 |
Poems On Site: 198,500+ Comments On Poems: 427,000+ Forum Posts: 105,000+ |
Custom Search
|
|
|
||||
| Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-May 17:58:28 AEST | ||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
|
||||
|
Array
(
[sid] => 182719
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Daninski: Legend on the Stage; Behind the Curtain: History//'//s Twisted Page
[time] => 2016-03-05 08:15:45
[hometext] => A three-part poem, much in a similar fashion to one of the very first I wrote back in high school called //'////'//Mystery//'////'//, which was actually my first poem too. :)
[bodytext] => Part 1 - (Introduction) Before Great Daninski Ever takes the stage The fans call out in most sensational rage: "What a musician! What a show! We know not whence, soon next he//'//ll go! What talent! What display! His performances numerous! His dreams are made! What charm! What wit! Clearly mastered, perfection; this is truly it!" Part 2 - (Lost at Home) The crowd cheers, after his famed sonata And so he leaves behind, to return to his own strata But the applause no longer gives him, the fufilment that it once did, And so he must travel home, to express the despair that it bid. " I//'//ve tried to purge my tears Summon some form of catharsis But I couldn//'//t muster a single one They pool distant from my prying eyes Oh the masses, how they squable, how they gawk... Am I more than spectacle? More than whimsied rock? I sacrificed everything, just for cheering fans, Only to find that daggers, hide in their clapping hands If I place my self, upon the Ol//'// ebony and ivory throne, I//'//m met with riches, and cherished by the common drone... But to be happy, the husband I was wont to be, Would leave me no less, than an echo, in the rippling wave of history... I lay, my head upon my bed of stone In a silent house, my self, alone I feel time passing by, without effect Drifting, I pray, in hopes to resurrect" Part III - (The Fall of Great Daninski) Alas, like many a great number of legends, Daninski too, must know, there is an end. And so when he approached it, his past he did not forget, But rather begged, for its return to now beget. "This piano has lost its tune The keys, their charm The white keys, the black There//'//s no telling them apart I could once play, pieces with marvelous grace But they abandoned me, promises, fading in sequential symphonies One single song haunts my virtuosic harmony A single arpeggio, unsure of its key This seat, once home, to a great and many concert, Now holds itself, as a ransom to the past It plays not for some sold-out show, But now, only for the dead and gone Phantom fingers and discordant seas Beckoning the return, of Daninski//'//s melodies" [comments] => 1 [counter] => 161 [topic] => 31 [informant] => xHeathenx [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => StoryPoetry )
|
Menu
· 
Poetry
Community
Members
Areas
Reference
Search
Top
Others
Poetry is much like a great photo, a single "moment in time" capturing many feelings and emotions. Yet, they are very alive; creating stirrings within the readers who form visual "pictures" of the expressed emotions within the Poem. ©
Opinions expressed in the poetry, comments, forums etc. on this site are not necessarily those of this site, its owners and/or operators; but of the individuals who post items to this site.
Frequently Asked Questions | | | Privacy Policy | | | Contact Webmaster
All submitted items are Copyright © to their submitter. All the rest Copyright © 2002-2050 by Your Poetry Dot Com
All logos and trademarks in this site are property of their respective owners.
Script Generation Time: 0.052 Seconds. - View our Site Map | .© your-poetry.com