Best Violinist Poems
Violinist
Of all human evils
That happend in history
Bigger than Holocaust
It was not, and it will not be.
One Violinist was there
His life was violin string
He made the bloody nest there
Im telling you everything.
He had to wear the star
Because he was a Jew
That star was like a scar
For bloody nazi crew.
So he was the artist
Who reached the nazi camp
He was the one of the smartest
Anyway, he got a stamp.
At first, he had faith and hope
He fought as he knew and could
But slowly, he melted like soap
And totally surrendered.
The nazi butcher dug his eyes
Just because he looked at him
He felt like he dies
Nazi enjoyed his scream.
After that, he was like a shadow
He didnt look like a human being
He became dark, like a crow
He stoped to feel anything.
They called him once, to play,
The villains wanted it so
Their will was the only way
And only words that slaves know.
They found some old violin
And they gave it to him
Teached by their discipline
Inside that horrible brim.
He took it with his hads bony
His frail hands tremble
And in the depths of his agony
As human he resemble.
Violine on his chin fits
He plays, without eyes
From the empty eye pits
He almost feels like he cries.
Without his eyes, taken
It seems to him like he dreams
Old memories are awaken
Like he is out, it seems.
The butcher suddenly begin to sangs
He smells his horrible breath
Like beast, with sharp and bloody fangs
He sings of blood and death
He cast a violin,
After the verses of blood
He couldnt listen that terrible sin
From mouth of evil dud.
He desired death, and death came
He doesn't want to beg for his head
Every day is awful and same
Without eyes, he feels dead.
The wicked man fired at him
Brutally, without shame
He fell into mud, by the violin
His blessed End came.
But than, a miracle happened,
The miracle happen to chosen one
He saw his last sunset, blind
And to the Heaven his soul gone.
Zlatko Bato Zivkovic
Categories:
violinist, holocaust,
Form:
Elegy
I hear the straw hum
stretched chords groan and snag my heart
leaving me composed.
Categories:
violinist, happiness, imagination, life, love,
Form:
Senryu
Rays of light ravish the dark,
Breaths are held as if in fear,
Awaited moment treading near,
Eddy devouring the Noah’s Ark.
A figure in black, drunk with awe
Hair in ponytail, by Euterpe crowned
Oceans of hurray, thus the silence drowned
Moments are devoured by the hour’s maw
Bow raised to enamor
And violin by the chin
Then a haughty grin
Blossoming glamour
Fingers of Muse charm
Notes to dance with grace
Melodious rhythms pace
Ears’ wall to disarm
Words of sweet euphony
Crown soprano’s chant
In violin’s veins pant
Notes of divine symphony
Soft strings of soul
Delved in pure fantasy
In harmony’s ecstasy
Mind and matter become whole.
Categories:
violinist, art, imagination, music,
Form:
We could smell blood everywhere.
Sitting crouched against white,
Lifeless marble,
Our violins to our chins
As crusted black blood
Stuck, pleadingly,
To our music sheets.
We were to summon beauty in hell;
To compel the murderous to tears
And the dying back to life, but,
I could smell blood everywhere.
My heart gave out in a
Lurching throb.
My bow swam against the hair
And I, in mind, among the countless wasted.
This could happen anywhere.
And this happens everywhere.
Beauty in hell.
The fount of flowers in the black.
The smoldering sickness
Against sweet-lacquered intentions.
Blood is everywhere.
As we hunt blindly, stupidly,
For the grace of gauze.
Categories:
violinist, death, life, loss,
Form:
Free verse
There is an old man who lives all alone
inside a small house, but he used to be
a famed violinist. Now he’s unknown.
No audience or visitors has he.
It doesn’t matter to that man at all.
He sits and plays his violin all day.
He plays to the ceiling, floor and each wall
surrounding him. He simply loves to play.
Although there is no one to speak one word
to that old man, no sadness does he feel.
Inside a cage he keeps a little bird,
and for that bird, the old man plays with zeal.
The bird is more than just the old man’s fan.
It sometimes sings along with that old man!
Written Oct. 25, 2022 in a rhymed form
For Lisa YY's Painting Prompted Poetry Contest
Categories:
violinist, music,
Form:
Sonnet
The Violinist
He sits on the corner of a building
Four stories above the world below
Playing his violin day after day
No one knows his name
They just know that there is beautiful music
They imagine that is coming from Heaven
Does it matter to this lonely man?
He doesn’t care for fame or money
God has graced him with the gift of music
He could be a star
He could perform with a huge orchestra
He would rather play alone above the people
He plays just to make people happy
He loves it when people dance down the street
That man
That lonely man is an artiste
Too bad no one knows who he is
But that would not make him happy
Categories:
violinist, music, people, lonely, people,
Form:
Free verse
ate summer - gipsy violinist
In the immense mass of a green leaves
flashed the red and yellow ones
The promise of a change
messengers of the Fall
In the air floated certain undertones
of a melancholy and decay
The melody, as a raging river
owerfloaded from a trembling strings
The Violin sobbed with a plainitive note
its voice, penetrating
as an eye of a Sphinx
sent the shiver down my spin
and left the rest of me afloat.
The gipsy man drove his bow
as if it was a Devils tool
an arrow shot from the Hell
The moves stabbed to the heart
and pierced humans soul
and he kept playing
for few coins and understanding smile.
The whole day resonated with the joy
of a meadow if is filled
with the music of birds
and humming bees.
and with griefs
of dusty roads and endless journeys
With a passions
of the night under twinkling stars
with the beauty of a nomad life
with the secret of a fortune teller
with an eternal damnation.
Categories:
violinist, emotions, feelings, life,
Form:
Free verse
All the other musicians were so imprudent!
He was much wiser
He was much stronger
He was much more experienced...
They coveted him
Like the demons underground
Praying
Crying
Begging
To be the seraphs above
Living under the wings of God
He held his violin
Better than the woman who played the flute
The woman that placed her instrument
Between her divine lips
Music to the violinist was much more than a
k i s s
Such a meaningless kiss
That its taste would last only for a second or two
Such a meaningless kiss
A meaningless tune
That once it ended
It was forever forgotten
He held his violin
Better than the young man who played the guitar
The young man that placed his instrument on his lap
The young man that carelessly held his instrument
Music to the violinist was much more than a
d r e a m
On the lap
And in the arms
Of a lover seeking for
Vengeance
A dream so bitter
It would turn into a nightmare
The violinist embraced his violin
He loved it as much as he loved the maiden
He once had
He held it
In his arms
Nothing dissevered him from his violin
But the soft piece of cloth
That he placed his chin on
As he played his breath - taking music
Tears gushed out of his beautiful brown eyes
He caressed his violin
With its bow
The same way he stroked
His lovely maiden's fair curls
His guts swelled with pain
He longed to see her face once again
He suddenly stopped
And cried out
"If you would... d... die for me...
You must live for me too!"
After moments of silence
He continued playing his dear violin
With more passion
With more pain
And for a second there
He saw her!
He heard her!
His lovely maiden!
Whistling along with the tune
Inertly placed in his arms
Smiling back at him
As her soft fair curls covered most of her forehead
She giggled
"I love you..."
This poem goes to my dear grandfather... Mahmoud Kaabour... THE violinist...
May God's mercy be upon you...
Categories:
violinist, music, woman,
Form:
Free verse
Gorgeous Brady was only ten
when he grabbed an old violin,
which belonged to his wealthy grandpa
Jacob and started playing, " Lacrimosa.
Some chords sounded too awkward,
he persisted and finally got them right;
why did he play that song never heard?
Had he in mind a sweet serenade night?
Brady didn't show a sign of boredom,
but continued playing with confidence,
the small theater was missing an audience;
he didn't mind, he wasn't seeking stardom.
One could hear his impeccable passion through his music,
the notes were loud and shook the clock's pendulum;
his speed picked up a dramatic, operatic momentum...
a chorus of Ooh's Oh's would make it sound angelic.
" Bravo! " A well-dressed man stepped forward,
Brady stared at him and smiled for the compliment,
" May I know the name of this genius imitating Mozart?"
" I'm Brady and I live in the cobblestone building."
" Then you must be Jacob's nephew: the owner of the theater! "
Brady nodded and shook the maestro's hand sensing its power;
would you like to team up with Mark the orchestra pianist?
He agreed and went on to became a famous violinist!
Categories:
violinist, beauty, dedication, endurance, friendship,
Form:
Lyric
A violin plays
Softly in the breeze
Its melody floats in the
Air
A lone sparrow flies
Landing on the delicate violin
It turns to sand on the beach
The lone violinist
Weeps
He curses the sparrow
To no longer fly
Causing the sparrow
To wither and die
The violinist cries out
As he slowly turns to sand himself
And is swept into the sea
Categories:
violinist, beach, beautiful, irony, love
Form:
Free verse
Andre Rieu's a famous Dutch violinist
Started learning violin aged just five
My own personal opinion is that
He’s the greatest violinist alive!
He’s known as ‘King of the waltz’
A conductor and violinist supreme
The moment he plays the first note
Of the Blue Danube, I begin to beam
He plays music all over the world
With the Johann Strauss Orchestra
He owns ‘Ex captain Saville’ Stradivarius
It’s small wonder he’s a super star!
Categories:
violinist, music, tribute,
Form:
Rhyme
Demon violinist:
My fingers pluck the steal wires of my red ruby violin and as the sharp notes play, blackened blood drips down the base.
I am the demon who searches for prey, beckoning for contest.
Gaze into my eyes of sultry viciousness as the sweet lullaby lures you in. If you accept my tender be for warned that no mere mortal has ever beaten hells one man band.
When G minor shrills, rouge angels wail bellowing vain words of anger, cursing mankind’s existence.
Man’s blood boils and surges with hate.
Women’s loins ache with lust and uncontrollable urges and as for god himself he weeps.
So, Pick up your violin child and play till you’re fingers bleed!
And when you stop, when you’re raw bones can no longer move or even strike a cord, I will be waiting to take you home, to hell and there I will collect my reward, you pathetic human soul.
Categories:
violinist, devotion, fantasy, , Lullaby,
Form:
Ballad
… Violinist Play…
A Melody Today
Be My Accompaniment
And Ambient Confidant
… Violinist Play
A Tune For Me Today
You Have Skill To Squeeze …
Arrows - On Long-Bow Breeze
… Squeeze And Score Thru Symphony Halls
… Squeeze And Scale Up Bedroom Walls
… Squeeze And Scope Like Encore Calls
… Squeeze And Scald Like Tear Drops Fall
Bow – Back And Forth – Flash
Console A Soul’s Scar, Of Life’s Lash
The Whole Note – Rub Raw… Hold!...
Then Virtuoso, Soothe, Sympathize… Oh…
Violinist… Play Your Violin
Let Your Noble Bow Begin
Place Your Pose, So Elegant
A Classical Chin Attendant
Beneath Your Nose, A Fragrant
Solo Flows Transcendent
Your Wrists, Are Wine At Banquet
And Your Fingers Are The Quartet…
… Squeeze – Like A Lung’s Last Breath
… Squeeze – Like A Last Hope From Death
… Squeeze – Like Love’s Heartbeat Won’t Rest
… Squeeze – Like Lifting From An Ocean’s Depth
… Violinist Play
Be My Duet Today
For Like The Last Sweet Crumb Of A Croissant
I Want To Savor A Violin – So Vibrant
Categories:
violinist, life, music
Form:
Narrative
What’s haunting is beautiful -
it’s only the depth of violins
that invade the brain
strumming slowly,
painfully
like a saw tearing away a limb.
Saline water bubbles
at the corner of the lids
like a dam ready to burst
with its thicket of splinters
splashing open toes.
red rain runs vicariously, living
the torture of a violinist.
The rise in tempo —
a brimming cascade of limbo,
years counted as dead.
The sliding of the bow,
flicker of finger matches -
lightning quick.
What makes one sick
but the rhythm of waves
felt to the quick.
1/13/2020
Categories:
violinist, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
With longing, the thought of her burns,
secret — mischievous, rather sinful touches,
curls of hair,
dissolved by white breasts
And screams scream painfully in the temples.
It's a long time before dawn.
Imagination played out,
on the edges of soft beds,
catching her trembling shadows.
This night she is not here,
she left me, still hope wrapped in a white handkerchief.
The moon sang over the plain,
cheering the warm wind,
which, like unhappy divorced women,
wept and cried in the branches of the pines,
under which I waited for it.
In this night, the colors of a sad violinist.
Categories:
violinist, beautiful, joy, love, magic,
Form:
Free verse