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Like A Violin
by Jared OrlandoI would hate to bring up the past,
But winter breezes stir up dusty memories
And even in the Valley
Where your eyes get hazy,
I could still see a flash of hope,
Almost an electric jolt,
Of almost excitement in the way you spoke,
As if on a podium or by megaphone,
And you conducted my heart palpitations
With your whispery lines of poetic decadence,
Your lips moving in silky staccato fashion,
And if I was the same boy you taught many years ago,
You would still be playing me
Like a violin. 02/19/2010 Posted on 02/19/2010
Copyright © 2024 Jared Orlando
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by James Cavet on 02/19/10 at 06:26 AM Haha. Don't they always? I suppose your comeback would be: "Want me to imitate a violin?" |
| Posted by Julie Adams on 02/19/10 at 04:44 PM i love the flow of this piece, how it rolls into all the details, how it clings to the almost (though, have u considered omitting the 2nd use of the word?? just an idea)...how the music builds in this piece, like an orchestra, it flows full circle at it's climax, kudos poet...a pleasure to read u, peace, jewels |
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