Darkness whispered outside, and frosty stars sparkled in the windows. Bits of fake snow and glitter were scattered here and there, with crumpled-up programs lying in the pews and the last strains of “Joy to the World” echoing in my head. The Christmas concert was over, and my family was off in the reception hall snarfing down sugar cookies with everyone else. Normally I’d be with her (I have an awful sweet tooth)...but this time, something had told me to stay behind.
I glanced around the sanctuary one last time. The dim lighting combined with Christmas-sparkle gave everything a sort of dreamy, enchanted feeling. There was no one else in this magic room – no one but me, and that gorgeous piano that stood on the stage, tilted oh-so-invitingly in my direction. Like a moth to a flame, I made my way down the aisle to have a better look at it.
An aching longing to play filled my heart. My old clavinova back home was nothing compared to this glistening instrument, the shiny-black piano I could only ever dream of having. Every curve was flawless, the keys spotless, every string tuned to perfection...oh, if only...but no. We couldn’t even afford lessons anymore. I’d have to wait many, many years to get something even close to it.
I reached out a tentative hand and gently caressed the polished wood, being careful not to smudge it. Was I allowed to play this piano? Would anyone see me? I could practically hear it begging me to sit on the cushioned bench and touch its smooth, black and white keys...
“Please, come and play me,” it whispered. “Come and play a song.”
Just one song...
The temptation was irresistible. Cautiously seating myself in front of it, I spread my fingers over the keyboard...and listened. A melody was just at my fingertips; I could hear the music, feel it stir inside me...
I pressed down the keys, playing hesitant scales, cords, octaves, arpeggios...and finally, something clicked. The music flowed through me into the instrument, and the piano happily responded. A song I’d never heard before began to take shape; a song of quiet glory, humble praise, unquenchable joy...
It chased away all confusion and darkness, replacing them with a feeling of comfort and peace. I was being transported to another place; a place of warmth and light and beauty, that no shadow could ever touch. I closed my eyes and drank in the music, thanking God for this moment as it lifted me higher and higher into His presence. My fingers danced over the keys and the song kept flowing out, filling the room with glory; melody and harmony entwined with the joy of knowing my Creator, the composer of my life’s song.
I could stay here forever...
“That’s beautiful, hun.”
Startled, my head whipped ‘round toward...my Mom. I fumbled the chord I was playing, my fingers froze-—how did she get here? What happened?...
“You need to hurry up. Everyone’s waiting for you and it’s way past your bedtime.”
She smiled at me, but her eyes had that firm, impatient look in them; the kind your parents give you when they’re not swaying the way you want.
Feeling slightly dazed, I turned back to the keyboard and played the last few notes escaping out of my mind. The music lingered in the air for a moment, and faded away. My magic world vanished into the winter night sky.
I reluctantly lifted my fingers from the keys and stood to my feet. Mom smiled again and took my hand, and we walked away – away from the church, away from the stage, away from the piano. We walked forward – towards the door, towards the outside world, towards Anything.
But I knew I’d return, because piano magic always finds a way to bring you back.
I glanced around the sanctuary one last time. The dim lighting combined with Christmas-sparkle gave everything a sort of dreamy, enchanted feeling. There was no one else in this magic room – no one but me, and that gorgeous piano that stood on the stage, tilted oh-so-invitingly in my direction. Like a moth to a flame, I made my way down the aisle to have a better look at it.
An aching longing to play filled my heart. My old clavinova back home was nothing compared to this glistening instrument, the shiny-black piano I could only ever dream of having. Every curve was flawless, the keys spotless, every string tuned to perfection...oh, if only...but no. We couldn’t even afford lessons anymore. I’d have to wait many, many years to get something even close to it.
I reached out a tentative hand and gently caressed the polished wood, being careful not to smudge it. Was I allowed to play this piano? Would anyone see me? I could practically hear it begging me to sit on the cushioned bench and touch its smooth, black and white keys...
“Please, come and play me,” it whispered. “Come and play a song.”
Just one song...
The temptation was irresistible. Cautiously seating myself in front of it, I spread my fingers over the keyboard...and listened. A melody was just at my fingertips; I could hear the music, feel it stir inside me...
I pressed down the keys, playing hesitant scales, cords, octaves, arpeggios...and finally, something clicked. The music flowed through me into the instrument, and the piano happily responded. A song I’d never heard before began to take shape; a song of quiet glory, humble praise, unquenchable joy...
It chased away all confusion and darkness, replacing them with a feeling of comfort and peace. I was being transported to another place; a place of warmth and light and beauty, that no shadow could ever touch. I closed my eyes and drank in the music, thanking God for this moment as it lifted me higher and higher into His presence. My fingers danced over the keys and the song kept flowing out, filling the room with glory; melody and harmony entwined with the joy of knowing my Creator, the composer of my life’s song.
I could stay here forever...
“That’s beautiful, hun.”
Startled, my head whipped ‘round toward...my Mom. I fumbled the chord I was playing, my fingers froze-—how did she get here? What happened?...
“You need to hurry up. Everyone’s waiting for you and it’s way past your bedtime.”
She smiled at me, but her eyes had that firm, impatient look in them; the kind your parents give you when they’re not swaying the way you want.
Feeling slightly dazed, I turned back to the keyboard and played the last few notes escaping out of my mind. The music lingered in the air for a moment, and faded away. My magic world vanished into the winter night sky.
I reluctantly lifted my fingers from the keys and stood to my feet. Mom smiled again and took my hand, and we walked away – away from the church, away from the stage, away from the piano. We walked forward – towards the door, towards the outside world, towards Anything.
But I knew I’d return, because piano magic always finds a way to bring you back.
His Melody
To quiet the tears
She sings him to sleep
When the morning has dawned
He can’t be roused from a rest so deep
She sings him to sleep
Night after night
And when he does not awaken
Her will to go on grows slight
She sits and waits while he’s away
She remembers his laugh and smile
Oh what a joy to see his joy
She lifts up a prayer “May I see him in a short while?”
She sits at the window and waits
The sun sets slowly behind the hill
The others say hello but she doesn’t hear
She is waiting to make the tears still
The time has come she cannot wait
She sets out to see her boy
To stop the tears
To bring him joy
But the tears she stills are not his
They fall from her eyes
She sings his lullaby again tonight
As she kisses the stone and her son good bye
To quiet the tears
She sings him to sleep
When the morning has dawned
He can’t be roused from a rest so deep
She sings him to sleep
Night after night
And when he does not awaken
Her will to go on grows slight
She sits and waits while he’s away
She remembers his laugh and smile
Oh what a joy to see his joy
She lifts up a prayer “May I see him in a short while?”
She sits at the window and waits
The sun sets slowly behind the hill
The others say hello but she doesn’t hear
She is waiting to make the tears still
The time has come she cannot wait
She sets out to see her boy
To stop the tears
To bring him joy
But the tears she stills are not his
They fall from her eyes
She sings his lullaby again tonight
As she kisses the stone and her son good bye
Dear record of my misfortune I was correct. Today I walked into class and saw a huge pile of letters on my desk. When I opened them I realized that it was hate mail. It was so stupid, people were getting angry at me for what I did to Jessica when it was her fault! They were saying things like : Die Emo bitch die, bitchy whore. That last comment doesn't even apply to me! I haven't even had my first kiss and they are saying this stuff to me! There was one letter that was bot mean even though I don't know who sent it. Inside it said roses are red violets are blue I don't now why they hurt you, if you want I'll tell them to can it, all because I love you Janet. I don't know who wrote you love poem rhyme thing but I love you too!
Is It True You Lie?
Is It True You Hate Me?
Is It True You Want Him?
Is It True You're My Best Friend?
Is It True You Enjoy Hurting Me?
Is It True You Like Me Crying?
Is It True You Talk Behind My Back?
Is It True You Tell People Our Bussiness?
Is It True I Hurt You?
Is It True You Back Stabbed Me?
Is It True You Let Me Believe The Lies?
Is It True You Let Me Call You My True Bestfriend When You Weren't?
Is It True.....?
This is A Poem Hope Yuh Enjoy It Btw Tell Me What Yuh Think And This Is Just About Me Gettin Hurt After Being Stupid Enough To Believe Her Lies She Wasnt A True Bestfriend
Is It True You Hate Me?
Is It True You Want Him?
Is It True You're My Best Friend?
Is It True You Enjoy Hurting Me?
Is It True You Like Me Crying?
Is It True You Talk Behind My Back?
Is It True You Tell People Our Bussiness?
Is It True I Hurt You?
Is It True You Back Stabbed Me?
Is It True You Let Me Believe The Lies?
Is It True You Let Me Call You My True Bestfriend When You Weren't?
Is It True.....?
This is A Poem Hope Yuh Enjoy It Btw Tell Me What Yuh Think And This Is Just About Me Gettin Hurt After Being Stupid Enough To Believe Her Lies She Wasnt A True Bestfriend
Her eyes were fire red,
as if they were
lit from anger.
I dont understand
why you are
mad at me.
Why you shoot
those harsh words
at me.
Aimed like bullets,
piercing my soul.
And It cant heal.
I never can dodge them.
The words hit me,
and I fall back.
My friends ask me:
"What's wrong?"
"Can I help?"
But they cant help.
Because I dont understand,
why you are mad.
Why do you have to do
what you do to me?
Why does it give you
joy to harm me?
Why?
Why are people bullies?
Why dont my friends take action?
Why cant you tell me WHY?
as if they were
lit from anger.
I dont understand
why you are
mad at me.
Why you shoot
those harsh words
at me.
Aimed like bullets,
piercing my soul.
And It cant heal.
I never can dodge them.
The words hit me,
and I fall back.
My friends ask me:
"What's wrong?"
"Can I help?"
But they cant help.
Because I dont understand,
why you are mad.
Why do you have to do
what you do to me?
Why does it give you
joy to harm me?
Why?
Why are people bullies?
Why dont my friends take action?
Why cant you tell me WHY?
Streetlamps, houses, gates, remotes, books, CDs and televisions. Brothers. Pairs. Each has a twin. In this chaotic place of materials the world has come to be, everything has a brother. But brothers are family. And family is connected somehow; if not by blood, then by what?
Energy.
Look hard. At everything that has a brother. A line of energy casts a connection between the two. The energy, with its harsh glares and cold looks creates the strongest and most complex bonds. Strong because of their brotherhood. Complex because of its invisibility. For there is power in invisibility. Cold, cruel power. The power to be a persecutor with no chance of being a victim. The power to twist and squeeze but not feel the wrenching pain of your twists.
Now, you ask, what is left? Cruel, invisible energy. For a cruel, invisible world.
This is my first time writing in stream of consciousness. I know it's short but don't judge me too harshly.
Energy.
Look hard. At everything that has a brother. A line of energy casts a connection between the two. The energy, with its harsh glares and cold looks creates the strongest and most complex bonds. Strong because of their brotherhood. Complex because of its invisibility. For there is power in invisibility. Cold, cruel power. The power to be a persecutor with no chance of being a victim. The power to twist and squeeze but not feel the wrenching pain of your twists.
Now, you ask, what is left? Cruel, invisible energy. For a cruel, invisible world.
This is my first time writing in stream of consciousness. I know it's short but don't judge me too harshly.
jamie is a beautiful girl. she has long ,blond hair,she has a pink shirt and dark blue jeans. she was the cousin of lindsey.
she was walking her dog,sweetie,when,jamie tripped on a rock. she thn fell into the arms of trent.
'hell," he said.
"thnks for saving me,abd hi."
"you okay?"
"yeah,but,i,need to rest,and my house is pretty far from here.
"you can com,e over. i live across."
"thanks,um,"
"trent."
"trent."
they went to trents house,and they went up to his rom
"and this is my room."
i had a gray wall,with gutiar poster,and a bed.closet,drawers and other things.
"wow,thats a cool room."
"thanks."
"listen,do you have a girlfreind?"
"no,why?'
"i dont,do you wanna go out?"
"okay."
"so.."
then trent kissed jamie,and thats hat went on for the rest of the day.
she was walking her dog,sweetie,when,jamie tripped on a rock. she thn fell into the arms of trent.
'hell," he said.
"thnks for saving me,abd hi."
"you okay?"
"yeah,but,i,need to rest,and my house is pretty far from here.
"you can com,e over. i live across."
"thanks,um,"
"trent."
"trent."
they went to trents house,and they went up to his rom
"and this is my room."
i had a gray wall,with gutiar poster,and a bed.closet,drawers and other things.
"wow,thats a cool room."
"thanks."
"listen,do you have a girlfreind?"
"no,why?'
"i dont,do you wanna go out?"
"okay."
"so.."
then trent kissed jamie,and thats hat went on for the rest of the day.