On listening to my son playing the piano – poem for NaPoWriMo

Somehow, the notes fall into silence,
or rise, and somehow you are still,

and you are never still, you squirm and wriggle,
fingers tap-tapping, always on the edge
of movement, and yet now those fingers
draw the image of the music
on the keys, and the notes rise,
or fall, each in its own sphere of silence,
bubbled in stillness, and your hands –
muddy in my memory, waving sticks –
move delicately, are the thing
that calls out the silence, and the music,

and somehow the notes rise into stillness,
or fall. And somehow you are silent.

Day 22 of NaPoWriMo and we are asked to write poetry about creating another art form. http://www.napowrimo.net/day-twenty-two-5/n

5 thoughts on “On listening to my son playing the piano – poem for NaPoWriMo

  1. I love the completeness of this poem, Sarah, how it starts and ends with silence and stillness, with the effervescence of childish activity contained within the creativity. I especially love the way you describe music and hands in the lines:
    ‘… and the notes rise,
    or fall, each in its own sphere of silence,
    bubbled in stillness, and your hands –
    muddy in my memory, waving sticks –
    move delicately…’

    Like

  2. I love this poem, and doubly so because I’m an amateur pianist. For me, the very best line is
    “…your hands –
    muddy in my memory, waving sticks…” because it is such a graphic, and accurate way of describing the incompleteness of your memory.

    Like

  3. This is such a descriptive poem that sums up exactly how restless children piano beginners are in the newness of ‘sitting’ purposefully and are really ‘never still’! It was a beautiful discovery for me to read today. Thank you for writing it.

    Liked by 1 person

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