Ivory Thieves

Bear this in mind… I don’t write poetry. But there is something very poetic in this photo, and that something—whatever it is—inspired me this week.


ff piano

The dead of ivory gone

88 keys stripped bare

The white is their treasure

Not the music that soars emotion among heights and depths

Not the sonorous miracle peculiar to this ambitious creation

Not the woodwork that curves beautifully, gracefully strong

They want white whom can only lay lifeless, void of sound or joy on their own.

Those cold and finite thieves steal away the dead,

And leave the bones of the miraculous to grow new life.

Friday Fictioneers: 100 word stories inspired by a photo that Rochelle Wisoff Fields posts every week.  This week’s photo courtesy of Anshu Bhojnagarwala



35 thoughts on “Ivory Thieves

  1. For a non-poet, that’s pretty darn good. I love ‘cold and finite’. You hint at, but don’t say out loud, that the thieves can also be read as those who poach ivory from elephants. I think you’ve written a little gem.

  2. This is wonderful. I can’t judge the poetry since I know nothing about poetry, but the tale you tell about the focus on the seemingly precious while not seeing the worth and value of that which makes the precious shine is beautifully and cleverly told, and timeless.

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