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The Violin

Sexual mahogany saxophony.
Roaring rumbling rounds of rhythic rounded blues.

Ah, the blues!
Blues, like falling sleeping down to dreams of
Trills, drills and bills.

This concerto is pure vibrant purple, and
Plays with perfect symphony.
Never mind ears,
My heart rings!

The majesty of purple anthems are glory to the gloom,
Mass of sound assaulting the darkness.

Alone, the violin screams out his humble heart.
Humble size, but no humble sound.
Section stops and listens for beating drum -

But no.
The violin plays perfect.
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Submitted on March 18, 2016

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Caroline Brown Claim this poet

I think I'm a storyteller. I'm often conflicted as to which medium to use, but with certain things poetry cannot be beaten. I am also a sculptor, and a scriptwriter.My poetry is an evolving medium so I really appreciate all of your feedback. Like most, I am learning and trying to home the craft everyday, whilst not forgetting to express myself in a unique and original way.Thank you! more…

All Caroline Brown poems | Caroline Brown Books

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    "The Violin" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 25 Sep. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/88210/the-violin>.

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