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. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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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

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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

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I couldn’t play a brass instrument — I tried but I was really bad — I couldn’t play the flute, and the accordion was a keyboard so it was easy.

Yann Tiersen in interview in musicOMH (2010)Report problemRelated quotes
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I think one of the best things you can do, no matter what you play, is to take up piano. Music is based on chord changes and harmonies, and you can get 'em more out of an instrument like piano, where you can hear all the notes at once.

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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. BastasaReport problemRelated quotes
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Well, I would say that music just happens with me, I'm not in the driver's seat when I am at the piano, the piano is.

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Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Music In The Flat

When Tom and I were married, we took a little flat;
I had a taste for singing and playing and all that.
And Tom, who loved to hear me, said he hoped
I would not stop
All practice, like so many wives who let their
music drop.
So I resolved to set apart an hour or two each day
To keeping vocal chords and hands in trim to sing and play.

The second morning I had been for half and hour or more
At work on Haydn’s masses, when a tap came at my door.
A nurse, who wore a dainty cap and apron, and a smile,
Ran down to ask if I would cease my music for awhile.
The lady in the flat above was very ill, she said,
And the sound of my piano was distracting to her head.

A fortnight’s exercises lost, ere I began them, when,
The following morning at my door, there came that tap again;
A woman with an anguished face implored me to forego
My music for some days to come – a man was dead below.
I shut down my piano till the corpse had left the house,
And spoke to Tom in whispers and was quiet as a mouse.

A week of labour limbered up my stiffened hand and voice,
I stole an extra hour from sleep, to practice and rejoice;
When, ting-a-ling, the door-bell rang a discord in my trill –
The baby in the flat across was very, very ill.
For ten long days that infant’s life was hanging by a thread,
And all that time my instrument was silent as the dead.

So pain and death and sickness came in one perpetual row,
When babies were not born above, then tenants died below.
The funeral over underneath, some one fell ill on top,
And begged me, for the love of God, to let my music drop.
When trouble went not up or down, it stalked across the hall,
And so in spite of my resolve, I do not play at all.

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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 VernezzeReport problemRelated quotes
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The piano is the X factor. People have a tough time following the structures when there's no piano there, spelling it out. It makes it more easily understood, particularly to people who don't know as much about music.

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Just Replace With A Piano

Rachael for weeks
many months wanted
her own baby sister.

She would
ask every day almost
when would
she have a baby sister.

Then late last weekend
to a new mall we went
explored floors twister.


There we found
a display promotional
new pianos for sale.

Rachael looked
listened sat played
upon piano keys.

Time stopped keys
to sound rhythm excited
merging mind ruptured.


Music appreciation passions
were born hand to mind
excited a four year old soul.

Ability to create notes
instant choice inspirational
rang within mind to soul.

Next day at breakfast Rachael said
"if this family doesn't want
a baby just replace with a piano."


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I started studying music at the age of five and a half. My older sister was taking piano lessons. When her teacher left our apartment, I would get up on the piano bench and start picking out the notes that were part of my sister's lessons.

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The Piano Lurched

Contact was sharp…

I jolted from immediacy of senses torn from mind:
Such was I at unawares with you –
To strike with Master’s single chord that pounced and caught me blind –
Piano, how you lurched and rent me through!

Delightful music welcomed me to drift in quasi-syncope:
Soft tranquillo sought to rest my bones –
I glided reaching largo; sang with sweet cantabile, and
Forte let me in to louder tones.

I cried with lacrimoso; squirmed when agitato flared;
My hearing rang when fingers danced the trill.
And so it was, this maestro grand was genius declared –
Acting out in music for the thrill.

Translating pen to piano, this player takes me back thro’ time…
In the chamber, fine composers charm:
I watch the manic hands of Liszt abound with tunes sublime;
Mozart teased my mood with stark alarm.

Then entered Bach to demonstrate his mathematic flare,
Calculating notes supreme of form.
And I – the minion audience – sat wanting in my chair,
Having heard my idols all perform.

Did Darwin’s theory tell at all why Man evolved this way?
Why would music help him to survive?
But scientific muse had veered my thoughts from this display, and
Music called: ‘Just listen - you’re alive! ’

The maestro draws conclusion; lets the piano die a death
To stand as wood, inert just as before –
A pollished casket lined with keys, at calm from naught of breath,
Bade me scream: ‘Bravo! ’ and ‘Hail! Encore! ’

He wakes the box to dance again with noble works of art:
Resurrected; fully primed with zest.
Now even I was back to life with reason in my heart –
Heightened from the pounding in my chest.


Copyright © Mark R Slaughter 2009
All rights reserved


music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music
music music music music music music music

poem by Mark R SlaughterReport problemRelated quotes
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Appassionata

The piano holds in his core
The Beethoven's 'Appassionata'
The piano keys are virgin teeth
Ripping the melody
Into sounds
Allegro Assai
Andante con moto - attacca
Allegro, ma non troppo - Presto
We eat those sounds
for making love continuously,
Yes, my love,
seemingly continuously
In the river of life
Flowing in cascades
Our feelings are sometimes orchids
Some other time they are only
Possession and control
Of something
Which epitomizes
The conflict
Between both the beauty and danger....
Suddenly
I need to say ''I love you''
And I do not need to change the meaning. of these words.


Copyright © ® Marieta Maglas

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I play the piano a lot at home. I write songs on the piano and guitar. I would like to actually play piano on stage. I don't think I'll get the chance for a while.

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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

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George Clooney

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!

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Nature Plays Music!

Nature plays game using sea, wind, tree, sky
Like fingers playing on the key board of piano!
Dashing waves, thudding waves, hissing waves
Are different notes of music of all Nature knows!
Oozing or howling sound is the music of storms;
Hissing sound of breeze is the music of spring
And many sounds of music produced by nature
Everybody cannot forget along with the smell sure!
Simple harmonic waves are the rhythmic beat music
Every heart and verse of poet has like the ticking time
Or the works of mind nonstop till the end of time here!
Wind passing through flute or saxophone is nice to hear
Like the vocalist produces various rhymes of music
Forming natural base for all songs we enjoy in life forever!

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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 MaglasReport problemRelated quotes
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The Sounds of Music

Music is everywhere and in every way
Music is filtered sound - sweetness to the ear
Music is the memory of every YESTERDAY
Music is melodius - the sounds we love to hear.

Vibrations sounding in a hollow tube
Vibrations echoing from a string that's bowed
Vibrations stiring in two hearts in tune
Vibrations in a seed - when it is sown!

Instrumental music - calms the mind
Instrumental music - stirs the muse
Instrumental music - can be kind
Instrumental music - cures the blues

Woodwind - Brass - Percussion - Vocal - Strings
Allegro - lento - molto forte or piano
In tonal interacton the orchestration sings
Tenor - alto - bass - and bel canto saprano

Man made music - scores of scores and arias
Pop - Jazz - Classic and - of course - the Blues
Man made music - passed from Sons to Fathers
Regge - Gamelin - Folk and Country muse.

Mozart - Uematzu - Straus - Isaac and Cooke
Merriwether - Unseld - Schmitt - Ibert and Chen
Messiaen - Unibe - Schultz - Ireland and Crook
All have ther pride of place - all have their ZEN!

Music can uplift the heart and soul
Music can enlighten all our minds
Music can encapsulate all our life - the whole
Music sure can help us - our way to love to find!

Never denigrade the least musician
Never ever pass a busker by
Never laugh at X-factor perdition
Just let the sounds of music make you FLY!

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The Music Comes And Goes

by: Tripp

the soothing sounds of a piano to a guitar the sounds they make
the feeling It brings when the piano sings playing the strings of a guitar
the times come and goes as the music grows


in the heart of those who play
thinking of that one thing that brings epiphany to that instrument you play
as you hold and take care playing with hopes and dreams the music slips through
and sings


i can't get enough of what it does to me
when i hear that sound that voice

the music she brings to my heart when I'm with her
her voice is the epiphany to my heart
holding on to her the music keeps playing

my heart keeps beating as the music plays
i keep dreaming dreaming holding on hoping this song will never end
dreaming to fall in love with this instrument forever


she is my instrument

poem by Preston TripReport problemRelated quotes
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