Violin Poems

Life Is Like A Violin's Sound

As the maestro meticulously draws sound from the strings,
Feelings and sensations the music brings.
A skilled violinist performing with skill,
Can lull your heart and make it still.

The maestro has a story to tell,
And with his violin he tells it well.
Quickly rising with a higher pitch,
Then fallings again as in a ditch.

Bow across strings faster and faster,
A

Winter 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

Fiddlesticks

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

Interment

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

violin

no one listens
until the voices start
bleeding bowstrings

You entered my silence like a violin bow dragged with blood

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

Don't Eat That Violin - Chagall

marc chagall's equestrienne

                         don't eat that violin

painted in 1933

                      

The Cat and the Violin

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

tears in the dead of night

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

My Mournful Violin

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

Poetic Diversion For Violin And No Orchestra

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

Sad Violin, O Heart of Mine

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

Mournful Cries of My Violin

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

The Violin of Old

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

Sad Violin Tunes

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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