Posted by Mrs. Emery
From Grace: Think of your favorite musical instrument and describe it using the five senses to the best of your ability.
Write for 10 minutes. Post your piece to comments.
Posted on January 28, 2016, in Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 4 Comments.
I feel the four smooth strings in my hand.
I see it’s long neck and it’s vibrant color.
I hear the soft, tropical music play as I pluck the strings carefully. One by one.
Just listening to it, I can taste pineapples and coconuts and I imagine a beautiful luau on the beach.
I smell the salty ocean breeze.
When I play the ukulele, I imagine myself on the beautiful beaches of Hawaii. The beautiful notes surround me and float up to my ears.
A smile grows on my face. My eyes close in peace.
It’s a violin,
polished to a sleek,
dark brown texture –
with a charming balance
between violent and silent.
The state of sophistication,
the smooth placement,
The bow –
reeking of rampant,
I wonder if it tastes as good as it sounds.
When I look at it, I see only beauty. With it’s black edges, fading into a light wood color, my mandolin is lovely. It’s eight strings look overwhelming, but it’s not. The silver tuning keys and engraving on the back adds to its uniqueness as an inrtument.
My mando is small, but fits perfectly in my hands. The feeling of playing two strings as one is odd, I will admit, but is easy to get used to. The smooth wood in my hands as I change chords is a wonderful feeling.
It has a slightly country, slightly folk, fully beautiful sound. The eight strings give it a distinct sound.
My mandolin smells of wood, and I imagine what the smell of the tree it was carved from.
If it had a taste, it would be sweet and smooth, with an unidentifiable, unique, yet pleasant taste.
Wired vessels lay under each of my fingers,
the sensation burns; hours of playing have left my fingers with indents and reddish hues.
But the coarse steel strings are a familiar home.
It produces sounds that appear in my head, sounding like a symphony of emotions
It can hold the low hum like a drum, but can sound sweet like a song-bird
There’s something to the way it looks; its curvy figure with the slight scratch marks,
The details surrounding the black paint and the long torso for which to play my soul.
Yet its bitter appealing look is different from its scent
It smells of songs; burnt up fingers that have played it for hours and hours
It’s almost a happy smell, inviting and warm.
To taste it would be odd at that, but I imagine with its cold exterior but lovely tune-age,
It would be a savory treat. most likely gritty at first, but you can’t help but to keep eating it because of the salty after flavor.
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