The Music Not In Me
I admit it. I’ve got no rhythm…musically speaking, nada. The flaw basic. I could not count. Time invariably lost on me.
Music does not flow from my singing soul to my brain through this old heart to eager fingers. Years of piano lessons did nothing to improve my musical talent. It must have had something to do with the math involved in counting as a means of keeping time. I cannot, put simply, count.
But I love pianos. Will sit and play scales on almost any piano I pass. Which is why I love this pound for pianos in San Francisco. To save these beloved pieces for additional use is inspiring on many levels. Seeing all those uprights and spinnets and players reminds me of my love for poetry and the rhythms found in words placed one after the other in the musical cadence of song.
What do you think about when you see a piano or hear one played? Do you play the piano? Or own one? Would you rescue one of the Piano Pound’s charmers? Or do you have one that you wonder what will become of it one day?
Take pen in hand and write about your piano thoughts. What thoughts do those old keys unlock? Here is my initial thought:
Fingering the keys of memory
Handed, pounded down
Write what comes to your mind. What is locked up in your piano? What music waits for you? Write.
Write right now.
This is the link to the pound in case my hyperlink isn’t working properly. http://www.atlasobscura.com/articles/san-franciscos-piano-pound-seeks-homes-for-orphaned-pianos