Violin
I never knew such simple things could bring me so much pleasure.
The minute I feel the smooth, hard wood touch my cheek I feel powerful.
The bow gives me control.
As soon as I pull it across the cold, metal strings there’s a vibration of lightning.
The electricity surges through me causing the intensity of the music to course through my veins until I'm swaying back and forth.
I imagine the sound waves shooting out of the scroll like laser beams from a ray gun.
My fingers dance over the pulsating strings like ballerinas on a stage, gracefully but ever so quick in their movements.
I am careful.
If I don't remember the techniques, it could be the difference between a 1 and a 3.
I love this feeling.
The echoing stage among the quiet auditorium.
The warm lights glowing against my pale skin.
When I'm in this zone, I never want to come out.
This is my happy place.
This is part of me.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.