In Tune

July 26th, 2011

He practiced his piece. Over and over.
It was nice.
Then the real music began.
Random notes, made up.

A foot pedal here,
a low note down there.
Running up to the top,
oh, and some pounding too.

It was beautiful.
Not so much the tune,
but the creation his fingers found
on the keys in that moment.

Her turn.
Missed notes, long gaps,
concentration, frustration, exasperation.
Trying to find the music
in the music.

Ahhhhh discovered glimpses.
New chords, rhythms and pauses
making sense, slowly, painfully.
She makes it to the end. A sigh.

She skips back upstairs,
glad to be finished.
Not understanding ,
that there is no such thing, finished.

There is always music
waiting to be played.
Whether it be discovered on a page
or simply found within.

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  1. Priscila Leal says:

    So so so beautiful, Meg!
    Thank you!

    “Trying to find the music in the music. (…) Not understanding, that there is no such thing, finished.” ♥

  2. Meg, glad to have connected on Twitter. Really like your blog posts and would love to put some up on my site, if you don’t mind – crediting you of course. If not, no problem, I will continue to follow these treasures for myself. I was just wondering, this morning, why I bother with social networks and was considering unsubscribing. Now I know why it is worth fostering connections!
    Warm thoughts,

  3. Anonymous says:

    Thank you both for your comments.
    Martine I’m so glad you can relate to my writing and am happy for you to share any of our writing. is for all, sow the seeds far and wide! Happy “gardening” and keep in touch 🙂

  4. shereen says:

    fantastic piece.

  5. Lola Santaella says:

    Beautiful poem..Like Martine up there said, there are gems all over the internet and this is one of them

  6. Meg says:

    Thanks so much Lola 🙂

  7. I was a child prodigy with perfect pitch, born into a family of classical musicians. I remember my childhood as a very sad time, these same angry words thrown at me daily; “You haven’t finished practicing yet!” Four hours a day was never quite enough. My sister grew up to be the concertmaster of the St. Louis symphony. My mother still runs a music and arts conservatory. My brother, a cellist, works at my mom’s prestigious school.I am the black sheep of my family. Nobody talks to me much. My mom, not at all. My big crime? I have, from a very young age, chosen to pull music out of the air. How dare I mock Beethoven by writing my own music? I know this sounds extreme but you should hear what words have actually been thrown my way. It’s odder than odd.I so appreciate what you’ve written here as you’ve spoken my truth. I guess there are all kinds of family :-)P.S. I’m sorry if this sounds sad. Truth is, I have turned out the happiest soul in my family by far. I wake up chirpy every day and have always believed it’s probably because fun fairies are always placing music at my feet and in my heart to discover. Just sayin’. You’re so right! There are all kinds of “in tune”.

  8. Meg says:

    Thank you so much for sharing your heartfelt story with us, you are an inspiration.

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