The white and the black.
Oh, how we need both for the tune to be just right.
Can we choose one?
Of course you can.
Choose one,
but the other will follow too,
because that is how it is!
Her fingers glided delicately over the keys.
She was playing a song…
But he couldn’t tell what.
As he lay there
Bleeding
He realised
It was their song.
Their waltz.
Fingers deft
flow over keys –
black and white
monochrome
classic.
That of timelessness
found in a remote college
the rustling of leaves as applause
and an audience of stars
to perform for.
play like Elton john
virtuoso so sublime
singing out for all to embrace
lighted sounds cast into the air
generations beyond our time
sit and listen to the joyous sound
defining what our lives have been
What if the mind is wind? Often Mind is thought to be the notes of music, where awareness is the silence between the notes. But what if Mind is endless, and how it moves is decided by the Light that creates the wind? #piano @oneworddotcom @oznolem
I started learning how to play piano a few years ago. I actually taught myself how to play. So you could say I’m self-taught. I’m not amazing, but I know how to read music, so I guess that helps. I know a few songs by heart, and I play them well; nothing amazing. The piano was a phase of me. It was something that made me want to grow, instead of making me want to stop. It’s still part of me.
I wanted to play the piano since i was a boy , but it seems like the world is trying to put every obstacle in front of my so that my dream would not come true , but i still believe in myself that one day i will play the piano.
She hated the way she had walked away from a life that was completely right for her. Her beautiful world of classical piano twinkled in the distance and she could never return. She hated how she had given it up for a world of rigid science that left her trapped in cold reality day after day with no escape to the ivory keys that brought light to her life.
Tony brushed his fingers lightly against the keys of the piano. He hadn’t played the thing in years. He pressed down on the keys and played out a tune his mother had shown him and sighed happily. He hoped she was happier in heaven then she was on earth. He missed her.
It’s not the sound of the piano that gets me. It’s the tone. It’s that it exists at all. We had a piano when we were together. She played late at night sometimes. Never had a lesson, but the blues had nothing on Cheryl’s midnight keyboarding.
I like the sound a piano make makes after I have really worked on learning a piece. I feel accomplished. I feel proud. I want to sing from the top of my voice. A piano is accomplishment. A piano is challenge. A piano brings harmony between challenge and accomplishment. Decrescendo diminutivo coda rest.
I heard the ivory keys click under her fingernails. She wasn’t playing the piano – she was groping it. Her spindly fingers felt it up, touching it without consent. It was dirty, it was unclean. To touch an instrument in such a way is sacrilege.
A piano. My mother plays the piano. I remember when I was little and she used to try to teach me how to play it and we would get into these stupid little disputes. I also remember just sitting there listening to her with my dad. Sometimes my dad cried because the beauty of the music brought so much emotion. Pianos… pianos pianos.. I don’t know what else to say.
When I was younger, my parents used to talk about getting us to take piano lessons. It would improve our minds and make us into gentle, creative souls. I ended up playing soccer instead. A few years of clarinet in band had me convinced that I was less musical and expressive in…other ways.
Piano bring sound like no other into the world. The black and white keys show range and emotion by the hands of the musican. Large yet quiet in a sense of things. I salute you piano.
The lush sounds vibrate through the pane glass in winter and float out open windows in warm weather. Thick, rich sounds full with passion from an otherwise unremarkable and plain house with an even less obviously passion filled occupant.
I love to play the piano. I have written a lot of worship songs that I play at home and at church. It is the best ever. Here is a list of songs I have written:
Make A Change
Everything
Praise to You
Power
Lead
God
Father and Daughter
Now She Can Dance
Handmaid of the Lord
I have also written some love songs too.
The piano was forever shattered. No one would ever hear its off-tune keys play beautiful music. But there was no one around to hear anyway. The people and listeners were all gone. The music flowed alone in time.
how could they play if they do not understand. they are children, they do not understand reverberations or the vibrations of the waves. They know now where the buttons lead, what chords they pull. They just know the music. And for God’s sake, how they play. Oh they play.
Pianos are a great instrument to have in your home. They bring joy to those who listen. For instance, when I am cleaning I get a pep in my step when I am listening to the piano. My mother plays the piano by ear and we love listening to this.
The keys were like a canvas, just waiting for a masterpiece to be created with just a single touch. Note after not left her fingertips and created the most beautiful melody that not even the loveliest song bird could imitate.
Danse Macabre. It was the piece he played, in remembrance of his lost love. He misses her voice, much like the violin playing by him. Sweet yet afraid. His fingers pounded on the keys, echoing her very name, every inch of her skin, every taste of her lips–all of her. He could still smell her under the heavy and silent air that whisked away the notes of the grand piano being conquered mercilessly. He remembered every nook and cranny of her body. The way she fussed with her fingers when nervous. The way she giggled on small things. And the way she screamed when he held his father’s axe. Yes. It was Danse Macabre. A masterpiece for a masterpiece that was her….
Sit at the piano and don’t lie to me, now. I know where you are in the world, though you said you would not be there, and I know nothing of you. I like that you didn’t find a second friendship with him. Play.
When I was little I took piano lessons from our next door neighbor, Holly. Although I learned quickly and had great hands, ridiculously long fingers, I was far from her most dedicated student. As with many things, once I reached a certain level of proficiency my interest began to dwindle.
Player piano
locked behind the patio,
last summer on a weekend.
Me and my cousin were
wandering in the grass,
looking for toads and rocks
to break in locks
to the doors on the garage,
just to hear some ragtime
or maybe chopsticks.
Laura looked at the beautiful, grand piano–admiring its magnificence. It was the first time she had ever saw one and she was grateful to grace it with her presence. Surrendering to temptation, she lifted its frame and played two of its key. It brought out a pleasing sound like a bird’s chirps at dawn. She didn’t know how to play it but oh, how she wished she did. She wanted to be like her mother, a well-known pianist in the industry of music. However, she deemed she wouldn’t be able to take the pressure and fame.
Paino is a musical instrument which has got a great use and it is most of the times played by an individual. Playing a piano in the right way is a tought task.
i like to play piano and i prefer this to other instruments…i would to be an pianist and play it in front of people very well.if i had money i really like to buy a piano.
The piano is a grand instrument that is used to express the genius of feeling by one who is talented enough to share those feelings through instrument. I am not that talented or actually I have never tried…Although I can play a mean Chopsticks!!!
The soft melody drifts to my ears, making me anxious as I wait for Father to finish his playing. Nonetheless, he does not finish until hours later. By that time, though, I was already asleep, dreaming happy dreams in which Father helped me with my own melodies and harmonies. In which Father paid helped me with anything at all.
The white and the black.
Oh, how we need both for the tune to be just right.
Can we choose one?
Of course you can.
Choose one,
but the other will follow too,
because that is how it is!
lulling us outward
as the fingertips express what the utterances of
the mere mouth cannot.
tongue lining against the top lip
with concentration
this melody is for you and
my goodness,
if it is even half as gorgeous
as the way you look
in this half light sunrise
then it will be a
piano perfection.
All white keys, all black keys, all keys to my heart.
My fortress of solitude.
Her fingers glided delicately over the keys.
She was playing a song…
But he couldn’t tell what.
As he lay there
Bleeding
He realised
It was their song.
Their waltz.
Fingers deft
flow over keys –
black and white
monochrome
classic.
That of timelessness
found in a remote college
the rustling of leaves as applause
and an audience of stars
to perform for.
play like Elton john
virtuoso so sublime
singing out for all to embrace
lighted sounds cast into the air
generations beyond our time
sit and listen to the joyous sound
defining what our lives have been
What if the mind is wind? Often Mind is thought to be the notes of music, where awareness is the silence between the notes. But what if Mind is endless, and how it moves is decided by the Light that creates the wind? #piano @oneworddotcom @oznolem
I started learning how to play piano a few years ago. I actually taught myself how to play. So you could say I’m self-taught. I’m not amazing, but I know how to read music, so I guess that helps. I know a few songs by heart, and I play them well; nothing amazing. The piano was a phase of me. It was something that made me want to grow, instead of making me want to stop. It’s still part of me.
I wanted to play the piano since i was a boy , but it seems like the world is trying to put every obstacle in front of my so that my dream would not come true , but i still believe in myself that one day i will play the piano.
She hated the way she had walked away from a life that was completely right for her. Her beautiful world of classical piano twinkled in the distance and she could never return. She hated how she had given it up for a world of rigid science that left her trapped in cold reality day after day with no escape to the ivory keys that brought light to her life.
Tony brushed his fingers lightly against the keys of the piano. He hadn’t played the thing in years. He pressed down on the keys and played out a tune his mother had shown him and sighed happily. He hoped she was happier in heaven then she was on earth. He missed her.
It’s not the sound of the piano that gets me. It’s the tone. It’s that it exists at all. We had a piano when we were together. She played late at night sometimes. Never had a lesson, but the blues had nothing on Cheryl’s midnight keyboarding.
Music makes me happy. Most of the time. I am learning happy songs. Songs that fit the rhythm of my life
I like the sound a piano make makes after I have really worked on learning a piece. I feel accomplished. I feel proud. I want to sing from the top of my voice. A piano is accomplishment. A piano is challenge. A piano brings harmony between challenge and accomplishment. Decrescendo diminutivo coda rest.
I heard the ivory keys click under her fingernails. She wasn’t playing the piano – she was groping it. Her spindly fingers felt it up, touching it without consent. It was dirty, it was unclean. To touch an instrument in such a way is sacrilege.
A piano. My mother plays the piano. I remember when I was little and she used to try to teach me how to play it and we would get into these stupid little disputes. I also remember just sitting there listening to her with my dad. Sometimes my dad cried because the beauty of the music brought so much emotion. Pianos… pianos pianos.. I don’t know what else to say.
When I was younger, my parents used to talk about getting us to take piano lessons. It would improve our minds and make us into gentle, creative souls. I ended up playing soccer instead. A few years of clarinet in band had me convinced that I was less musical and expressive in…other ways.
I never learned to play the piano. I used to dream of being the type of person who could sit primly down and create a masterpiece.
Piano bring sound like no other into the world. The black and white keys show range and emotion by the hands of the musican. Large yet quiet in a sense of things. I salute you piano.
The lush sounds vibrate through the pane glass in winter and float out open windows in warm weather. Thick, rich sounds full with passion from an otherwise unremarkable and plain house with an even less obviously passion filled occupant.
archipelagos of memory,
your melodic fingers
pounding harmonics
into my skull,
my breath sixteenth notes –
thirty-seconds –
me falling up the sky
in the way I breathe
in the sun, embers resting
in the jar of my stomach.
I love to play the piano. I have written a lot of worship songs that I play at home and at church. It is the best ever. Here is a list of songs I have written:
Make A Change
Everything
Praise to You
Power
Lead
God
Father and Daughter
Now She Can Dance
Handmaid of the Lord
I have also written some love songs too.
The piano was forever shattered. No one would ever hear its off-tune keys play beautiful music. But there was no one around to hear anyway. The people and listeners were all gone. The music flowed alone in time.
how could they play if they do not understand. they are children, they do not understand reverberations or the vibrations of the waves. They know now where the buttons lead, what chords they pull. They just know the music. And for God’s sake, how they play. Oh they play.
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Pianos are a great instrument to have in your home. They bring joy to those who listen. For instance, when I am cleaning I get a pep in my step when I am listening to the piano. My mother plays the piano by ear and we love listening to this.
Black and white keys spaced purposefully apart.
Teach me where to place my fingers.
When was the last time you sat next to someone, purposefully apart?
The keys were like a canvas, just waiting for a masterpiece to be created with just a single touch. Note after not left her fingertips and created the most beautiful melody that not even the loveliest song bird could imitate.
Danse Macabre. It was the piece he played, in remembrance of his lost love. He misses her voice, much like the violin playing by him. Sweet yet afraid. His fingers pounded on the keys, echoing her very name, every inch of her skin, every taste of her lips–all of her. He could still smell her under the heavy and silent air that whisked away the notes of the grand piano being conquered mercilessly. He remembered every nook and cranny of her body. The way she fussed with her fingers when nervous. The way she giggled on small things. And the way she screamed when he held his father’s axe. Yes. It was Danse Macabre. A masterpiece for a masterpiece that was her….
Sit at the piano and don’t lie to me, now. I know where you are in the world, though you said you would not be there, and I know nothing of you. I like that you didn’t find a second friendship with him. Play.
When I was little I took piano lessons from our next door neighbor, Holly. Although I learned quickly and had great hands, ridiculously long fingers, I was far from her most dedicated student. As with many things, once I reached a certain level of proficiency my interest began to dwindle.
Player piano
locked behind the patio,
last summer on a weekend.
Me and my cousin were
wandering in the grass,
looking for toads and rocks
to break in locks
to the doors on the garage,
just to hear some ragtime
or maybe chopsticks.
Laura looked at the beautiful, grand piano–admiring its magnificence. It was the first time she had ever saw one and she was grateful to grace it with her presence. Surrendering to temptation, she lifted its frame and played two of its key. It brought out a pleasing sound like a bird’s chirps at dawn. She didn’t know how to play it but oh, how she wished she did. She wanted to be like her mother, a well-known pianist in the industry of music. However, she deemed she wouldn’t be able to take the pressure and fame.
She liked playing the piano. Every note and every song. She loved the sound. She liked the way her fingers pressed the keys. She just loved it.
Paino is a musical instrument which has got a great use and it is most of the times played by an individual. Playing a piano in the right way is a tought task.
A piano is an instrument that provides an outlet for creative solace and free flowing ideas.
i like to play piano and i prefer this to other instruments…i would to be an pianist and play it in front of people very well.if i had money i really like to buy a piano.
An instrument that provides an amazing outlet and peace to many. A piano is a vital piece to many musical pieces.
The piano is a grand instrument that is used to express the genius of feeling by one who is talented enough to share those feelings through instrument. I am not that talented or actually I have never tried…Although I can play a mean Chopsticks!!!
The soft melody drifts to my ears, making me anxious as I wait for Father to finish his playing. Nonetheless, he does not finish until hours later. By that time, though, I was already asleep, dreaming happy dreams in which Father helped me with my own melodies and harmonies. In which Father paid helped me with anything at all.