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An Old Violin

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  • An Old Violin

    An old violin almost one hundred years old,

    Graces the top of a piano for display,

    Beside it rests its cohort, the tattered bow,

    Once they brought enjoyment to folk on many days.

    Lovely sounds came as bow moved across the strings,

    When a young woman played it with gifted hands.

    Grand performances and concerts that could have been,

    Were challenged before what should have been began.

    Honoring husband’s dislike for violin strings,

    Such wife as God ever gave a man here below,

    Gave up her violin and great joy it would bring,

    Works of art went silent at last stroke of the bow.

    Humility, which true love must impart,

    Considering others more important than self,

    Like the wife who held that violin to her heart,

    Meekly, yet tearfully placed it on the shelf.

    The music died on that fateful day,

    As a result of love under strain,

    Went gracefully to an early grave,

    Violin was never heard again.

  • #2
    The violin/love link work very well here and your tone perfectly fits your subject. Thank you I hope I will get to rea more of your poetry


    • #3
      Evocative write Tigerman. Always a sad day when the music dies. Bye, bye Mrs. American Pie. Top of the queue and off the shelf.....


      • #4
        tigerman top of the queue!


        • #5
          This is a very nice poem. It’s an ode to a violin. My grandfather died four years ago from cancer, and he gave me his violin. I didn’t give it much thought, but now I think I should learn how to play the violin. So his instrument won’t die. I’ve decided to take some lessons, and I hope that this will be a new start for me and my grandfather‘s violin. I felt like this poem was about my granddad and his violin. Thanks for sharing it here. I appreciate it a lot. Sorry if I got too emotional...
          Last edited by BobGrantKC; 08-13-2021, 10:24 AM.


          • #6
            Tigerman - This one goes straight to the heart. Well done. Namyh