The Piano

The Piano

I'm awed how you stand with such stately grace
as I brush against your rust-colored wood.
Such a strange bond that my heart holds a place,
yet you will always make my worst days good.
Keys like darkest midnight and brightest dawn,
each fine notes lives to make a song so sweet.
And my fingers live to fulfill that song;
the golden petals, bowing at my feet.
Woeful, soft, passionate and thunderous,
moods as equal as any living thing.
Your voice rises above all wondrous,
whispers gently slurred, weeping as you sing.
I long to be the one you serenade;
the one to whom your melody is made.

wow this is brilliant!!
"Keys like darkest midnight and brightest dawn" has to be my favorite line!
keep writing!! heres a gold star!
Roxy

Wow. I really loved the imagery in this.And I also loved how you created this sort of relationship with you and the piano. *snaps* jjavascript:emoticon(':wink:')

Hey Bittersweet!
This poem is really wonderful. I love the imagery and you really make the reader see a piano in a totally different way. I now don't see it as just an instrument, but I see it as something more beautiful. Great rhyming and flow. Great job!
Becca

I enjoyed this poem. It has very beautiful imagery and emotions. Who knew that a piano could mean so much more?

Good work, keep it up.

I really like this!!!!!!!
Okay, every word at the begingof the line should be CAPTILIZED!
It really is amazing, a paino can mean so much to some one.
Well, that's all I have.
tata for now!!!!

:O I love the imagery, the meaning. The words fit so well, and I just feel this. It's great ^^

I used to play the piano and i think this is amazing. It has great description and imagery. I can imagine trailing my hands along the keys and playing. You did a splendid job. Keep up the good work.

Wow! This is really good! You really should keep writing poetry! I play piano and that is like the PERFECT description!

The Piano



I'm awed by/at how you stand with such stately grace

as I brush against your rust-colored wood.

Such a strange bond that my heart holds a place, This line doesn't make sense to me...

yet you will always make my worst days good. Lame line in comparison with the good lines that surround it; it seems to be there just for the rhyme.

Keys like darkest midnight and brightest dawn, Nice!

each fine notes I think you mean "note" lives to make a song so sweet. <-- not wild about that last bit. Again, it doesn't feel natural.

And my fingers live to fulfill that song; I like this.

the golden petals, bowing at my feet. Now this I don't get. What are the "golden petals" that bow? Did you mean "pedals"? But they don't bow, do they?

Woeful, soft, passionate and thunderous,

moods as equal as any living thing. Nice.

Your voice rises above all wondrous, Hmm... not sure about how this sentence works, whether "wondrous" is used as a noun or an adj.

whispers gently slurred, weeping as you sing.

I long to be the one you serenade;

the one to whom your melody is made. Good ending. Maybe the rhyme could be reversed, though? I think "serenade" is a nicer word to end on than "made", but that could be just me. [/b]

Hope that is helpful! I just want to add that I think this poem is beautiful and has some gorgeous lines, and I really admire you for even attempting a sonnet, much less pulling it off! That's really impressive! Way to go!

Best of luck with this, keep writing!
-BFG