Bronze flashing, ringing, singing
Enveloping the spirits of those around
Loud bashing to soft banter
Layering music, hope, and joy
Shattering the silence
Image: hopepublishing.com/hierarchy/image/HP/92095/Handbell-Music.jpg
Bronze flashing, ringing, singing
Enveloping the spirits of those around
Loud bashing to soft banter
Layering music, hope, and joy
Shattering the silence
Image: hopepublishing.com/hierarchy/image/HP/92095/Handbell-Music.jpg
Everyone was playing so well, but now it was time to crescendo
Xylophone mallets at the ready, Bob waited for his cue for his first ever solo
Practically tasting the increase in intensity, Bob’s hands started to sweat
Only Bob didn’t dare dry them, he just concentrated on not letting them slip
Suddenly it was time for Bob to play. He swung the mallets downward
Everything slowed down as Bob watched it all go so wrong
Down went the poleaxed conductor, and so ended Bob’s career
Image: media.defense.gov/2011/May/23/2000253049/-1/-1/0/110519-F-JA180-102.JPG
Those people that thought Elvis was still alive made Travis laugh. It had been almost 41 years since that fateful day and yet Travis could remember every intimate, crazy detail like it had been yesterday. He was supposed to play Utica, New York on that tour. Why on earth had they booked him in Utica? Well Travis was happy it never happened.
Travis chuckled at that thought as he looked out the nursing home window. He spent a lot of time thinking about the past and what might have been. That was how Travis spent most of his time. Getting older may suck, but the alternative was worse. Besides, being 88 wasn’t that bad, really. He still could enjoy his music and his peanut butter and banana sandwiches. He then remembered the sequined jump suits. Man he hated those. Who thought they were a good idea? They made him itch.
Image: s3.amazonaws.com/zweb-s3.uploads/visiontv/2017/07/19122555/Elvis_Hawaii_600_1.jpg
Moving with the beat and her eyes, John was in the zone
Over and over he swayed and spun
Never getting dizzy or tired, the music and her smile edging him on
Even when the song ended he continued because it made her happy
Yes he looked like a fool, but he was rich because of his daughter’s laughter
Tossing his fedora onto the coatrack, Martin sat at the piano
In no time the keys began to sing what was in his heart
Melodies rose and fell on the emotional tide
Enveloping Martin in memories of another time and place
Listening to those faint echoes of her laugh in the harmonies
Envisioning her smile as she joined him on the violin
Softly he finished his musical poem and smiled at her picture on the piano
She would always be a part of his soul
Magic brought to life
Undoing the chains of the mundane
Sending my soul soaring
Into the starry sky above
Courting the infinite
Johan stared at the grand piano in front of him. Eighty-eight keys stared back at him, wanting him to touch them. White and black, each key was holding a tiny piece of music inside. It was up to him to set that music free, to let the world experience it, but still Johan didn’t reach out.
Johan knew to do so would bind his soul, to the music yearning to be free.
Johan knew to do so would shatter his soul, to give the music its shape.
Johan knew to do so would expose his soul, clothed only in the notes he played, to the voyeurs in the audience.
Johan almost left the stage, but then, ever so softly, he did reach out and caress the keys. That act of intimacy coaxed his desire, which inflamed his passion, exploding into a rapture of creation. Nothing was ever the same again.
Suzdal is the blog run by Alex Markovich (author, artist) about one of the most famous towns of the Golden Ring of Russia.
A Lifestyle Blog By Rachna
Life is a broadway musical and everyday is a song. These are mine manifested as poetry.
Lets Talk About Pets.
A compilation of essay tips, general writing advice, poems, and thoughts.
Sharing thoughts. Changing perspectives.
Raku pottery, vases, and gifts
Swimming in the Ridiculous Like a Tuna with a Mistress
Every now and then my head is racing with thoughts so I put pen to paper
a.mermaid'spen_
Poetry by Sylvie Ashford
Poetry that purrs. It's reowr because the cat said so.
Grow the Garden You've Always Wanted
Everything food
Book Reviewer and Blogger
23 years old girl travelling solo on a motorcycle.
- Your Pants, they bother me. Take them off. 18+ Content
Deep Down Inside...
Weapons and Training Equipment for All Martial Arts Enthusiasts