Cabin
Outside, the great lake
laughed a depthy green
behind nine square panes;
riven by a pier
tied to which a rowboat
anchored in the shallows
bobbed until,
an amicable tomorrow.
Jutting its profile
from a pine-wood wall
a buck's head looked down
calmly, steadily,
its glassy eyes aglow
in the failing light
taking in all
they did or might do.
Not that they minded,
being too busy, far-
the little boy and girl-
coaxing ancient airs
from the factory
of a dusty player-piano-
oak-stained and upright,
mysterious and dark.
Feeding it tattered scroll
upon yellowed scroll
of fenestrated piano
rolls, dumped to the floor
from the storage drawer
of an equally dark bureau,
pumping with all their might-
laughing and singing along:
'The Whole World Is Singing My Song'
poem by Morgan Michaels
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
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
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piano maker
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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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I was half asleep lying there writing this lyric in my head at about 3:30 in the morning. I woke Steve up with this idea and then we went into the living room where there was a little upright piano and finished the song. I wonder where that piano is now?
quote by Jim Capaldi
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
Piano
Softly, in the dusk, a woman is singing to me;
Taking me back down the vista of years, till I see
A child sitting under the piano, in the boom of the tingling strings
And pressing the small, poised feet of a mother who smiles as she sings.
In spite of myself, the insidious mastery of song
Betrays me back, till the heart of me weeps to belong
To the old Sunday evenings at home, with winter outside
And hymns in the cosy parlour, the tinkling piano our guide.
So now it is vain for the singer to burst into clamour
With the great black piano appassionato. The glamour
Of childish days is upon me, my manhood is cast
Down in the flood of remembrance, I weep like a child for the past.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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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
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Whistling In The Dark
A woman came up to me and said
Id like to poison your mind
With wrong ideas that appeal to you
Though I am not unkind
She looked at me, I looked at something
Written across her scalp
And these are the words that it faintly said
As I tried to call for help:
Theres only one thing that I know how to do well
And Ive often been told that you only can do
What you know how to do well
And thats be you,
Be what youre like,
Be like yourself,
And so Im having a wonderful time
But Id rather be whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Theres only one thing that I like
And that is whistling in the dark
A man came up to me and said
Id like to change your mind
By hitting it with a rock, he said,
Though I am not unkind.
We laughed at his little joke
And then I happily walked away
And hit my head on the wall of the jail
Where the two of us live today.
Theres only one thing that I know how to do well
And Ive often been told that you only can do
What you know how to do well
And thats be you,
Be what youre like,
Be like yourself,
And so Im having a wonderful time
But Id rather be whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Theres only one thing that I like
And that is whistling in the dark
Theres only one thing that I know how to do well
And Ive often been told that you only can do
What you know how to do well
And thats be you,
Be what youre like,
Be like yourself,
And so Im having a wonderful time
But Id rather be whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling in the dark
Whistling, whistling
Whistling in the dark
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
Whistling (whistling), whistling (whistling)
Dark (dark), dark (dark)
song performed by by They Might Be Giants
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Just This Afternoon
tired the whole day, i stay at the second floor
and lay my body on that
bamboo bed where air is passing through
its plats,
this is a cool mechanism
and i sleep
waking up later, it is already dark
and i hear the sound
of piano music from the other house
of our next door neighbor
it is yann tiersen again on the piano
and i remember this lady you guided the blind man
on such a fast speed like a piano music
on allegro
at the mall, at the center of the mall
where there is so much light
she left him there
wondering: what world is this? who are you?
enough of memories, i go back to you tube
and listen again
it is another yann tiersen, this time
Le Fabuleux destin d'Amélie Poulain
who i am? i ask such a silly question again.
another attempt at a poem
philosophizing...
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Dark Dark Girl
Dark girl so filled with strife
Dark Dark girl she'll take your life
Dark girl stay for a while
Dark Dark girl she makes me smile
Dark girl she shows no fear
Dark Dark girl is always near
Dark girl wont see her cry
Dark Dark girl just wants to die
But Dark girl lives in the dark
so you dont see her painfull mark
Dark Dark girl may never know
just how much the light can show
poem by Kyle Potter
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Scroll With No Words
I saw the brown dusty scroll,
Took it with eager to have knowledge,
Might it be a lexicon i pondered?
Or rather a verbatim of illusions?
Or maybe a book of inspiration?
Reaching out to remove the dust,
The scroll automatically opened,
To the amusement of an eager man,
It was a Scripture, with no words in it
I realised the mandate, i should write it
In my scroll shall be the thoughts of you,
Writing them in consistence of love,
My thoughts i shall daily dedicate,
Writing the unexplained feelings,
So shall be my scriptures filled with you,
The poems i shall write,
The stories i shall narrate,
The myths i shall explain,
My love i shall describe,
And my scroll i shall surely write.
poem by Gaylord Munemo
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Singing All Day
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Oo, my, my, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
Went down to the station to look for her there,
Looked through the crowds for a glimpse of her hair,
Nothing to see but the crowds keep a-staring at me,
My, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
Down in the street, tryn to remember,
Shuffling my feet outside a menswear,
Is that her in the fur coat?
No its not december yet,
My, my, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Back to the house, maybe shell phone me,
Singing my song, feeling so lonely.
Ill sing very softly, so if the phone rings
I can hear it, I can hear it.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing.
Singing all day, singing 'bout nothing,
Oo, my, my, my,
Oo, my, my, my.
song performed by by Jethro Tull
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Krishnakali
In the village they call her the dark girl
but to me she is the flower Krishnakali
On a cloudy day in a field
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She had no covering on her head,
her loose hair had fallen on her back.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelleeyes.
Two black cows were lowing,
as it grew dark under the heavy clouds.
So with anxious, hurried steps,
the dark girl came from her hut.
Raising her eyebrows toward the sky,
she listened a moment to the clouds' rumble.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
A gust of the east wind
rippled the rice plants.
I was standing by a ridge,
alone in the field.
Whether or not she looked at me
Is known only to us two.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
This how the Kohldark cloud
rises in the northeast in Jaistha;
the soft dark shadow
descends on the Tamal grove in Asharh;
and sudden delight floods the heart
in the night of Sravan.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
To me she is the flower Krishnakali,
whatever she may be called by others.
In a field in Maynapara village
I saw the dark girl's dark gazelle-eyes.
She did not cover her head,
not having the time to feel embarrassed.
Dark? However dark she be,
I have seen her dark gazelle-eyes.
poem by Rabindranath Tagore
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Shes Got Claws
You are distraction
Like pictures on the wall
I dont like eyes
You are attraction
It gets to be routine
Youre up Im down
Shes got claws
But the factory knows
Were dreams in cold storage
We could dance the night away
You say you love me
Maybe you do
A patience I cant steal
I dont believe you
You said straight
Its like giving up hope
Here on the ground
On the floor
Screaming nothing at all
Here on the ground
Like some whore
Looking down on you all
Too much advice. Im not sure.
Laughing hyenas
With pens for charms
Youll just suck in the boys
We have to leave soon
Shut the door
This house is far too cold
Shes got claws
But the factory knows
Were dreams in cold storage
We could dance the night away
song performed by by Gary Numan
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ann
I came into this lovely city about three weeks ago today,
and I've been trying to find someone that I can talk to, a friendly face to turn my way.
I walk these streets in silent sorrow, I walk my feet into the ground,
and all I see are cloudy, cold, suspicious faces, I swear to God it brings me down.
Is there no one with a smile for me, no one with a hello in their eyes?
Is there no one who will love me and help me through the dark and lonely night?
The park's so green and full of flowers and lovers lying on the lawn.
I wish I had a lady here that I could laugh with, sweet Jesus Christ, it hurts me so to be alone.
Is there no one with a smile for me, no one with a hello in their eyes?
Is there no one who will love me and help me through the dark and lonely night?
Singing la la la la la la, Singing la la la la la la.
This life is hard and full of trouble, it's painful just to live from day to day.
But if you're weary and afraid don't turn away now,
there's no reason why we have to feel this way.
Is there no one with a smile for me, no one with a hello in their eyes?
Is there no one who will love me and help me through the dark and lonely night?
Singing la la la la la la, Singing la la la la la la.
I just need someone to talk to. It hurts to be alone.
I just need someone to laugh with. It hurts to be alone.
I just want someone to love me. I need someone to talk to. And it hurts to be alone.
Singing la la la la la la, Singing la la la la la la.
Singing la la la la la la, Singing la la la la la la.
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Early In The Morning I Hear On Your Piano
EARLY in the morning I hear on your piano
You (at least, I guess it's you) proceed to learn to play.
Mostly little minds should take and tackle their piano
While the birds are singing in the morning of the day.
poem by Robert Louis Stevenson
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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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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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When Seymour saw me seated at the piano at that first rehearsal, he shouted: 'What's that kid doing here? Call your piano player and let's get started.'
quote by Mary Lou Williams
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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