The rhythm is loud
It bounces against my skull
Then it begins to quietlike tiptoeing down the steps on a Christmas eve
As cheerful
Then turning somber
The sound hits my ears
Like a person does as he attempts to prosper
Pushing past forces even unknown
Ignoring the side issues that are half grown
The somberness turns into a chase
Between the two ears as though they are having a race
One wins
The other quits
The sound is picking up to be put down
Oh how I can relate
A piano melody can tell a tale as a piece of art does
There is the climax it rises and it ceases
To be brought back similar to a lifestyle habit
It quits so it can start again
Rapidly
Constantly
Sometimes enthusiastically
Sometimes without being noticed
Oblivious to the naked eye
Pure poetry in notes
A temptress plays
Silent as she plays the piano
A melody of my heart
A beat representing an increase in pace, a simple more direct breathing, then a lighter way of expressing grace
Along with how someone may find there way
A soft but humble beat...
It picks up
Confused on where to go
The keys probably never knew a home
The orphan keys cuddle against the fingers for warmth
And thus creating music
A fast pace exposition
A rising climax
A Declining resolution
And then a loop
It doesn't cease
It starts again
Because this melody and I are surely friends...
Why lose such a thing such as a melody
The sound
Ticking in my mind
Within this matter of time
Slowly the keys cuddle against the fingertips in the harsh cold of the breeze
Then as the keys are poked
This is made....
A rising sound
An intoxicating sound
A memorable
One
Filled with distraught upon which is unrecognizable to the ears
A piece of such beauty
Soft to the people
Loud to the era
It rises again
Then it lowers
And it comes back stronger
Call and response
Oh how wonderful....
As it fades.....
It picks up
Fades..
Pick-up
Fades
picks up
Until.... it struggled to remain warm
The keys cuddle more
Letting out a dying breath
A moment of fresh air
Taking their last stand
Until......
They are slowly brought to
Hell
Where it will remain warm for them
Not a punishment... a privelidge..
This is poetry...
YOU ARE READING
A COLLECTION OF MY FEELINGS
PoetryMy own poetry which I use to express myself. I sometimes feel like I'm not supposed to be on planet Earth and all my life I have to cope with these different choices and scenarios that do more harm than help. It is up to me to push through it, but I...
