A Woman Being Played

two parts of the road as a whole © Borg de Nobel

I never knew my father
He died before I was old enough to
have too many memories
but, my mother told me he could
play a piano accordian like an expert.
Although he’d never been taught
he learned to play by ear
and, just as an elephant never forgets
neither did he.

He’d pick it up and music would
soon flow as he’d squeeze it
and, like a woman being played
would make those bellows sing.

*My father died at aged 27. I was two and a half.

Shared with dVerse Poets Poetics: Paintings of Borg de Nobel

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Author: Daydreamer

I live on a beautiful island in Atlantic Canada and design custom made candles

28 thoughts on “A Woman Being Played”

  1. I can so relate, from an opposite perspective of being forced to learn from a man who laid his skill down to serve fellow men. I’m not sure why, but I learned. He was self taught too. I loved the honesty and sincerity of our words. I was greatly moved by this poem.

  2. This suits the picture just wonderfully well – it really goes with it. A very sweet poem – so sad too, but a lovely sweetness, and a bit of, well–the woman being played had some losses too – k .

  3. So sad and so poignantly written. Such talents and he ‘left’ at such a young age. Felt for you Bren but it’s a l;ong time since! Nice write!

    Hank

  4. Sad to lose him so young, Bren. He sounds so talented. I just went back to read your interview and see I didnt ask you The Question: did you inherit a gift for music? Do you play an instrument, or simply Appreciate music, as I do? (I cant believe how many musicians’ children have the talent for music but were never taught to play anything.)

  5. Love how you describe this admiration for your father’s skill with the accordian, Bren…some people have that rare talent. Sad that he died at such a young age..

  6. “like a woman being played”: Great image. Interesting how it contrasts with the rest of the poem – well, at least how I had imagined it: Read by a young girl.
    Thank you for sharing a part of your life.

  7. “He’d pick it up and music would
    soon flow as he’d squeeze it
    and, like a woman being played
    would make those bellows sing.”

    There was lots to this man, and a lot of love for him.
    Lovely poem in a musical rhythm!

  8. tender bren….not knowing your father really but through stories…i imagine hearing an accordian might make you feel closer….love to watch a musician as well with their instrument there is an intimacy there…like a woman being played….

  9. Is this true story? if so, it sounds like your father was an amazing artist and sorry he left at such a young age

  10. What a talented father you had, Bren. Too bad he died so young without being able to fulfill potential of what he was in the process of becoming. My sister was like that with a guitar. Picked it up and was able to play it. No lessons. This kind of inborn talent always amazes me.

  11. nice..i admire those musicians that can play by ear…most people have to train hard to be able to do this…sad that your father died so early..

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