Deep Blue Piano

Music from my fingers to your heart...




Welcome to my website, Deep Blue Piano, I hope you will enjoy
both the music and the poetry. The music is all original
composition and the poetry is a newer venture. I welcome your
comments on both and during the weeks to come i will add more
poetry to this site,

Please click on the Guest Book link at the top of this page to
leave comments. Thank you.


within the depth of oleanders

they reside
in the whitest of oleanders
in a garden that listens
to children's laughter

loose clothing
leaves a space between itself
and their bodies become
naked and free

breathing her in
she blooms with his desire
he covers her body
with his lips his eyes

in the dead sands of the desert
immortality has no path
there affair dissolves
like water in sand

the softness of piano keys
seduce beneath the sky
their melody
the brilliance, the stillness

their moment of music
aches across the sea
fever rages within him
recalling the scent of white hot flowers

poisoning, penetrating another woman
with his desire for her


the bees love poetry

oh to capture words
align them across paper
side by side
each word belonging
to the next
alighting our feelings
like the brilliant hues
which gather
to celebrate the sun
fall behind
the horizon
words so powerful
they awaken our tears
and withstand
the years
so we may know
the miracle
the sunrise...


the color putrid






far beyond which i cannot see
do i imagine existence
or does existence imagine me?
hearing the devil's laughter
echo through my deaf ears
nothing can dry invisible tears...


To Trust The Trees

My eyes have lost their place.
Perceived on a pathway
a seraphic leaf frees itself
flitter-fluttering effortlessly.
It's soft deliberateness strokes my cheek.
Billowing trees bow before me
blocking the black clouds.
As they arch their spindly branches
all emotion fades.
My lone steps languish themselves
in malingering mist.
Upon the gaze of awareness
I slip away,
before my vision will ever reach
the end, I trust the trees.


on an ethereal blanket blissfully floating

oh to catch our breath
on the dark side of the moon
void of earth's oxygen;

a wisp of weightlessness.

we inhale our very own imagination.
shimmering in silvery light years,
entangled silhouettes scintillate

with bated breath,

reflecting a universe
a thousand times brighter
than the sun.

a love ever so brilliant...


In The Heart Of A Poet There Is No Weakness

There is no existence.
We only think there is.

Every second is
taken for granted,
contemplated only after it has vanished.

Poetry....dear sweet poetry,
inhales the moments
we have exhaled too quickly.

It has no walls
to imprison our thoughts.

In between every line
abounds poetic freedom.

Wild willful self-expression...


How many children
were snuffed away
in the hell of man ?

Who then shall reside in the blood of a rose
and revel in its delight.

May freedom forever float
in the boundless haven
somewhere between our pen and ink
and poetic eternity.

For what is poetry
when forbidden to carry
brutal pain,
settling within the spray of gunpowder
from man's endless love affair with violence.

Those burning bullets
barely brushing by,
as we turn the other cheek,
stoically skipping through fantasyland.

A screaming scarlet coat
coveting a little girl;
smudged out,
forever fading
into a colorless world.

Let the sweet child
forever live between the lines
of the freedom all poets are blessed with.

Pain is not weakness
rather an awareness.

Without poetry...

How will I ever remember you?

A little girl's vivid presence
lingers in an aging acrid black and white photograph.

May we forever capture her
which we exhaled too quickly,
only contemplating after she vanished.

The little girl aflame
in her red coat.

She still smolders...

Her fleeting moment in time
left frozen in a photograph.

Forgive me for not writing about
the beauty in a flower
she never beheld.

Poetry is so much more,

not only for those who found love,


for those who never knew it...

A Window Just Barely Ajar

Hinting wisps of air hesitate.
Speckles of eons spattered on walls;
on floor.

All thoughts are held prisoner
behind a bolted door.

Daylight's delusion
refuses to shine on existence anymore.

The stillness saturates, suffocating all thought.
With merely a tinge of sheerness left to explore,

deranged disproportions of life
are prohibited from keeping score,

while hushed apparitions hover,
barely dancing,

the still breeze cannot ignore.
A subtle nudge, a slight movement,

and the world is at war...

Hi, my name is Janice Kelly.

Let me begin by saying I got my first toy piano when I was
just a little girl. For reasons I can't explain I not only enjoyed
playing this little piano but almost immediately started
composing simple songs. With each song I felt that a gift had
been bestowed upon my shoulders...a gift that I always wanted
to share with others.

Now here you are—reading my website—hopefully excited about
hearing the music I have written over the years. Music has always
nourished my emotional and mental states just as food has
nourished my body. Now my hope is that when you listen, you will
feel my fingers on the keyboard and my heart touching yours.

Some songs are new, others not...but each one is a gift I would
like to share with you.

Thank you for visiting my site. Please enjoy it, sign my Guest Book
and come back as often as you wish. Tell a friend what you have
heard here and the gift is multiplied.



Bipolar Love Poem

mockingly out of reach
i needed to look into your eyes...
you never noticed
the hot chocolate dripping
down the front of your shirt...
your watch strategically set
five minutes fast
we must have missed something...















































forever memories

god's mistress

know the pain in the sky
she is there spreading herself too thin
heaven doesn't know how to lie


rest with me

on a wooden porch looking out to sea
won't you sit for awhile and rest with me

when the evening falls and the sky grows gray
we'll wait until dark then together we'll say...

rest with me...always and forever, rest with me...

when the clouds roll in and the sun has gone
and the nights are short and the days are long

when the ocean waves have stopped rolling in
we’ll hold hands together and say again

rest with me...always and forever, rest with me...

on the wooden porch our old rocking chairs
give great comfort as we sit and stare

at the feather beds forming in the sky
that give us a purpose, a reason why

rest with me...always and forever, rest with me...



little red piano

i had a little red piano
i had little red dancing shoes
i had a head full of songs and notes
and my red piano played the blues

i wrote the music on paper
i filled up lots of pads
but they disappeared like a vapor
th' best songs i ever had

so now i hold 'em in my head
so i can always play for you
sit back and listen if you will
while i play you a song or two...

one day i lost my piano
and i outgrew my little red shoes
it made me sad to see 'em go
but now i can play th' soulful blues

we lose little treasures along the way
little red pianos and dancing shoes
things we had saved for a rainy day
longing to hear th' red piano blues

well, here they are, just pray for rain
and i'll play you a song or two
then close th' door quietly but come back again
to hear th' little red piano an' th' plunked out blues...



waves wander in 
mirroring the clouds
painting the sand
the sun serenely surrenders the day
crawling beneath its colorful blanket
eyeing enviously the miraculous elements at play

i knowingly walk upon an invisible mirage
reflecting the myriads of my madness
the shore magically mimics the sky
dipped in icy blue and golden lavender
it only takes one last breath to die
my soul banters betwixt sun and moon

and as sunken footprints slip through timeless sand
stepping farther apart
sifting through grains of midnight
there are two spirits at heart
stalking both sides of the moon
in separation as always

The Last Poem

To hear our very own heart
haunt the hall of echoes.

Those treacherous corridors,
pathways pacing back and forth

impatiently brushing against our vulnerability.
Treading on barefooted walkways,

triggering tears
transformed into lethal weapons

against all knowing Gods.
Hopeful sanity is sweetly lured

onto the long and winding road,
and Paul McCartney

sang don't leave me standing here,
lead me to your door.

"Please hear our hearts
smile from the sorrow."

It wasn't your guiding hand
that lost its way.

Rather, our feeble fingers
dialing desperate moments

while you lay dying.
Dissipating into another beaten echo

enclosed in the last poem.



Beyond the startling sadness lives a lonely place
your eyes surprise the darkness
that never sees my face

Behind the broken mirror looms a somber spirit
left with nothing to embrace
its shadow betrays the brightness

Before the dreary daylight detects a trace
wasting words for no one
i shall leave with fallen grace

Beneath the blackened veil cries an endless tear
too fragile for the human race
where a screaming secret whispers

beyond the startling sadness lives a lonely place...


almost and always

the shade of his eyes rivaled the shadows
looming in the corner of my life
his aura agitating my boundaries
almost and always there

we longed for our momentary gaze
to fall into itself
surrendering into a love affair
traces hidden in those faces and places

daring our desires
past a full moon midnight
where we lay waiting
for the sirens quietly screaming

the years never stopped yearning
molten desires quivered quietly
smoldering softly; burning
yesterday's sheets still blowing in the wind


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