PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

As if I could play like him I move my fingers to a classical melody,

Ascend in pitch and follow a crescendo,

Filled with eighth notes strung together,

Like Christmas lights blinking rapidly in succession.

Crossing over each other gently tapping each C note,

The octaves full and fill the room as I decsend,

Into a mass hysteria my soul becomes my ring finger,

Leaping over my thumb. 

Gently like a rock in the treble sea,

My hand smooths and flows and caresses itself,

Slowly sinks to the bass cleff the bottom of the mystery,

Here it is found I whisper to myself,

Here is the foundation for the prelude.

Rise says the sheet and play it well says my hand,

take each half step and make it joy, 

Follow the rythem of the flats say my eyes,

Be cautious of the half notes say my ears.

And out of the mystery the notes blend sweetly,

I play the pride of composers charmingly, 

As if I wrote the piece it is perfect,

As if I were a automaton synched with the music. 

But now in common time the melody is light and lively, 

My heart the power of my muse keeps the tempo,

I am the metronome my feet and heart chordinate together,

Slowly reaching the top of the sea,

And just like my body my hands coordinate,

The choir in my left hand follows the lone singer in my right. 

Dissonance I leave soflty humbly away,

My crescendo a warm memory from minutes ago,

I peek over the sea gazing with the audience,

They like me are in a trance of the waves, 

As loudly as it started I end a C chord as softly.