All the Passion

Passion, intension, direction, and dedication,

never with this endless verification,

as this leads to His musical sophistication.

The young age Little Boy on stage — talking,

with His big violin, next to the Big Man — walking,

doing His thing — at the age of ten: orchestra stalking.

Growing up in the North of Germany,

with lots of family and friends’ company,

when His days — on the violin — got tyranny.

All the effort is worth the frustration tears,

as the music notes flew into His violin gears,

to know that this is the start, like the Big Bears.

One day He got His new violin: a Stradivarius,

while there are lots more of a various,

as that might sounds ridiculous hilarious.

This happy kid made His debut at a young age,

turning everyday lessons onto His new life-page,

to continue the musical path on the big stage.

With His Stradivarius in His colossal hands,

thinking about playing in the world-famous bands,

hearing out His Mother’s reasons in all Her rants.

Telling Him He needs to come into His senses,

and not of His Mother’s energy expenses,

while He found out the wider lenses.

In His mid-twenties He wore a Paganini-style

haircut — to become this new Man for a while,

to let His Mother give the biggest smile.

Tuning His Stradivarius violin with the ugliest A,

as His sister was behind Her beloved piano to stay,

and get Their Mother’s proud, in a certain way.

The new year almost arrived to be together,

thinking about the year that wasn’t a feather,

as it was the storm of each kind of weather.

Toasting on a better future with lots of art,

hopefully, when this is all over and have a new start,

with this all on His favourite life lesson chart.

Wine, bread, cheese, salmon, salad, chicken,

steak, Russian soup, and more food — stricken,

all when He got very ill, a bit more sicken.

When His Mom hugged Him tight,

He knew She is always right,

and makes His life good and bright.

Then, a few weeks later, at His Mom’s place,

trying to play another instrument: the base,

and that was with not such a grace.

The red substantial fluid in His glass,

He tried a second instrument: the brass,

and His Mother said: “You should pass.”

His Piano-sister laughed out loud,

putting Him on His own dirty cloud,

while He ended and deepen bowed.

After more wine, He hadn’t Himself,

as He walked like He was the new elf,

and stood on His Mothers’ new shelf.

With His drunken festive head,

He took a big bite from His Sisters’ bread,

while looking to His beloved Strad.

In a moment He thought: “This is what I supposed to do.”

And with that thought He stood up and walked to the loo,

when there was someone scaring Him and it said: “Boo.”

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What passion do you have?

Mine is inspired by violinist Kirill Troussov.

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This poem has been published earlier on Medium:

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About the writer

Agnes Laurens is a writer. She writes for the local newspaper. Agnes lives in The Netherlands, with her husband and three daughters. You can find her on Vocal, Medium, Elephant Journal, HubPages, Music List. Writing is — aside from playing the violin — one of her passions since childhood. She is on Twitter and Instagram. You can subscribe to my mailing list, and you can subscribe to my Thoughts. Check out her books. She has an online web store, and she has a merchandise store. If you want to be informed about my online store and my merch, please follow this link.