Violin Poems - Poems about Violin

Time seems to be picking up speed a freight train without engineer Hendrix electric guitar on amphetamines. Time is picking up speed children born yesterday wobbling off to college the next. Time used to be gentle like bike bells singing harmony with a summer breeze. somewhere. once upon a nursery rhyme time became an indifferent brute. A trickster taker-a mass grave maker playing the shell game whisking...

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There was a young man bought a pangolin but thought it was a mandolin to be played like a violin he tipped its scales 'til they creaked tweaked its tail so it squeaked and named the bow Anne Bowleyn...

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In fifth grade, I earned first place statewide for violin against the girl I half-loved— her fingers quicker, her lineage more illustrious— but that day, mine did not tremble. She chose a piece with fireworks and pitfalls— something by Tchaikovsky— I chose Barcarolle— plainspoken, sweet, a boat gliding through moonlight. I played it without flaw. She slipped once, only once. We both knew I’d won on a grace note— not brilliance, nor fire— just...

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no one listens until the voices start bleeding bowstrings...

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You entered my silence like a violin bow dragged with blood through shattered stained glass I sewed your laughter under my eyelids and lungs, and the light transformed into myriads of fragrant wounds I coughed wild moon petals for weeks, my mouth full of the echo of your ever-burning footsteps There is no cure for you, you are...

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marc chagall's equestrienne don't eat that violin painted in 1933 ...

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There once was a cat who was really quite fat his likes were pets, food, sleep but of music, not a peep when he saw the violin case he ran away, as if in a race...

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sounds of violin crying out in the dark desperate for one solitary ray of moonlight string along all lost souls who stray in the night AP: Honorable Mention 2025 Posted on February 3, 2025...

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My mournful violin, a wooden soul, Beneath my fingers, tales unfold. Each string a tear, a silent plea, For joys departed, lost to me. The bow, a phantom hand that sweeps, Across the wood, where sorrow sleeps. A haunting melody, a whispered sigh, Echoes of love, now past and gone, they fly. The music weeps, a mournful strain, Reflected grief, an endless pain. Each note...

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Poetic Diversion For Violin And No Orchestra planet shoes tiptoeing in cadences known to the mourning cloaks their soft landings on spread petals teach infinite lessons with splendid hot swishes fan-tailing silently the unseen cricket kisses rising and soaring like pepper tree phantoms saying life is a slow dance in the moonlight tall earring girl with perfume music blaring...

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So lovely to hear in a melancholic reel Those sweet melodies crossing valleys and hills, It's my last dance with you dad before giving my hands To the one I dearly love and live forever to my man. Sad violin in each soulful melody, A great reminder that I’m nurtured by you lovingly; For I’m old enough to be...

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Lamenting strings of my violin... how sorrowfully they wail as if they mourn for my mistakes, so many times I've failed. When my bow caresses them now, do they feel the pain within my heart, the emotional wounds from which it bleeds? "Why has love forsaken me?" my quivering voice pleads... with the same vibrato quavering from the violin's refrain. I...

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The violin seems to float in space, the bow slipping and sliding over my heart, the glow of tears falling down to earth, yet it stirs the silent wings of butterflies, fluttering as if pulling an endless thread from my silhouette. A dark gypsy soul with the moon shines, arms push and pull each note, like a sullen lullaby. The knockabout on...

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Sad violin tunes stir my heart. When played in the G minor key with vibrato, they can impart wistful memories that haunt me. The violinist bows his notes. Sad violin tunes stir my heart. When he plays this way, he emotes the ache I feel; this is his art. My dearest and I – now apart - still are waltzing inside my mind. Sad violin...

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Among all musical instruments specific fascination I hold for Violin , seemed to be most melodious. Also feeling nostalgic as my Dad played Violin for own relaxation, mainly...

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