Piano. Favorite instrument.
I used to dream having a love story with a blind pianist.
He would be tall and dark-haired with blue eyes of course.
Am I totally romantic or what?
I see the piano. Standing in the corner of a room in a house filled with decadence. The children asleep upstairs, so unaware of the life they are living. A life full of beauty and love and comfortable normality. Of dance lessons and football and homework and school. I leave the piano. Alone. And return to my life.
Play me a song where the angles meet
Black and white together and mysteries repeat
Tell me you love me in 88 ways
And I’ll tell you I love you for the rest of my days
I was sitting by the piano when Thomas entered the room.
He looked as if he had come from the war. Completely messed up, ragged, his hair dirty, full of dust. Not the usual Tom.
It was unusual to hear her play – the soft notes as dainty as her fragile mind, her gentle fingers skimming the keys. Yet it was beautiful, and I admired her: the small smile on her face and her focused eyes made my chest swell, leaning against the doorframe as she played peacefully.
Er spielte ein langsames, ruhiges Stück. Fasziniert beobachtete Ruby, wie Niks Finger langsam über die Tasten strichen, sie liebkosten.
Langsam bewegte er sich im Takt. Sie lächelte unwillkürlich..
Nik wirkte entspannt und sie war glücklich.
I am looking for an old timey piano like the one I grew up with. I miss it and wish we hadn’t given it to my cousin I got my daughter a grand piano electric keyboard but it isnt the same! Something about those old pianos and they way they sound and look that is more special.
I reached out to touch one of the keys. A pleasant chime came from the piano. I then pressed different keys to make a nice little tune. I smiled at the sound. The way a piano sounds has always been one of my favorite little things in life.
She glided through the empty house, just like her fingers glided over the keys of the piano. It was a Sunday afternoon, her favorite time of the week to be alive. She was alone but she liked to think that the emptiness was better company than anyone else. The silence was comforting.
Her fingers brushing over the keys,
her soul slipping into a melody.
The music soothing her ears,
an innate feeling of peace;
resurrected by the frequency
of an unfamiliar tune.
Happily she hummed along,
to a song she’d never hear again.
the sonorous sound
i thought about moving my fingers across the keys
i wondered if i’d remember.
there was nobody quite so disappointed in me as my piano teacher.
The piano. I enjoy playing it since I was a kid. It expresses the soul. My happiness, sadness and all that comes in between. I often felt that it was the voice of someone else inside me, never me.
Music, what a beautiful language.
my fingers gently touch the keys
the tune is soft, barely louder than a whisper
i want it to be louder
but i don’t know what will happen if i apply any more pressure
i’m scared
I would like to play the piano. To be honest, it is the most beautiful instrument i can think about. Not just because of how it sounds, but mostly because of all
Laura frowned at the older man with grubby fingers. She moved to stand in front of the family heirloom, spreading an arm across the keys as though protecting it. “Not for sale. My grandmother gave me this.”
The old man rolled his eyes, then walked away. “I’ll be back, young lady!”
The great barrier reef stretched across the piano’s new sunken home,
the pit-less bottom of sand and fish excrement,
the titanic sailed off for a long-standing good bye
to all its sailors’ favorite amusement from work
a length live animal beneath the sea, just stood
plainly glaring at the piano
note-less, the piano’s keys began pushing down
bubbles floated from each key,
notes,
in the form of bubbles,
ruined all the sea’s troubles!
I’ve always wanted to play the piano. Shame I am content to listen to others playing it. I have no real intention of making new music, but would play those songs I have fallen in love with.
the tortuous piano of life, beats one
beats two
beats strife when its time to face the reality enclosed in the envelope
but there are ions and wavelengths coming out of tunes
that repudiate the sender of that letter
its only black print
on plain paper
propensity for greatness proliferates when stubborn as metal clothes hanger-lines
reach for scrapers
don’t settle for scratch papers
one key
three key
four key five
I’m ready to jive whenever zealot fragrances pushing off my atmosphere behooves me
stay positive in your eyes
or thus loose me
The piano sat ghostly silent,
at the bottom of the deep blue sea.
Its keys were green after under the waves
Its wooden body rotting away little by little.
The sunken ship it had been ejected from sat nearby.
Barry played piano, and Trisha trilled on the flute. Their parents danced together as their duet progressed, from bouncy to somber, to nebulous and then back to bouncy. I sat in the corner of the living room, watching the choreography and listening to the melodies and harmonies, sipping a glass of whiskey that was older than I was. When the piece was done, I politely applauded, and all four members of the Wright family bowed.
He played the notes of his melody– a melody he created from his very first piano when he was still learning all the world had to offer. This is when he still believed nothing bad could break him, but he was proved wrong.
Piano. Favorite instrument.
I used to dream having a love story with a blind pianist.
He would be tall and dark-haired with blue eyes of course.
Am I totally romantic or what?
I see the piano. Standing in the corner of a room in a house filled with decadence. The children asleep upstairs, so unaware of the life they are living. A life full of beauty and love and comfortable normality. Of dance lessons and football and homework and school. I leave the piano. Alone. And return to my life.
Play me a song where the angles meet
Black and white together and mysteries repeat
Tell me you love me in 88 ways
And I’ll tell you I love you for the rest of my days
wow.. it’s amazing word! I like it and actually I love it because i play piano and i really love it. its very amazing intrument.. .
I was sitting by the piano when Thomas entered the room.
He looked as if he had come from the war. Completely messed up, ragged, his hair dirty, full of dust. Not the usual Tom.
It was unusual to hear her play – the soft notes as dainty as her fragile mind, her gentle fingers skimming the keys. Yet it was beautiful, and I admired her: the small smile on her face and her focused eyes made my chest swell, leaning against the doorframe as she played peacefully.
Er spielte ein langsames, ruhiges Stück. Fasziniert beobachtete Ruby, wie Niks Finger langsam über die Tasten strichen, sie liebkosten.
Langsam bewegte er sich im Takt. Sie lächelte unwillkürlich..
Nik wirkte entspannt und sie war glücklich.
She sat at her piano and played the notes that she would never hear.
I am looking for an old timey piano like the one I grew up with. I miss it and wish we hadn’t given it to my cousin I got my daughter a grand piano electric keyboard but it isnt the same! Something about those old pianos and they way they sound and look that is more special.
The keys they sing
Upon pleasant strings
Each note is pure
For stress, piano music is the cure
I reached out to touch one of the keys. A pleasant chime came from the piano. I then pressed different keys to make a nice little tune. I smiled at the sound. The way a piano sounds has always been one of my favorite little things in life.
She glided through the empty house, just like her fingers glided over the keys of the piano. It was a Sunday afternoon, her favorite time of the week to be alive. She was alone but she liked to think that the emptiness was better company than anyone else. The silence was comforting.
Her fingers brushing over the keys,
her soul slipping into a melody.
The music soothing her ears,
an innate feeling of peace;
resurrected by the frequency
of an unfamiliar tune.
Happily she hummed along,
to a song she’d never hear again.
kjkkjkljkjlkjkljkl1
the sonorous sound
i thought about moving my fingers across the keys
i wondered if i’d remember.
there was nobody quite so disappointed in me as my piano teacher.
The piano. I enjoy playing it since I was a kid. It expresses the soul. My happiness, sadness and all that comes in between. I often felt that it was the voice of someone else inside me, never me.
Music, what a beautiful language.
my fingers gently touch the keys
the tune is soft, barely louder than a whisper
i want it to be louder
but i don’t know what will happen if i apply any more pressure
i’m scared
The piano was in the window. Left there all alone. Memories faded from the melodies once had.
I would like to play the piano. To be honest, it is the most beautiful instrument i can think about. Not just because of how it sounds, but mostly because of all
See stories folder.
I would love to learn how to play the piano, but ii don’t think I have the talent to.
they played a song
of a dream turned into
nightmare
they played a song
of a willow by a river
they danced with the
black and white keys
and the song came alive
“How much for the piano?”
Laura frowned at the older man with grubby fingers. She moved to stand in front of the family heirloom, spreading an arm across the keys as though protecting it. “Not for sale. My grandmother gave me this.”
The old man rolled his eyes, then walked away. “I’ll be back, young lady!”
Dean pressed down on one of the piano keys, causing Amber to look up. “Would you like to hear me play something?
She nodded, a soft smile playing upon her pink lips. “I’d love to.”
The great barrier reef stretched across the piano’s new sunken home,
the pit-less bottom of sand and fish excrement,
the titanic sailed off for a long-standing good bye
to all its sailors’ favorite amusement from work
a length live animal beneath the sea, just stood
plainly glaring at the piano
note-less, the piano’s keys began pushing down
bubbles floated from each key,
notes,
in the form of bubbles,
ruined all the sea’s troubles!
I’ve always wanted to play the piano. Shame I am content to listen to others playing it. I have no real intention of making new music, but would play those songs I have fallen in love with.
the tortuous piano of life, beats one
beats two
beats strife when its time to face the reality enclosed in the envelope
but there are ions and wavelengths coming out of tunes
that repudiate the sender of that letter
its only black print
on plain paper
propensity for greatness proliferates when stubborn as metal clothes hanger-lines
reach for scrapers
don’t settle for scratch papers
one key
three key
four key five
I’m ready to jive whenever zealot fragrances pushing off my atmosphere behooves me
stay positive in your eyes
or thus loose me
The piano sat ghostly silent,
at the bottom of the deep blue sea.
Its keys were green after under the waves
Its wooden body rotting away little by little.
The sunken ship it had been ejected from sat nearby.
Barry played piano, and Trisha trilled on the flute. Their parents danced together as their duet progressed, from bouncy to somber, to nebulous and then back to bouncy. I sat in the corner of the living room, watching the choreography and listening to the melodies and harmonies, sipping a glass of whiskey that was older than I was. When the piece was done, I politely applauded, and all four members of the Wright family bowed.
He played the notes of his melody– a melody he created from his very first piano when he was still learning all the world had to offer. This is when he still believed nothing bad could break him, but he was proved wrong.