The Piano Teacher’s House
Floors of hardwood, high ceilings,
white curtains, candlesticks on the
brick hearth, clock ticking in dark
wood. Glass bowl of seashells.
No shouting here. No stale beer smell.
She waits for her turn making
up stories for the pictures
lining the room. Babies in white
dresses, men in uniforms,
women in plumes and velvet.
The green house with the piano
converts black insects into
music. She plays them into
gilt-edged pages of incense
breathing secret beauty.
Too soon, in the car, sitting
next to her father, not talking,
eyes closed, trying to keep
the piano teacher’s house
humming inside her.
(Go here for more Magpie Tales.)
"The green house with the piano
ReplyDeleteconverts black insects into
music.." Great imagery, Jo.
My favorite line? "The green house with the piano
ReplyDeleteconverts black insects into music." Beautifully evocative.
Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteShe plays them into
ReplyDeletegilt-edged pages of incense
breathing secret beauty
That's Music!
Love this! It has such a deep meaning! So creative and awesome that you pulled this poem from the prompt that was given to us! I really enjoyed reading this! Looking forward to reading more! :o)
ReplyDeleteI love the sense of hope in this, that the character tries to keep the magic of music humming inside of her.
ReplyDeletetrying to keep
ReplyDeletethe piano teacher’s house
humming inside her
A memory in the making... :)
Sweet images of hope, humming, carrying the tune long into the hours as time walks beyond these walls... Well done take on this prompt.
ReplyDeleteOh! I like this, very much! What a lovely tale you've woven from the photo prompt.
ReplyDelete"The green house with the piano
ReplyDeleteconverts black insects into
music. She plays them into
gilt-edged pages of incense
breathing secret beauty." - this stanza just vibrates with imagery and emotion.
What a gorgeous poem, Nana Jo. What a beautiful Magpie Tale.
The music is in the poetry.
ReplyDeleteThe wonderful thing about Magpie - for a non-contributor such as me - is that I can concentrate on how a diverse group of people approach a common prompt without having to think about my approach. It makes it a fascinating and enjoyable exercise. And, by the way, excellent words.
ReplyDeleteOh, I like this very much. Wonderful writing. :-)
ReplyDeleteconverts black insects into music...priceless
ReplyDeleteEvery line is a delight to read - wonderful
ReplyDeleteMy flute teacher's house looked a bit like Tess' photo ... your third stanza is perfection!
ReplyDeleteOkay, Jo, you must be collecting these for an actual book of poetry. I'll buy a dozen copies!
ReplyDeleteA Cathedral Of Sorts Me'Thinks.
ReplyDelete