for The Sunday Muse
‘
ou’ve got no friends’ my father said. ‘You need a proper job’. There was no point in arguing. But my fingers were my tools, ivory keys my colleagues and composers my friends. As a pianist I earned little, but it paid the bills.
I cannot describe the feeling I had whilst sitting at my piano upon a stage, notes flying, gliding, hovering, diving. My audience flew with me. They smiled; sometimes they wept. I wept. Such is the power of music.
I played in smoky jazz bars too, a tot of whisky and a cigarette to hand. It was so different. There, my music competed with chattering crowds. I played loudly they spoke loudly; in quiet pieces, they murmured. I stopped and they stopped! But I loved it.
Time took its toll on my overworked hands. I play little now. My piano sits ‘neath a dusty cover in the corner of my room. I occasionally play for old folk and sometimes stand in for the organist at my church. But music remains my constant companion, though now I consume rather than create. It will never desert me, never.
‘
Khatia Buniatishvili at the piano.
Thanks to Carrie for being our host.
.
Keith's Ramblings 
Such a moving story Keith. I thought it was a bio.
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I wish I could say it was, thanks so much, Sadje.
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You’re most welcome
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Beautiful, Keith. At first, knowing your usual style, I was waiting for a punchline that never came. Then I admired this little memoir for what it was. Beautiful 🙂
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They do say a change is good as a rest! I’m really pleased you liked it Sunra, thank you.
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You’re welcome, Keith 🙂
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This captured the feeling the image evokes beautifully Keith!
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Doing something to earn a living that is loved is a rare gift.
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If only we all could.
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The biography of a musician that I’m sure many who make music can relate to. Very few get rich from it, but every one loves the feeling of the magic it gives them to make it and to share it.
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Absolutely so, Lisa.
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I, too, thought it was biographical–nonetheless, it’s lovely!!
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Thanks so much, Leyde.
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You’re always sincerely welcome.
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Is this a True Story, Keith? Mrs. Jim’s piano will be given away when we downsize.
She has arthritis that makes her hands hurt. About the same with her viola. My older
daughter has never had as real job, her music devoured her time. She writes music,
wrote for and memorized the whole Bible book of Ephesians. Some are copyright,
did you know you can do that by sending a disk with some paperwork?
..
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I wish it was Jim, but sadly no. Thanks for your interesting comment.
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Hi Keith – delightful story and so appropriate with the image … and I love the comments – cheers Hilary
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me too! Thanks so much, Hilary.
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Love the way the music reverberates through this. Every piece (words, image, music) work well together.
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That’s so kind of you, thanks so much.
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“They smiled; sometimes they wept. I wept. Such is the power of music”
I luv the companionship of music in your poem
Happy Sunday
Much💖love
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I’m so pleased you liked it Gillena thank you.
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Really like the image you chose Keith. I ran with blues on one of mine. Nice work… 🙂
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Thank you Rob, on my way to yours now!
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Where would we be without our musicians? Lovely reflective story, Keith.
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Keith, your words touched my soul. Resonated deeply inside my heart. That is what music means to me as well. Every now and then I pull out my trusty flute, but after half an hour, my lips and muscles surrounding them give way.
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Love the story. I have so many musician friends I’m sure would feel this one.
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You perfectly described the effect of music on musician and audience.
Love these lines:
“I cannot describe the feeling I had whilst sitting at my piano upon a stage, notes flying, gliding, hovering, diving.”
“I played in smoky jazz bars too, a tot of whisky and a cigarette to hand.”
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Thank you so much for your kind wirds.
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