Poems about music


№ 1208966


Music meanders mightily moving my soul seeking songs sung by strings and piano plays purposefully pounding perfectly pretty rhythms running round through thick thought of only one nicely named note.


Author: Jenny
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1208950

Soul Music

Music rips my Soul out
Tears Her from the rib cages of
Self doubt, fear, insecurity, and hurt
My nails dig and scratch at my skin
Trying to help Her escape
But She doesn't need rescuing
As she screams out with
Reckless Abandon
This world cannot save Me
I owe evil nothing
I am built for far Greater Things
Things beyond evil's capacity
Your lies do not falter Me
Your venom does not poison Me
Your expectations do not discourage Me
You are not My Maker
My Maker is not from this land
And you shall cower in Fear of Him
And you will not separate Him from Me
*For I can hear Him in the Music

music,  soul.

Author: Tori Hart
Date: 06/04/2020

№ 1208337

The Music

When I came in, he was playing piano again.
His head was bent over the keyboard, completely lost in the notes drifting through the air.
I eased into a chair beside him and rested my arm on the edge of the piano so I could watch his hands dance to the music he was creating.
He seemed surprised that I came to listen, even though I always did.
I loved listening to him play.
I loved watching his fingers fly over the keyboard.
I loved the way he looked at me
And the way he cursed when he messed up
And the way he kept asking me to join in and “just do something”.
My fingers itched to join him, but I knew I'd never be able to keep up.
I loved how the music just seemed to flow out of him.
I loved how connected I felt as we sat there together.
I loved the story he was telling
And the story we'd created together.
I could never keep up, and I knew I never would.
I could only watch, listen, hope, and dream.
It was something I'd never felt before, and something I knew might never feel again.
But I hope that someday I do
Because it was one of the most beautiful things I've ever felt.
It was the closest thing to magic.
I wasn't sure where to look.
His hands were mesmerizing,
But so was his face.
His eyes darting back and forth, his brain working a million miles a minute.
His forehead was creased with concentration.
And then he smiled slightly, pleased at his performance.
Our eyes met for just a moment.
He tried to gauge my reaction.
His finger slipped and hit a black key.
He swore and stopped.
I laughed and egged him on.
He laughed and shook his head.
The spell was broken,
But a different charm was already cast.


Author: Olivebird
Date: 05/04/2020

№ 1207553

The Music Of Misery

The Song Of Loneliness Whistles In The Breeze,
Soft And Gentle, Make It End Please,
The Broken Recored Of Misery Repeats Your Name,
Sadly This Record Is Stuck On The Needle,
A High Status Of Fame,
My DNA Entwined With That Of The Divine,
Yet I Am Cold And Alone,
Haunted By Ruthless Demons Nipping At My Nape,
I Sit By A Frigid Glassed Window,
Paned By My Tears Of Pain,
I'm Sick Of Awkward Conversation,
And Honestly I'm Terrified,
Because The Sound Of Your Rhythmic Breathing,
Becoming Closer,
Is Chilling To The Bone,
And I Can Already See Your Face In The Stands,
Because I'm So Broken,
And I Am Distraught,
Because I Can Already Hear The Sound Of,
The Music Of Misery

misery,  music.

Author: Sydney Victoria
Date: 04/04/2020

№ 1207480

Music in the face of death

I dont care about the sun or what it does, beacuse in the end death will love us all, staing to the world by the of wall.

death,  face,  music.

Author: diary
Date: 04/04/2020

№ 1205879

There is no faith in politics because music keeps its promises

Future a break those offers the lord couldnt refuse the devil got away with him in both testsaments and each book one religion for all kinds

I got will.
Figure it was the
Couch in the fast lane made a good rest
Ing spot defensive offensive psychological
Mechanic underhood under hood
The world is not
A ghetto
Recycle aint the answer for
Everything illegal
Dump dumb shit on the slow turn
Love(s) itself enough to fight back against a trained killer
Immune does it loud and clear.
Now there are stars where headaches used to make 5 points missed due to pain
Where else can error do the cryptwalk
Rest in peace to those who deserve it

faith,  keeps,  music,  politics,  promises.

Author: katrinawillrich
Date: 03/04/2020

№ 1204995


Count the tears on your pillow as they fall.
Bid them goodbye.
Say to your lover adieu, that's all we can ever be.
The tears are hers.
They're given by you.
Write your thoughts of her touch in a notebook, wrapped in royal blue satin.
She was your princess, the queen of your heart.
You let her go.
You had too.
Goodbye sweet lover, remember she still holds you close in her heart.
Awaiting renewal, still she waits.
Still she will.

man,  music.

Author: Olivia Kent
Date: 02/04/2020

№ 1202835

Trigger music

I can't listen to the fucking cure
Ever again with out feeling empty.
Way to go robert smith,
You big fucking depressing
Mother fucker.

Ever since you told me
Lovesong was yours and fuckfaces
Song I can't listen to some of my
Favorite cure songs without thinking of... them.
Them being you and him, not us.
Us being you and me.

I can't listen to cat stevens
Because harold and maude
Was our movie. Ours!
Now, the last love song makes me cry like a bitch.

I can't listen to fucking inxs anymore.
Never tear us apart drops me to my knees.
I can't listen to the kinks
Or edith piaf
Or talking heads
Or leonard fucking cohen
Or great lake swimmers
Or fever ray
Or peter sarstedt
Or portishead
Or killswitch engage
Or paul mccartney singing maybe I'm amazed
Or pearl jam
Or ween,
Especially ween, one of my favorites, bitch.

Gotye is a prophet.

If I even think of antony and the johnsons,
My chest seems to cave in on itself
And I am filled with such a deep despair,
A longing for something,
To take away
The pain of knowing
I lost you.

I can't listen to so much good music out there because that was our thing.
So many times we would lie in bed after loving each other
And listen to mixes we had made for one another.
Those were my favorite times.
Sipping whiskey with lime juice,
Reveling in your smells,
Your juices covering me.
Your dog farting so bad
All we could do was laugh
Or we would puke.

The first few notes of alexi murdochs
Love you more, bring forth tears like niagra.
I cannot listen to that song without crying immediately.

I don't understand how feelings like that go away so suddenly.

It's bullshit.

This isn't a poem.

Poems are supposed to be beautiful
And about love
Or beautiful and about loss of love
Or just plain fucking beautiful
About something like a goddamned tree
Or a nice view
Or flowers.

I have to write about how I hate the empty fucking space in my chest whenever I think of your name.
I have to write about the thousandth time I cried over you,
Like now.
I have to write about how
The bright blue
Of our love was replaced by
The dirty brown of
Our lies and deceit.

Nobody gives a shit about that stuff.
I can't write a fucking poem to save my life.
I want to put down on paper
The weariness and exhaustion.
I want to express how I feel
So that maybe I can save
Someone else
The pain of suffering alone.
I want to write you the most beautiful poem on the earth,
The one that makes you
Understand just how much I care
For you
And how much and I love you
And I want you to read it
And forget about your fears
And past hurts
And realize I am the only man for you
And nobody else will ever come between us ever again.

But I can't.

I am not smart enough.
I am not creative enough.
I am not... enough, for you.

I don't want to even try anymore.
I want to forget you like I said I never would.
I want to love another like I said I never would.
I want to be a liar, like I said I never would.
I want to stop loving you, like I said I never would.

I want to listen to love songs and not miss you.

music,  trigger.

Author: JM
Date: 31/03/2020