Dusty from the days work
a rugged dark look,
and his hat pulled down his brow -
a longly man, a gangly fellow
his arms flopping at his sides
in one a case, and in the other -
a time stained paper.
He wanders down the street
the dark shadows
leaking their velvety tears
down his front,
His head tipped towards
the dirty concrete, below his feet.
He wanders till the streets
grow thin, and the lights no more.
He wanders till the houses cease,
and asphalt turns to dust.
He wanders till the moon shines whole
and the starts sing brightly.
He looks up, only to glance at his friend.
A large mangled trunk,
chipping bark greet this man.
In the moonlight, his suit shows
a hue of green, so dark – matching
the shadowed grass.
His hat the same color,
he tips to the tree and bids it goodmorn' -
The tree answers back with
a slow flick of the leaves...
He sets his case, at the base
of his old friend.
Slowly opening it,
undoing the latches -
the tree creeks in glee.
Out he draws -
a mahogany violin.
The skin of deep red -
beautiful curves,
and alluring sheen -
and a bow, held high
in the other -
he comes down hard
upon the seemingly fragile
strings of the violin
a deep soulful
moan, comes from the
instrument -
a voice of passion,
longing... and fever.
The notes drift slowly
foggily through the dry
weeping summer air.
The tree above him
shudders – as if
tiny goosebumps risen in it's bark.
He brushes the violin again,
and again the instrument moans
soulfully, and sadly into the air -
notes wavering;
drift wood, bobbing in the current
of an ocean -
a thousand miles wide.
The birds rustle in the trees
surrounding...
wondering where this melancholy
tune is born.
Glistening eyes yellow and black,
hidden behind dark laden leaves
the tallest grasses, and the thickest weeds
come to watch this man,
to play his heart upon a page
each note a new word, a sentence -
added to his life.
His thin hat, wavering upon
his bobbing head -
he plucks a bit faster
the notes coming quicker
higher now,
an optimistic tone
of stringed notes
calling shrillfully
out to the sun
whom has hidden his face
beyond the baleful horizon
deep in slumber, and buried
in dream.
His skillful fingers flash up and down
her blackened neck -
swooning smooth legato
from the deep throat of his
mistress
But, slowly backing off -
his bow hardly touches her
copper wires, yet a soft soulful
voice sings out
Slowly he brushes
his notes lively and intoxicating,
yet soft and captivating -
he brushes his pallet
first with deep.. slow reds...
then lively... emerald greens – vivaciously
and thirdly... a soft golden amber – beautifully
and finally -
The sky behind him, a dark reddening hue -
the sun awakening to the alluring strumming
of a single man, in a suit of green..
and finally -
the last stroke comes,
the hardest, resonating beauty
in waves – around the country side -
lingering in the awakened ears,
and
always remembered by the twisted ears of the
oldening oak,
whom bows in awe,
of the magnificent man in emerald
at the base of her roots -
a single grasshopper,
in a suit of pure green
and upon its hands,
a violin, of mahogany.
Author notes
I'm pretty happy about this one...
=]
~Enjoy!
In a list
Be honest here.
Comments
1 - 21 of 21
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The idea of the different notes being like different color's on a painters pallet is beautiful. i'd really like to know where the muse for this one came from
-edit- oh and the spelling is "Mahogany" sorry, im a spelling nazi nowadays -
This one is excellent you know, I have a difficult time with very lengthy poems but still if I start a read I will finish it and this one was well worth it.
One of the things that drew me in is that I once learned to play the violon as a child but dropped it after two years and never touched one again.
what a way to close it out though, and thank you so much for sharing you wonderfull talent.
I like it, I like it so!
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You should be very happy about this one, it is magnificent. I love how you turned the music into colors of painter's pallet and the ending with the grasshopper reference to the man in the green suit. It kept me totally enthralled the whole way through. I have absolutely no critcism to give.
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Inspiring
This is an amazingly beautiful poem. It has wonderful imagery. I'm a violinist myself and this poem represents the beauty of the violin so perfectly. I would just capitalize the first line and take out the comma in the last line.
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A beautiful poem.
The tale is well constructed, some of diction needs a little work, and the relationship between man and instrument could be strengthened and explored, I think the tree is wonderfully presented, and there is scope within that to even more descriptive, to strengthen further the mystery of this lonely journey.
A very good poem, be proud. thank you.
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I think that you have used some very creative figures of speech that give this piece stunning imagery. Still, I think that the poem could use some trimming and more emotionally driven figures of speech to replace some of the less interesting descriptions (such as those describing colors best left to imagination of the reader).
The poem seems to focus on the relationship between the player and the tree, so the discriptions and relationship between the player and the violin might be better saved for another poem.
I think you have the beginnings of something very wonderful and mesmerizing here.
s and best wishes always... ~Genie~
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You paint a lovely image here, but it needs refining - and cutting. The image gets lost in the words.
You have some incredible lines:
a longly man, (love that)
He wanders till the moon shines whole - this gives us an indication of the hour - somewhere around midnight when the moon has risen
I have a problem with your trying to describe a color by moonlight - it doesn't work. Color is pretty much washed out in the moonlight. It is very hard to determine an actual color such as dark green. In the moonlight, it would look black. If you want to describe the color, that's fine, but you shouldn't be saying it shines green in the moonlight - because it wouldn't.
You used the word "whom" twice and both times it was incorrect. "Whom" is the objective case of "who" and neither time was it the object of any other word. It should just be who.
You have used adverbs rather freely. Sometimes a writer can't help that; other times, it would sound better written another way:
upon the seemingly fragile
strings of the violin
would go better with the sound of your poem (and get rid of the adverb "seemingly") if you said:
upon the fragile seeming
strings of the violin
Sometimes the adverb you use just isn't a word:
calling shrillfully
out to the sun
It should be "shrilly", delete out.
And finally, it's extremely wordy and it doesn't have to be. This is a hard one to work on. I'm as guilty of it as anyone. You write this beautiful piece with all these lovely words - you've got time, effort and affection invested in those words. Some are even favorites. Nonetheless, your poem loses its power with all those words. You could probably cut a third of them and tell your story better.
I love the fact that you are only 16 and writing a poem like this - a story and not about yourself. That shows a level of maturity as a writer not usually found in a teen - simply because you haven't been writing that long. You've got a really lovely start. You said you're happy with this and well you should be. I hope you like it enough to work on it more. It deserves it - and so do you as a writer.
celtic queen
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I love the personification of the tree and violin, And the imagery of the streets too. It is as if everything has a face of human sorrow and joy. The picture you have painted here is dynamic and heartfelt. Great diction, not a word out of place This write has the delicacy of playing a violin. Beutifully written. So much grace and the imagery is so colorful and vivid, the landscapes change without interruption.
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I think that the violin is one of the most beautiful instruments in the world. It has such a grace to it, such a mystery. You have captured all of this in your poem. It's a bit long and wordy at times, but it runs together very well. It sort of reminds me of the movie The Red Violin. You should watch that sometime if you are into violins at all. Bravo on a beautiful piece
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Great job!I loved every minute of the poem.Your use of imagery is brilliant,best wished, Dream
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As a guitarist who has a deep affinity for mahogany, I love the thoughts here. As a nature enthusiast, I appreciate the imagery. As a poet, I love to see when a poem this long and complex can really pull it off. All I can say, is Bravo!
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Oh, this is beautiful. There's splendid imagery all over the place, and I don't think I could pick a favorite part; even though it was long, you pulled the length off well. There's just one edit- the title is spelled wrong (:
It should be "mahogany," not "mohogany."
Amazing write.
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This was long, but it was very beautiful. You told a beautiful story; it was sensual and artistic and magical all at the same time. (oh, and don't forget musical.
)
My favorite lines:
'swooning smooth legato
from the deep throat of his
mistress'
Very stunning write here.
~Cassie
PS: Thank you for the comments on my poems, too!
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wonderful
Your story telling ability is magnificent. And also your words are from a true musician (I am assuming so much passion in your words are from experience). I agree with Flame-demise, I wish I could hear it read aloud to amplify the sounds of the violin with your beautiful discription. I have to say that I didnt expect the ending which made the experience even better. Great work, I love it.
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have u ever watched la corda d'oro
its a great poem la corda d'oro is a movie that could connect to this poem except you can only watch it on the computer i hope you love violins because this i a lovely song for u by Sakura Avalon
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Fantastic Imagery
This picture you have laid out before me is beautiful and so real I could close my eyes and see it. It made me long to be there. It made me want to learn to play the violin. It was absolutely awesome. I also wish it could be read aloud to me, I feel like I lost something in the fact that I couldn't get your opinion of where emphasis and pauses should go...
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excellant
"happy" as well you should be. Maturity beyond your years ( if that is possible ) Nicely writ and creates images of an alternate reality.
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Stearted off slow but the second part where he started playing the violin. Excellent descriptions.... and therafter. Perfect. Great pun near the end and final wrap up. Seems a shame that only nature has tuned in.
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Im excited about this one too!!! A lovely story has developed here. Thank you for sharing this and I look forward to more.
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You should be...this is a beautifully rich and wonderful story told with emotion and feeling... Your skill and artistry match those of the artist portrayed... Well done!
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well worth the time to read--captivating...your words were oviously carfully chosen
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