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 ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Daninski: Legend on the Stage; Behind the Curtain: History's Twisted Page


Daninski: Legend on the Stage; Behind the Curtain: History's Twisted Page
Date: Saturday, 5th March 2016 @ 08:15:45 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: xHeathenx
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"

This poem is Copyright © xHeathenx


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