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| Photography by Romain Thiery |
within these abandoned walls
once lived happiness, music
filled the inner chambers
of a loving heart
broken keys, now out of tune
rotting floorboards moan in
grief for the songs of yesterday
sacred foundation crumbling
instrumental was the mortar
of pitch, tempo, texture and
structure which created overall
harmony in this space of time
fleeing from life when loss
was too great to bare, the cross
of misunderstanding weighing
down the fringes of reality
memories float through filtered
moonlight and a piano plays the
blues, a heart swells, drowning in
a dream well
outside the vineyard yields
sweet seeds of hope, cupped
hands sip intoxicating flavors
life emerges to the cicadas song
linking with The Sunday Muse
not sure this makes sense but,
my mood is blue...
thanks for visiting
Pathos .... and hope for renewal! Beautiful write.
ReplyDeleteLuv the music of the cicadas continuing the tune of existence
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday Truedessa
Much💜love
Inside is stagnant and decay from empty memories - but outside, life is still growing.
ReplyDeleteGood to read a poem from you! Been a while.
When memories float, pianos play the blues for sure.........your poem takes me back to what pianos meant to me in my childhood. I love the sweet seeds of hope and the cicadas singing in your closing stanza.
ReplyDelete...and a piano plays the blues.
ReplyDeleteInteresting turn of phrase -- personification. Nicely written!
In all the grief of loss that flows through these lines there is a beautiful heart seeing and sharing what is lost. The cicadas song at the end is a wonderful and hopeful closing. I love this Truedessa!
ReplyDeleteI dig the blues, so this just vibrates for me! You have created a mood so filled with melancholy that it seeps into my bones. I especially love that last stanza. I always enjoy what you write, Truedessa. Hope the blues turn you loose this week! (Going to go listen to some Elmore James now - you got me started.) ❤😊
ReplyDelete"outside the vineyard yields / sweet seeds of hope" - So badly needed!
ReplyDeleteLove the vivid descriptions in your poem ... well done.
ReplyDeleteA busy poem, must keep up. I have just finished with "cupped hands sip(ping) intoxicating flavor" in our kitchen. Mrs. Jim was making some kitsch from a new recipe and it smelled sooo good. I cupped a whiff and we both reminisced having our chemistry teachers never to put our noses into the dish, rather get a cupped handful of the aroma.
ReplyDelete..
This totally makes sense. fleeing from life when loss
ReplyDeletewas too great to bare, Piano played the blues..
Vivid, intimate piece. Beautiful writing
ReplyDelete"piano played the blues"
ReplyDeleteand yet this soulful piece has a glimmer of hope at the end.
A life without music is a soul's desert! Very well done!
ReplyDelete