Poet on the Piano

Once, I dreamed the glossy black
grand would be gracefully center stage,
a seat lonely without a body,
keys pending passion...

awaiting my lips to move with a
"yes, it's finally time."

But I realized I am not here to
perform. I do not wish to pull myself
through auditions, wager on fame
then have my fingers play a solo
act.

I want to compose,
my words can be lyrics, my
perturbed sleep running into
tunes the Lord has purpose for,
and even though I don't always
have a picnic basket full of
new ideas,
I will write and learn with
the truth of my emotions.

It's time I start living honestly...
instead of practicing the same
classic rhapsodies that become
repetitive during the long hours
before daylight,
nearly dead.

Poetry will be my aid; I will not
depend on it solely to respire,
or knit words together just to
exhibit the loveliest quilt of
thoughts...

I will try, with every piece of me,
to know what I came to do.
Each new sheet I will keep
alongside my skin, ink at
the tip of my tongue and inside
loneliness

my heart stirs from.

-
Written 7/27/13 @ 3:15 PM

Thanks to Saffie for her challenging me to write about my screen name! Never would have thought to make a poem of it :]