Piano Man

by Elizabeth

Published June 9, 2005

In Poetry

You promised me a song
The saddest song you could play
Piano man
Help me forget
With your mournful keys
Play me the Moonlight Sonata, please
Play it with your hands and play it with your soul
Please don’t stop Piano man
It’ll wake up joy I kept inside of me
The love I hold for you
Play so softly that I can hear my heart
And feel my breath slow down
Until I begin to sleep quietly
Never to wake again
Continue to play Piano man
Continue to play my moving melody
Play until you know how much you miss me

Comments & reviews · 15
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Inquisitor
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Inquisitor commented Comment · Jun 30, 2005

We are sorry. Inquisitor, Zentillius, and Meshalidar have been suspended due to mendacious and pathetic behavior. Please excuse him.

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PsyLynx
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PsyLynx commented Comment · Jun 30, 2005

Lovely. I think it should go deeper, somehow...because...my vision of it was definitely influenced and thus slightly changed by the similarities to Mr. Tambourine Man.

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Elizabeth
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Elizabeth commented Comment · Jun 24, 2005

No not at all.. i didn't even know there was a dude named Piano man... then again i haven't been to that site since the vacation....

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Chevy
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Chevy commented Comment · Jun 23, 2005

That was very nice. It sounds like something you would say about someone who died...and that makes it very powerful in my opinion.

Is this poem about TYWC Piano Man?

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Elizabeth
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Elizabeth commented Comment · Jun 21, 2005

HI HO ALRIGHT I'M GOOD! hmm. I don't know why buyt somehow I am wanting to see hte Phantom of the Opera... (O_O)

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Areida
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Areida wrote a review Review · Jun 17, 2005

Mmm... I loved it.

The idea itself seems rather contrived, but you carried it out beautifully. The whole thing gives me a feeling of longing, begging. It leaves me wanting more.

Play so softly that I can hear my heart
And feel my breath slow down
Until I begin to sleep quietly


I think this was my favourite part. The image of notes drifting across a room to a sleeping girl, her breathing soft and even, and sinking into her very skin... wow. That's so beautiful.

Great job, Liz.

xAngelWithAHeartOfGoldx commented Comment · Jun 16, 2005

I like it.
:)

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Elizabeth
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Elizabeth commented Comment · Jun 11, 2005

Apparently i have an entrancing repitition. I guess I'll try and put more emotion into it, but can you tell me how please?

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Rei
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Rei commented Comment · Jun 10, 2005

I also liked the repeatition. It didn't feel obvious, and I hardly noticed it was there. But I do also agree that it didn't seem like you had a strong emotional connection to what you were writing about.

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Writersdomain
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Writersdomain commented Comment · Jun 10, 2005

I really liked this actually. At first, it was kind of... I dunno... awkward, I would say, just a different style. But your last few lines were awesome! Great Job! Keep writing...

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sabradan
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sabradan commented Comment · Jun 9, 2005

I dunno. I liked it, especially the repetition. I don't really know why I liked the repetition either, because I normally don't but, ah, oh well. It reminded me of something personal...

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Misty
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Misty commented Comment · Jun 9, 2005

No that's not what I meant. It's a GOOD poem, it's just not my style. *Revivies poem* There. I brought it back.

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Elizabeth
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Elizabeth commented Comment · Jun 9, 2005

Indeed you did kill it.
RIP Whatever this was.

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Misty
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Misty wrote a review Review · Jun 9, 2005

Hmm...I didn't really like this, so BANG BANG BANG. Is that what you meant by "please kill it" (no you stupid idiot that's NOT what she meant. it was a figure of speech!)(WEll, soooo---rry!) okay...kill...lemme think. I guess it jus wasn't my type of poem. I really like blood and guts in poems (and writing) And i didn't understand this. It didn't feel like it had strong emotion, it was too...elusive, if you know what I mean. Like you didn't really know what you were talking about you were writing just to write, if you understand what I mean. Sorry if that is too harsh. :D I still love your writing in general! Just not this specific piece



You sound like you're becoming emotionally involved with the custard.
— Nikki Morgan