04-8-2007, 12:26 AM | #1 | |
Supreme Dictator For Life
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Father's Violin
This is a personal experiment in imagery. This is only a second draft so it's arguably a work in progress. Done in free verse. Of course all critique is welcomed.
Father's Violin Free from the toils of the day, my father removes his oldest companion from its case where he placed it exactly twenty-three hours ago and where he will place it exactly one hour from now. He gazes at its familiar brown countenance that never seems to lose its luster. The dim lamp-light reflects off of each of its four strings Loudly showcasing themselves against the proud pitch of the fingerboard. He runs his fingers up and down its smooth face; and gently runs his nail side to side across the wood creating the slightest buzzing sound over the wrinkles that only he knows about. He lifts his violin to his chin and the pure smell of polish mixed with the fragrant sap odor of rosin accompanied the pristine antique wood smell in his captivated nose. He neatly raps the bow against his knee to remove any excess rosin producing tiny puffs of dust like a long-neglected book dropped lightly on a desk. His calloused fingers pressed onto the strings, the bow assuming its practiced perpendicular position, All is ready, And Beethoven’s Romance in G begins to fill the room. The opening melody of double-stops sings to the empty living room. He willfully submits himself to Beethoven’s complex splendor. An alien commotion interrupts his play. He looks up and sees feet running down the stairs and his son opens the large French doors and enters the living room. He joyfully exclaims that he has wonderful news – He is to leave this house within the year. And upon receiving his congratulations, he turns without a word and exits through the large French doors again forgetting to close them behind him. Father smiles because son truly needed no pardon. He laid the violin down and shut the doors. The floor creaked under his large heels as he walked back to his chair. Before he sat he momentarily stared where I stood as one stares at a recognized monument at the end of a long trip, and smiled again. And he picked up his violin and sat. He resumed his play and reached his favorite phrase. His melody is unrestrained. He and his companion are performing a fantastic solo in an orchestra only they know.
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Last edited by All_That_Chaz; 04-12-2007 at 11:53 PM.. |
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04-12-2007, 11:59 PM | #3 | |
Supreme Dictator For Life
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Re: Father's Violin
yep, this actually is a factual event, and thanks for reading!
...just know that it's really not as base as, "he's leaving, sweet."
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Last edited by All_That_Chaz; 04-13-2007 at 02:29 AM.. |
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