,
im sick of not showing,
im sick of all the starring
im sick of not caring
im sick of being labled bad
im sick of always looking sad
im sick of feeling locked in bars
im sick of all the painful scars
im sick of all the thugs
im sick of all the drugs
im sick of asking myself why
im sick of telling myself i want to die
im sick of feeling like i always want to cry
im sick of living a lie
im sick of not having a dream
im sick of lifes borring theme
but thares only one was out...
so what does that mean?
poem by Ricky Baker
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Baby Plays Around
Its not open to discussion anymore
Shes out again tonight and Im alone once more
Shes all I have worth waiting for
But baby plays around
And so it seems Ive always been the last to know
To hold on to that girl, I had to let her go
I wish to God I didnt love her so
cos baby plays around
I try to be strong hold on to my pride
She doesnt even know its wrong, how much I hurt inside
And heaven knows Ive tried
But baby plays around. just a plaything
Its hard to reconcile the facts Im facing
Its not open to discussion anymore
She walks those shiny streets
I walk the worn out floor
Shes all I have worth living for
Baby plays, baby plays around
song performed by by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Guitar
He keeps his sercrets
Under his shirt sleeve
And hides his face
In his black hair
It hangs in his eyes
And all the girls think he's so cute
Why can't they see it?
Sometimes
He hides behind the school
And plays his guitar
It's so beautiful;
The rhythm he plays
No one notices what he does when he goes home
Because his mom's always drunk
And his dad's abusing her
And the boy tries to step in
To stop his mother from getting hit anymore
But it doesn't work
His father hits him instead
And he goes to his room
And cuts with his knife
Under his shirt sleeve
So no one sees it
And he hides in his room
And plays his guitar
This guitar
He says
Is keeping me alive
If I didn't have this guitar
I would've killed myslef already
Him
And his guitar
poem by Alyssa Ray
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Convenient Killing Prophets Before Birth Born
Patty plays sunny day absorbed in her splash paddling pool.
Sybil collects classical art shells along future whisper seashores.
Terence writes last morality Roman plays into tide incoming sands.
Galileo Galilei seashore plays delight birth fathers modern sciences.
Einstein E = mc2 relativity realistic states nature equivalence principle
recognized 'right of individuals to say and think what they pleased'.
Stephen Hawking proves superiority of mind over frail sick bodies
black holes release energy light escapes on cusp rim event horizons.
But like Hitler unenlightened minds promote birth defect abortions.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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The young man plays the flute, the middle aged man plays the harpsichord, the old man plays the organ.