The Cello

 

The Cello

 

 

Standing silently in the corner of the sunlit room

She awaits in quiet anticipation

The touch of her Master's hand.

 

He alone possesses the power

To transform her from the awkward block of wood she is without Him,

Into the instrument of astounding beauty and grace she becomes when wrapped in His arms.

 

There, neck to neck, consumed with the passion of young lovers and the caring respect of old,

They flow as one to the rhythm of their own private love song.

Only He could fill her being with the fires of creativity allowing her to fulfill her destiny.

 

She waits,

Lonely, but knowing,

Anticipating his strong, but gentle touch.

 

 

Reviews

[Jonathan Ballam]

Great combination of voices and images.

One word I'd consider changing is "astounding" which is a bit overused in poetry. Maybe try a word like ancient.

Overwise two thumbs up!

[emmajoy]

As Paul Tortellier was and remains one of my heroes .. this poem rings every bell with me. I've videos etc of his playing going back to when I was a little girl.. the vision of him holding and playing his cello was almost like watching passion at its most sublime.

What a superb marriage of poetry with music.. your words are beautiful

[SoulofManyFaces]

This is beautiful, graceful flow of musical foreplay.
You gave character to something so simple and made
it extrodinary. These first three stanza's make set the stage
for the rest of the poem: Standing silently in the corner of the sunlit room

She awaits in quiet anticipation

The touch of her Master's hand.
This was a joy to read:).

[Sheila Kline]

Since I do not often write free verse, I find this refreshing with a message of strength!

Nicely expressed from the perspective of an unformed object with musical potential that comes only from the work of another who is able to recognize its potential!