Long Pianist Poems
Long Pianist Poems. Below are the most popular long Pianist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pianist poems by poem length and keyword.
Rain falls like the tears of some unseen god.
Tapping against my window like the persistent fingers of a pianist.
The music is out of tune, and the wind provides the groaning song.
I'm so used to it but I'm tired of starting over.
This emptiness eclipses the memories of feeling whole.
My life is a book full of pages falling out.
My tears race down my cheeks eager to escape my ugly face.
Sifting through discordant thoughts not sure which are real.
Mind trapped in a haze forever damned by fear.
This buzz in my ear is all too familiar.
Ringing out like church bells but also like an alarm.
If bliss cannot be found I'll drink until I find the abyss.
We're born to die, to be expendable.
The life of man is unceasing agony.
A wall once full of friends and loved ones is devoid of life now.
And all I have to show for my experiences is hate and crippling anxiety.
Every shadow becomes sinister.
Every noise is a nuke dropping on my mind.
I have been forsaken by reason.
And as the rain washes over my face I close my eyes.
With these tears I regurgitate the lies.
I'm a loser and sooner or later you know I'll be dead.
Sooner or later...I'll be dead.
A country,
They like to take it,
But democracy is not sufficient here,
This magic paradoxically does not help fox Herod,
But help to resist,
A big part of the population comes from a tradition of Christian orthodoxy,
Fathers' vineyard of unity,
Therefore king Ahab goes to Jezebel the queen,
On the throne, lodge Masonic,
She chooses two worst witnesses,
Two tendencies in society, the state, and the people,
Nationalist idolatry and the corruption of money and bodies,
A bad leader,
Pianist and comic,
Jacquouille the visitor (from the french movie),
In the place of Jesus,
The tragedy,
Say Prophet Elijah, now from the Apocalypse,
When the beast rises from the bottomless pit,
The house of Ahab with little children,
Fire kisses the buildings of this business,
Multiplied by the number of my applause and cheer,
The mirror under star of Christmas,
Nevertheless intercept the evil,
May the tragedy return from its origins,
Lord Love without third cheek,
Go like a thief,
The mirror of justice,
The former antique borders by Christian Councils,
Like a body without obvious tumor and malignancy,
What who sin —
In the same way, return the sickness, illness and disease,
Multiplied by six and six...
Mister Alfred
Mister Alfred
Alfred, the pianist who is also my father
although he denies the paternity vehemently,
was in Hawaii and played the ukulele with
Had little success and returned to Europe.
Alfred, the pianist and also my father, could
get the sweetest tones when he played and
women swooned in other men’s arms,
was when not playing of a rather sullen nature
He spent the day walking around town with
In an alpaca jacket and a French bonnet, he looked ever
artistic, and I followed him around, once when I fell
A bollard got in the way; he did help me up and
I`m not your father!
Alfred, the pianist and also my father, got to be
ninety-two, and in the last years of his life was glad
to have a son, even if it was a fake one, as Alfred
was fond of pointing out
There was an annual gala party
going on last Friday;
from the large crowd suddenly
emerged a gorgeous lady
with a dazzling red gown:
she wasn't wearing a crown!
The young pianist noticed her
and started playing slow jazz music,
to thrill her and seduce her,
but it didn't sound too romantic;
he realized that my obsession was dire...
I warned him saying, " Desiree is all mine! "
Desiree was hard to resist,
I asked for a dance and she agreed;
Desiree's eyes were big and green:
I was the king, she was the queen,
and we danced like royalty.
Debbie watched us with a look of envy,
she stood there enraged and silent...
wanting me to hold her instead!
I threw Desiree a hot kiss
with the gesture of a lady's man,
giving away my admirer's weakness...
showing infatuation;
Desiree winked at me
delightfully and kindly!
With hearts and minds inflamed,
with a desire grown too wild
and a pulsing heartbeat inside,
we sent across a mutual feeling of likeness:
an intentional, flirtatious glance;
an exciting and magical night awaited us...
staring at the fluffy snow slowly falling outside!
Hello Stranger
Hello, Stranger, I said with half a smile.
We shared glances, across a soft-lit room.
My eyes fell upon you, as you turned to walk away.
But you stopped, just out of reach,
stopped, smiled and said hello.
We both stepped forward, timidly,
stumbling on our every word.
Face to face, began the magic.
“Don’t tell me your name.” I whispered.
Afraid my words would dissolve the moment.
“I want to remember you by your smile.
The timid smile that you presented
when you first looked my way.
I want to remember the shyness,
in that twinkle of your eyes.”
We both knew something was happening,
almost scared to look away.
The pianist played a melody and
the softness of the notes
floated through the spacious room.
For just a moment, it was you, it was me.
Our hands touched lightly and our fingers intertwined.
Our essence seemed familiar, perhaps
from a lifetime, a time before today.
No matter where this night takes us,
I will remember you, by your smile,
and the twinkle in your eyes.
All you have to do is listen to his music
Most importantly, listen...
To that haunting, booming velvet voice of his
His signature song is "Unforgettable"
The man himself, is that, and much more
One of the greatest interpreters of song
That America, and the world over, has ever produced
More than just a great singer
He was a truly gifted pianist as well
The first African-American to host a national TV show
One of the very few African-American entertainers
To be embraced by White America in a very segregated America
That glory came with a price
He had to constantly deal with racism
In practically all facets of his life
And he did it all with class and quiet dignity
Despite being a trailblazer
Despite being one of the most successful musicians
Of his era, he remained a humble man
Until his untimely death on February 15th, 1965
At the young age of 45 from lung cancer
Long gone, much too soon, but he continues to live on
Through his music. The late, great Nat King Cole
If I could, I would bring him back, in a heartbeat
Who Would You Bring Back in A Heartbeat Poetry
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and posted: 10/05/2018
An orchestra in Melbourne
Is embroiled in a dispute
With a concert pianist who had
A horn he had to toot.
He told the audience he’d play,
Not Mozart, as was planned,
But new music as a tribute
And he hoped they’d understand.
His friend composed the piece to honor
Journalists who’d died
In Gaza and his thoughts about
The war he could not hide,
Putting all the blame on Israel.
He can feel that way, of course,
But a concert’s not the venue
To trap listeners by force.
There were repercussions, naturally,
And lawyers are involved,
But no matter what the outcome,
What should clearly be resolved
Is that concerts are for music
And, with classics in demand,
All political discussion
Should be absolutely banned.
The struggle
High determination
The effort
Through the pain and agony
My famous Great Uncle’s whose parents were slaves on a plantation in the South
Their lives uncertain
A son destined to cut the ties that bind in making something of his life
It was self-encouragement and inspiration
Every chance my Great Uncle got, he practiced on a piano for hours, days, weeks and nights
Training his fingers to be masterpiece of perfection
Wasn’t easy during the slavery days
A slave had to stay in their place, and be obedient to the plantation masters
Simply, surrendering
Having no morals nor principles
However, surrendering was not going to be an option for my famous Great Uncle
Breakout and change the melody of opposition
My Great Uncle had a plan and was going to escape and head North
He couldn’t tell his parents that he was leaving the plantation, but seeing that their son was gone, they were thinking he would be dead
In essence, he made it North
Years into years led to the direction of preserver
Harlem Nights was a start
It was the Cotton Club on 125th Street
Nights were clear and displaying the Moon
Once my famous Great Uncle Eubie hit those ivories, it was introduction for everyone to explore the dance floor
The Jazz music being hot
One could tell as the dance floor full of sweat
Tempo and rhythm had a meaning for entertainment
Years revolved to another, my Great Uncle Eubie had a name and became famous as an extraordinaire Jazz Pianist having the ranks of Composer, Producer, Actor and of course the music metric
My Great Uncle Eubie appeared on Broadway in many shows and one of the shows he produced was SHUFFLE ALONG that was on Broadway many times
To highlight his Achievements through his Accomplishments, a play of honor called “EUBIE” was produced in 1985
Gregory and Maurice Hines being one of the star dancers
Great White Way on Broadway
My Great Uncle Eubie is represented at the Smithsonian Afro-American Museum in Washington, DC
The inspiration
The education
No holds barred.
So fondly I remember,
We would gather ‘round and sing
Mom on the piano, as Christmas
Melodies would ring.
Music always brought us joy,
Come and join us, by all means!
Come fill the house with melodies,
Saxes, trumpets, violins!
We would try to sing our parts,
Smiling all the while together
Building gilded memories
As we cavorted all together.
Now we live in different places
And our pianist has gone home,
But we will gather ‘round in heaven
And sing again near heaven’s throne.
There, angelic chorus
And all of heaven’s host-
Will raise our mightiest praise
To the God we love the most.
How I thank Him for my family
Whom I’ll see, I don’t know when,
But I look forward to the day
When we’re gathered ‘round again.
Another Sunday evening at the street-corner
next to the coffee parlour, overlooking the ocean
The solo pianist with desert-lime eyes
sits once-again on the piano chair.
His hair,a Honeysuckle-brown
with a salt and pepper tint
sways in the summer breeze
under the old wrought iron street-lamp.
Passers-by gather in a crowd
and listen to symphonic sounds.
Like on those many yesterdays
when She sat down on the old oak wooden bench
to listen to his baritone voice and melodic tune
Close enough, to capture the glow upon his face
through the soft embrace of a cradle-moon.
His fatigued- hands wear early youth
which match the embers of his heart
His fingers bleed between the keys
of black and white, as crimson red
wakes up the passion-rose inside.
Before each note, within each pause
Its there He thinks of her ..
The one who turned his every page
The brown -eyed ,sun-kissed island girl.
All vibrant colours fill up his mind
Her somber soul He seeks to find
Her shadow still craves to belong
wrapped in his arms and every song.