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Violin Tears

Weaving its magical way into my very being
Comes a sweetness found only in its listening
Deep within my feeble mortal frame’s keeping 
I do love listening to a mournful violin weeping
A strange melancholy is woven by bow and string
Its soft melody enables my fragile heart to sing 
Seduced by sadness, I hear those sweet notes play 
Yet the hearing of the tune brightens my every day
A beautiful haunting sound of tragedy and tears
Caressing my emotions, while soothing all my fears
Gentle tears fall on my face as I recall any past regret
I smile to myself as I have learnt not to worry or fret
What is done is now gone, it is consigned to history 
What is to come is the making of a precious memory

Patrick Brennan © 2010

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Gavin Pattison

Date: 6/14/2010 12:30:00 PM

Well written, your prose flow with great lucidity - I loved the last three lines- I believe it is true that we humans cling to the past or attempt to build our future in the image of good times, this was well put in Fitzgerald's Tender is the Night- "The thin tunes holding lost times and future hopes in liason twisted upon the swiss night, in the lulls of the phonograph a cricket held the scene together with a single note." Thanks for this poem. Regards, Gavin.

Danielle White

Date: 6/14/2010 4:40:00 AM

Reduce this poem to the first 5 lines and it would be perfect. (Not that the rest is bad, it's just unnecessary-everything you meant & needed to say was said in the first 5 lines-) You've got talent, obviously. Re-read and edit, edit, edit! The beauty is in saying something so poignantly with a few choice words. ***Danielle***