The Mad Pianist

Poem and Watercolor

By Toryvio

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Somewhat disheveled his hair everywhere, hidden under a top hat with a blue feather. His boots all leather and crinkled with wear. His dress is most fashionable, though he lives under the stairs. A stained glass reflection inside his own mind. Candles burn slowly with mysterious light. Deep in thought he creates what he sees, an infinite number of melodies. He feels in different colors, dark chords and bright strings. A hand full of rings clash against white and black keys. A glass of red wine as he gazes inside. He sees other dimensions and hears ideas that they mention. Though never in a hurry, his thoughts race in a flurry; to capture  a moment, sadness, pain promise, or fury. I tell you he is something divine, he will take you on journeys through space and time.

 

Mad Pianist can you play that melody one more time?

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