The Creator Poem by Tom Billsborough
The Creator
Coaxed from nowhere
By insistent stares of screen or paper
Words emerge as notes on a score,
Each one both sound and symbol,
Binding together in unforeseen textures
To address and be possessed by the reader.
Were they ever mine?
Or am I just that tall piano
Standing in the corner,
Its white teeth gleaming with an insouciant smile,
Its black teeth dolorous
As the resigned gesture of an attendant butler?
Hahahaha...i dont know but this had me giggles a bit :) this piece remind me of you, funny kind smart and unique.. you know it always funny after i read it, i was thinking like there was a time i really work on something and i quite happy with it and when time passed i was like, what were i thinking that time...haha.I am glad i meet you again, and hope mr Purry the cat doing fine too...
Funnily enough my interaction with a piano is not great! Every tune I play sounds like a dirge. My hands are so slow. But mr P won't let me play any more. He leaps up in protest! Perhaps he has a very good ear for music. Better than mine, anyway! He's fine, having nicked the knee pad my daughter bought me for my birthday.
One wonders where inspiration comes from when words form together to become a beautiful symphony.
I know. It baffles me. This morning I was intending to write a poem based on some rough notes I made a few days ago but this one came out instead. The cheek of it!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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9/9/2025 2:15:08 PM # 1.0.0
bal·lade bəˈläd/ noun noun: ballade; plural noun: ballades 1. a poem normally composed of three stanzas and an envoi. The last line of the opening stanza is used as a refrain, and the same rhymes, strictly limited in number, recur throughout. 2. a short, lyrical piece of music, especially one for piano. ============================================= i was not familiar with either definition; i guess you mean #2. and, YES, you are just that tall piano Standing in the corner, ..............................................but you are a NICE piano! ! i like this poem, though my simple mind struggled just a mite to follow it. AND i refuse to look up either insouciant or dolorous'! ! ! [or envoi from the Google piece] Does the latter, dolorous, have to do with money? to MyPoemList. bri :) i looked some at other comments. Simone left a very nice one. Now, go back to your playing and when you get a chance, please serve my tea and crumpets.
The only connection of dolorous with money is if you haven't a dime. Then you are dolorous, or pretty miserable! My piano playing would put you off your tea and crumpets but if you are willing to take the risk such refreshments will be provided. I must warn you I'm not much good at making tea either as I hate the stuff. My daughter can handle that but I call her tea fortnight tea as it is too week. Another awful pun, sorry!