Music

The Concert Hall

An orchestral flood,

 

Loud and passionate,

 

The music reaches all corners of the Great Concert Hall,

 

A triumphant crescendo.

 

Near silence follows.

 

The tempo changes,

 

The volume drops,

 

A flute whispers.

 

A melody almost childlike,

 

Clear but barely audible.

 

A lullaby or a hymn,

 

Or a love song. Or a poem.

 

The audience listens in tense expectation.

View lozzamus's Full Portfolio

The Pianist

The pianist lifts his arms,

 

His hands come crashing down.

 

The bass notes growl, an ominous crescendo,

 

Warning of civil unrest and tension,

 

And of a Europe about to go to war.

 

The audience watches,

 

Hoping, praying that war will not come.

 

The pianist pauses, a brief silence that pulsates with uncertainty.

 

He lifts his wrists again, resuming the menacing trill in the bass,

 

His fingers working furiously as the growl grows in volume

 

And the temperature rises in the auditorium.

 

The audience stares.

 

A pause follows, and then a lament,

 

The work of a composer weeping for a lost love, for days gone by,

 

For his country, perhaps, and for his compatriots.

 

The pianist continues to play.

View lozzamus's Full Portfolio

The Unseen Violinist

The unseen violinist plays late at night;

 

Long drawn out tones that tremble with emotion;

 

A haunting Czardas set in harmonic minor;

 

Flattened Sixths that speak of other worlds;

 

Of longing and beauty and despair.

 

The tempo quickens, the mood switches.

 

The violinist’s bow dances across the strings,

 

Like a wagon speeding across a country path,

 

The sounds of the wheels echoing as the night sky watches.

 

The violinist plays with ease.

 

A lively dance.

View lozzamus's Full Portfolio

It's Late And I Need To Go To Sleep

Folder: 
Villanelles

It's late and I need to go to sleep.
'Twas giving myself fake expectations
For the light of the moon does creep.

 

There isn't a secret I should keep
That would, in advance, cause excitations.
It's late and I need to go to sleep.

 

Wait! There are musical notes I should leap
Across the beats and instrumentations,
For the light of the moon does creep.

 

Do I have the energy I should reap
For holding mixtapes in glorifications?
It's late and I need to go to sleep.

 

There are lyrics and samples much too deep
For this outsider musicfag in great notations,
For the light of the moon does creep.

 

Pity. Another night lost in the jeep
Of creative ideas, going in vibrations.
It's late and I need to go to sleep
For the light of the moon does creep.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

This is made on the fly right before I'm going to bed. Plus, this is the first poem I'm posting on Postpoems.org . Isn't that exciting?

Cry In My Sleep

 

 I Lost My Ability To Cry
I'm Hurting So Much
I Feel Hurt
I Feel Pain
I Want To Cry
But Theres Not Tears
Theres No Emotions
Hold Me Please


Because I Can't Feel My Arms
I Can't Feel My Legs Anymore
I Feel Like Crying
But I'm Dying In My Sleep
Waking Up With Dried Up Eyes
I Don't Remember Crying
I Don't Remember Sleeping
Chill Runs Through On My Skin


Crying Out In Pain
I Wish I Could Cry
For My Body Can't Take It Anymore
Is This What It Feels Like
Why Must I Feel So Cold
Why Must I Feel So Emotionless
Pieces Of My Heart
Tears In Pieces


I Wish Again
I Could Cry
Just Once More
If I Could Hold You
If I Could Hug You
And Tell You One More Thing
I Just Want To Cry
I Want To Cry On Your Shoulder

 

 

Supertramp Blues

Folder: 
Studio Recordings

Don’t be afraid

youve made it this far....

click on the link

to hear my guitar

 

https://soundcloud.com/user-888660817/supertramp-blues  

Band Competitions

Folder: 
2017

I always fall in love at band competitions.

Maybe it’s the fall weather,

or being surrounded by like-minded people

or maybe it’s just the magic of marching band.

 

Maybe it’s the adrenaline rushing through your veins

just before you walk out onto the field.

Maybe it’s knowing that you’ve spent hundreds of minutes

for the fifteen-minute performance of your life.

 

Marching band is practicing for hours on end

through blood, sweat, and tears.

It’s hearing that one section of music

that makes you picture you’re in a stadium.

 

Maybe it’s seeing all the time and energy

come together and finally be worth it.

Maybe it’s realizing that you’re part of something bigger

and that by playing music you can change the world

one note at a time.

 

Something about being at band competitions

makes me fall in love

but I think I am more in love with the music

than with the people.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 7/30/17

View hannah9712's Full Portfolio

To Write

To write
as I do
Is a seemingly hard
thought process
made easy
by words
written together
is an abstract
sort of way
to fill the readers mind
with mystery
Part sentence
Part phrase
which creates the illusion
of truth
Within these mysteries
is who I am
The words aren't difficult
and the structure
is simple
Look beyond
what you read
and you'll find
me.

               copyright 2018 by RW Erskine
Author's Notes/Comments: 

contact me at: artjwca@yahoo.ca

or

vist us at Ravenscraft Studios

https://ravenscraftstudios.weebly.com

View rwerskine's Full Portfolio