To Glenn Gould

The same way the pianist plays the keys
Is the same way I put words on the page:
Carefully. So as not to disturb them,
The words, ‘cause if not they might run away,
And leave me bleeding on the page, the same,
As a pianist bleeding on the keys.
For red on black and white looks quite ugly.

Black and white- ink on paper, like the keys!
Perhaps I am a pianist too. Here,
I sit, like him, my desk the instrument,
My pen the chords, and words, sweet melody.
I move my fingers to the beat- Beauty,
The grand symphony I wish to write! Quite
Elusive she is to paint, and with words!
I cannot charm her with tunes, pianist,
Like you do. I guess we’re not similar
Beyond the color scheme. You have glamor.
While I have quiet space, you have quite the stage;
While I have silence you have melody,
And that’s quite the difference, won’t you agree?

Fanciful mid-day dreams must end, sadly,
This is what I get for grabbing genius
Out of thin air and wearing it like a
Dress. And you play on pianist. I guess,
I must play on too, and write, so some day,
I shall be wearing the same suit you do.

Poetry by Sameen
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Written on 2017-12-11 at 00:58

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Editorial Team The PoetBay support member heart!
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Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Really well done, Sameen, an interesting notion treated superbly.

I love it. Writing is similar to playing the piano. Sadly, the young poets who emote their hearts out on the black and white pages do not know this.

josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
Unique perception brilliantly carried through., Sameen. Gould was a unique pianist.