Widow Pianist Poem by Norman F. Santos
Widow Pianist
Two hours before existence
He struck mindlessly
Lashing out, trying blindly
With ears bolted
From the contoured melody
And lips busy
In a genocide
A banshee fritters away
With the pressing of
His stale scrawny fingers
In a somnolent levity
Teeming with apprehension
And siphoned of tranquility
I am not a widow pianist.
How can I endure this?
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Topic(s) of this poem: depression,loneliness
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Circa 2011 - Experimental poetry.
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
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5/6/2024 12:27:14 AM # 1.0.0.1119
