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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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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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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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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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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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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My father had left behind an old piano. My sister was already going to school, my mother was out working, and I stayed at home alone with my adorable grandmother who understood nothing I said. It was so boring that I stayed at the piano all day long, and that saved my life.
quote by Michel Legrand
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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My mother played piano so we always had music around the house.
quote by Johnny Winter
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Axe Concerto
Grandfather John, my mother's dad,
remarried later on in life.
When he passed on his vast wealth
passed largely to this second wife.
Thus did her children benefit
from the bulk of his estate.
My mother and my Uncle John
relatively little, sad to state.
Sometime after the internment date
a piano was shipped to our home.
A piece Step- Grandma didn't want
She didn't play and lived alone.
When my mother was a child
living up in Marble Hill
She'd learned to play the instrument
that now she merely wished to kill.
In mortal rage she grabbed an axe
and like a batter swung away
It was a fair bit of exercise
(She had played baseball in her day.)
Such sounds that spinet then produced
were likely never heard before.
such atonal melodies
as she ripped and smashed its core.
the Axe concerto was concluded
when only splinters still remained
She went and stored the axe away-
After than she never played
poem by John F. McCullagh
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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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Jump Shout Boogie
Well not to long ago in 1944
When every mothers son was goin' off to war
They had to lift there spirits high
For Uncle Sam ,mother hood and apple pie
Instead of spendin' money that they didn't have
In hot spots in the Bronx
They went to here the kind of jazz
You hear in funky hunky tonks
[Chorus:]
It made you wanna
Jump! shout! knock your self out
The bogie-wogie beat is what I'm talkin' about
If you have the heebie jeebies you can dance away
To the bogie-wogie music the piano man was playin'
And you could jump, shout, knock yourself out
The boogie-woogie beat is what I'm talking about
You could pull a switcheroonie if you felt low down
With the boogie-woogie beat of a piano man who's going to town
It had the kind of rhythm that would fill the hall
The plinkin' and the pluckin' drove 'em off the wall
And they would dance and drink their gin
And when the fuzz, buzzed they joined in
So everybody partied 'till the cows came home
'cause that's what boggie's for
And everynight that dump will jump
And keepem' coming back for more
Because they make you wanna....
[Chorus]
It made you wanna jump, shout
Who wanna jump! shout
You wanna jump! shout
To the boogie-woogie music the piano man was playin'
You could jump! shout! knock yourself out
The boogie-woogie beat is what I'm talking about
You could pull a switcharoonie if your felt low down
To the boogie-woogie beat of piano (laughter)
Shake it yes, yes, yes [8x]
song performed by by Barry Manilow
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through Paris 1970
As you rode through Paris
in the packed coach
the radio played
Beethoven's Piano Concerto #5
and Mamie
sat beside you
her head to one side
sleeping
her mouth open
like some fish
out of water
her hands tucked
between her thighs
her blue skirt
riding high
and the slow movement
of the Beethoven piece
began
the piano playing softy
as the bright lights
of Paris
lit up
the dull space
inside the coach
and you closed your eyes
laying a hand
surreptiously
over hers
hearing the piano
and orchestra
as if in a dream
and Mamie
never minded
your hand
on hers
or so you thought then
and as now
it would seem.
poem by Terry Collett
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My Father's Persistence
Was there rain coming down that day?
I really can't remember.
My mother says it was cold and dreary
on that day in December.
Was I welcomed onto this earth
as I took my first breath in?
My father wanted a boy to raise.
Should I have stayed where I had been?
Gradually he accepted a little girl
and held me on his knee.
He played LP records for hours
and I inhaled the harmony.
My mother says he was obsessed with this
and thought I should be left alone.
But his persistence through my first two years
paid off with each new tone.
By age four I was playing the piano
and my father praised God.
My mother was surprised I guess.
But she thought me rather odd.
My happiest childhood memories
was playing whatever I'd heard.
My father was deliriously happy.
My mother thought it absurd.
Most of my youth went so fast.
Most of it I can't remember,
just like the part about rain coming down
on that cold dreary day in December.
But the thing I remember the most now
was my father's pride and joy
that I was born a girl instead of a baby boy.
poem by Edwina Reizer
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Understanding Women
Grassfly didn’t understand women;
Never quite grasped their fundamental
Psychology; never quite knew the trick
To get them on his side. His mother was
A matriarch who ruled the home with a
Big stick and a tongue like a viper’s spit.
Got to understand women, son, she’d say,
Else your limp life’ll be worth shit. He loved
To play piano; it gave him an outlet playing
His Schubert or Chopin pieces against the
Backdropp of his mother’s tongue. His woman
Friend, Big Bess, who wore outlandish clothes
And an XXL dress, was a mystery to him, like
Some character from Finnegan’s Wake, who
Loved to dance and say, Look Boy, see my big
Ass shake. Grassfly thought women an enigma;
God’s afterthought; the proverbial eater of
Apples, the talker with snakes. He played his
Piano pieces, watched with dulled disinterest,
Big Bess’s breasts and broad ass shake.
poem by Terry Collett
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The Blues
Hes gonna tell you bout his dear old mother
Burned up in a factory in springfield, mass.
Hes gonna tell you bout his baby brother
Hustlin down the city streets
And selling his ass for a dollar bag
Hes gonna tell you bout his uncle neddy
Locked up in a prison out in oregon
Hes gonna tell you bout his best friend eddie
Killed in a bar fight with a pair of marines
And a sailor
Oh
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it in his music
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it, you can hear it
When I was nine years old
My daddy ran away
With a woman he met on a train, oh
His little boy
Ran to the room
Where his piano
Lay in wait for him
He played and he played
He played and he played
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it, you can hear it
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
A year ago, I met a girl
I thought wed hit a massive groove
But she dumped me
And all wed hit were the blues
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes got the blues
You can hear it in his music
Hes got the blues, this boy
Hes really got the blues
song performed by by Randy Newman
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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x17-I Was Wrong
(I suggest you read first the COLD WATERS)
-Clarisse Spencers-
I thought God gave her everything.
I used to envy her
as she got what I wanted.
She had all the charms, the looks...the brain;
She played with the piano
while i played with some men.
She knew all the books
which are strangers unto me...
she sang in heaven tunes
as i trailed off completely.
She's got an angel's face
that one would be amazed;
She got the tender sweetness,
you can see it in her grace.
She got all I wanted,
and she got my mother's heart.
I really used to envy her
as she had all what she got.
I thought God gave her everything,
but then I was wrong.
I thought she's just so perfect...
But you see, she's not that strong.
poem by Jessel Jane Tevar
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A Song... To Baby Indiana, From Magic Tree
Magic tree make a wish for me,
make it make believe give him back to me magic tree.
You were the light inside of me,
then something made you leave,
before I could hold your hand,
and say hey please stay.
Magic tree make a wish for me,
make it make believe give him back to me magic tree.
No one can tell me,
that you were not meant to be.
just taken away by chance,
till in heaven we will dance;
like it was meant to be.
not by chance;
our souls will meet.
Magic tree make a wish for me,
make it make believe give him back to me magic tree.
*** This is as true as the love in this song: [please read]...
Indiana passed on September 17th.
When my mother came to attend her grandson's funeral, she brought a music box; a gift for Indy. We sat the beautiful carousel music box on the piano. No one had wound it; tears were shed, & in love it was placed by Indiana's photos.
The Christmas after, my mother came to stay & have x-mas dinner.
After we ate I sat at the piano to play this song, for my sweet child at Christmas. As I played, the music box started; it played until THE moment I had finished.
As awestruck as I was, I savored every moment. I cried, & played, & sung my heart out; knowing Indy was with us.
Love you darling*
poem by Meriki Raelene ParkinsonFraser
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Ghostly Nurses and Piano Playing
I went to elementary school,
In some old buildings,
That were at that time called,
An independant school district.
The school only went up to eighth grade.
After you finished up there,
They would bus you,
To another independant school district,
That had a high school.
As I am sure other schools have,
Our fine school had a ghost.
The ghost was supposed to haunt,
Our lunchroom / music room.
The building was about eighty feet long,
And half of it had tables and benches,
So you could sit and eat,
Whatever you brought for lunch,
In your brown paper bag.
The ghost was supposedly a school nurse,
That was supposed to have died,
In the lunchroom.
Now I don't know,
If she had a heart attack,
Or she choked on a chicken bone,
Whatever the cause,
She haunted our school.
I never saw her,
And Pepe my blood brother,
Never saw her either.
One night,
After a terrible day,
With the board of education,
(That hung above Mr. Spinks desk)
Pepe and I decided,
To investigate the school room.
At nine o'clock at night.
In those days,
One telephone pole,
With a single light on top,
Illumined the entire school.
Also, most of the school buildings,
Were left unlocked,
Since Mr. Spinks doubled,
As night watchman,
And lived on the property.
The doors being unlocked,
Proved to be a moot point.
Pepe and I were adept,
Second story men,
Even though the lunchroom was a single floor.
We climbed in through the window,
And made our way,
To the half of the lunchroom, that was the music room.
Quickly we peeked inside,
The music teachers office,
And found no discernible difference.
Then we searched all the closets,
And the utility room,
But that nurse was nowhere to be found.
After a while we got bored.
Thats when I sat at the piano,
And did my best Lon Chaney,
Impression from the silent classic,
The Phantom Of The Opera,
TA, TA, TA TOM.
Pepe started laughing hysterically,
And pretended to be Mary Philbin,
Coming up behind Erik,
To yank off his mask.
Right at that precise moment,
We heard noises outside,
And took a peek through the window.
Mr. Spinks was doing his best,
Elmer Fud impression,
Sneaking up on the lunchroom,
Shotgun and all.
Pepe and I decided to retreat,
And crawled out the window,
Oposite the side our principle was arriving at.
We made straight for the woods,
Just ten feet from the lunchroom.
There we watched as the lights came on,
Inside the lunchroom,
And Mr. Spinks doing what we had so recently,
Been doing.
After about half an hour,
He left walking in a manner,
Not like himself at all.
He would take a few steps,
Then turn, and look at the lunchroom.
He did this several times,
Until he got to the house,
He and his wife Lorretta shared with their daughter Dixie.
The next day when we got to school,
We found out,
That the ghost of the school nurse,
Had made another apparition.
Apparently she also played the music room piano,
And laughed hysterically all night long.
There were maybe forty kids,
In that little school.
And they all swore,
That they had seen the ghost of the school nurse.
I think Mr. Spinks did too.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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I bought a piano once because I had the dream of playing As Time Goes By as some girl's leaning on it drinking a martini. Great image. But none of it worked out. I can't even play Chopsticks. But I've got a nice piano at my house!
quote by George Clooney
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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