Piano lessons (first thoughts)

A piano came with the house. And I sat down with wonder. How does one play a song? Through arched fingers i pound, as elegantly as possible. Or as angrily as appropriate. The sound reverberates around. Or did it begin, start within, to flow through my veins? And perch a tune on fingertips?

Yes! piano lessons, teach me. Release me from this body. As a critic, shed my skin. Please, come bow with me in the end.

(Lessons are going well. Six lessons in and I can play simplified versions of Camptown Races, Yankee Doodle and Row, Row, Row Your Boat. I will spare you the torture. I am enjoying this experience though!)

heart’s agony

The wind barely caressed my cheek
whispering torment
I reached for the piano keys
tinged from yellow-aged days.

Folly, what folly.

For my transgressions
I wandered 40 days and 40 nights
the caved-in chest drew my breath
and the sands enveloped my feet.

Darling, you stole my innocence.

He, yes he gladly gave me fingers
I tenderly trotted across miles
of lust and fresh meadows.
The air a fragrant green.

My only sorrow, our music’s absence,
the silence more than two hearts can bare.
Remember me when the waves
wash ashore the black keys of death.

There was no way to polish what was left.

Dickinson

Emily sings me a love letter. She brings a deep understanding when humanness, in all cruelty and ugliness, shines through in a life well lived writing poetry. Look for the door where a wall exists.

You are a fictional character
in my head.
You standing at the foot
of my bed.

I try to touch you.
You are gone.
Whispering softy,
I don’t respond.

Dig deeper still.
What do you see?
I think we could be friends.
Do you recognize me?

 

Talking out loud is scary.
My voice trembles when I listen.
Choice words echo in my heart.
My soul quakes when it is seen.

Emily is a fictional character after all.
I talk to her for days. Wait.
Is she speaking?
Did she answer me?

 

I do not consider myself a poet like Emily.  No person’s words mimic another, our voices our own. I only enjoy her poems.