This topic makes me happy. Where did all you people come from? I didn't think I'd get a bunch of people participating. I suppose everyone's an artist in some way, maybe...
To those who have posted stuff, what do you plan on doing/what have you done with it? Anything? I guess my big question that fascinates me is
what compels you to do this?
I think Demosthenes needs some kudos. I liked Missing Monday. I like everything! Oh dear.
One more poem from me. It's a bit dated by my standards being over a year old. Just a tad juvenile-sounding at times. It's also about artistry.
"A Recluse, A Piano, and A Muse"
In the midst of relentless mist and charcoal skies
Sits an hollow mansion in the woods up north
To which the kids of town would venture forth
To witness the spectacle of sound with their own eyes
In pursuit of this hidden house, the kids were worn
Splintered feet, bodies weighted and wet
He knows their there, or does he yet?
The man and his piano seem to have solely their bond adorned
Under a soggy roof stretching on swaying walls
They are poised, testing the rotted boards
Absent windows and knotted floors
But purpose can't be ignored when opportunity calls
Bound to a bench, he spends his days
Arpeggio, arpeggio, minor lift
All in his mind is where it is writ
And every thing is in its right place
With his back to the voyeurs, he sways with grace
Never can such eloquence be witnessed
That those digits speak vast magics
To summon emotions passed and eyes unglazed
There were sevens of all forms, augments unite diminished
Ascensions and descensions, inhale and exhale
Between the staccatos and legatos is purity unveiled
And the kids kindle their hopes that he may never be finished
Is it nature or act, this love between a piano and his recluse?
His back is bent for fear and attack
He knows their there, yet remains sat
This is his grace, his place, and he knows he dare not move
Like an antenna aligned and in tune
The man and his piano have found their muse
