i left them
to die
in the room
where they were
conceived, incubated, born
their melodious voices
reverberating
loud and crisp
wavy infants
with short life spans
caught in frequencies
between the strings
conception, birth
life and death
in the time it takes
notes to be created
and sound
to be swallowed
© Poetry from the Inkwell 2019
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This gave me a new perspective, as I listen to music this morning. The good thing is they are constantly being reborn!
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Am so happy to hear this. Yes, new notes are being born all the time 🙂
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This reminds me of thoughts. They could be fleeting. We have a very narrow window of opportunity to capture them. A piece that gets me thinking, as usual.
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Yes, that is true. Am happy to have got you thinking.
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So well thought. This gave me a whole new perspective.
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Thank you, so much. I am glad it did.
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Interesting perspective. That notes are gone but continue to resonate…..
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Yes, they oft times resonate long after they disappear. Thank you kindly.
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That is so beautiful 💛
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Aw, thank you, so much ❤
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God! You are so talented. This made me so emotional for some reason🙃
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Aw, you are so very kind. I guess the death of most things can have this effect on us. Am so happy it moved you 🙂
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Many years ago,i wrote poetry on any scrap of paper I could find. Puting them in a closet hidden away. It takes time to accept being a poet and that it’s not going away. This poem brought back old memories..
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Thank you, so much, for sharing that story. I’ve been writing poetry since my teen years but never really got serious with it until a few years ago. I guess it does take some time to come to accept it.
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They didn’t die. They went into the walls. We just don’t have the science to pull them back out yet. True.
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I like your perspective. Maybe one day we’ll have the technology to pull them from the walls.
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It’s a premise of science fiction
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Lets me think of dreams
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That’s wonderful. Thank you.
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It’s my pleasure
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Intriguing! Words, notes, thoughts oft times die to make way for the better ones. Survival of the fittest! As always, fantastic write.
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An interesting reflection. Thank you, so much, Punam.
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Always a pleasure. 🙂
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🙂
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All the unborn and orphan notes which can never find their way home.Well penned.
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Ah, you got it. Thank you, kindly.
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