The guitar is a small orchestra. It is polyphonic. Every string is a different color, a different voice.
quote by Andres Segovia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Related quotes
My baSs gUitar stRing
Pull my string as i sit my back on you
i can make anything you want me to
your hands touching mine at the rhythm of blues
playing fastly like you do with your bass guitar, oh!
And you said relax, don't scream
i did bite my string to shut the voice within
as you move....move...and move...
playing on my curve, your bass guitar moan....
poem by InNer WhisPers
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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My Own Fairytale
my fairytale is beautiful it is the only thing that is my own
there are trees and wild flowers with little fairies
there are love bugs and butterflies
i sit on a log and play my guitar and sing beautiful songs
the fairies gather around to hear the beautiful noise
but my fairytale is dead now and has no color
only because my heart is broken and i broke a string on my guitar
and i sit on this log weeping and waiting for someone
to restring my guitar and to repair my heart
as if that will ever happen........................................... ...........................! ? !
poem by Breanna Wilson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Soloist Singers
isolation rocks
soul voice would
become more...
mainstream
golden voice
is orchestra...
soloist singers
must solo sing
orchestra backed?
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Memphis Time
(scott johnson, jesse valenzuela)
Hey, now its all right
Hey now, its fine, its cool
Seems weve done our worst
Its time to head for school
And so we tripped upstairs
I seen the sun come up
Judging by your shape
I think youve had enough
Its memphis time
Just string that old guitar
Tune it up to memphis time
Hey, now I couldnt know
Baby, I couldnt tell
Just whats going on
Inside of someone else
You know that this small world
Sometimes this big town
It can drag you up
As well as drag you down
Its memphis time
Just string that old guitar
Tune it up to memphis
You cant say that Ive been right
I cant say that youve been wrong
We knew it all along
(take cover scotty)
So we tripped upstairs
I seen the sun come up
Judging by your shape
I think youve enough
Its memphis time
Just string that old guitar
And tune it up to memphis time...
song performed by by Gin Blossoms
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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All gut strings. That's just the first kind of guitar I played, it was a nylon string guitar. And to me, it's the purest form of guitar making, and I just enjoy doing it.
Six String Music
Six string music
By: jimmy buffett, g.e. smith
1994
Turn off the t.v.
Turn off the crap
Kick off your high heels
Climb up in my lap
Chorus:
And Ill play music
A song from me to you
Simple six string music
A ballad or the blues
No interruptions
>from the telephone
Dont need call waitin
Just you and me alone
Chorus:
And my six string music (six string music)
A song from me to you
Simple six string music (six string music)
A ballad or the blues
Oh I remember that night in africa
My daughter and my little guitar
Straddling the equator
The king of zanzibar
Those shy black hidden faces
They didnt know me from adams cat
But the words and the singin
And the people in a ring
And the whole night went like that
Now some folks like icing
Some folks like cake
Some swim in the ocean
Some paddle in a lake
Well you can get into beethoven
Or you can groove on jimmy reed
But keep it simple stupid
All we really need is
Chorus:
Six string music (six string music)
A song from me to you
Simple six string music (six string music)
A ballad or the blues
Six string music (six string music)
Aint no symphony
Its just six string music (six string music)
So elementary
song performed by by Jimmy Buffett
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Color Me
I wish that they would color me
The color of the rose
The color of the spring
Or the color of the snow.
If again they’d color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color I could see
As long as I am free.
As I wish that they would color me
The color of the trees
Or the color of the leaves
And then that color I would be.
I wish that I was a rainbow
With the many colors of the sky
Or the single color of a star
Shimmering in the night.
And if again they would color me
The color that I would be
Would be the color that is me
Is the color that I could see.
Randy L. McClave
poem by Randy McClave
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Can Play (Lyrics) :
He didn't give himself up to fear.
And his voice had a life of its own.
He didn't give himself up for broke.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar', 'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
He didn't give himself up to drinking beer.
His voice still had a life of its own.
And he didn't give himself up for smoke.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
He didn't give himself up to curcumstance.
Always tried to make it alone.
He didn't give himself up to telling lies.
His honesty was already shown.
Always kept himself up to par.
Just a man who played his guitar.
He said 'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play it clear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'.
'I can play the songs that you want to hear'.
'I can play the guitar'.'I can play'...
Rock Lyric By Kim Robin Edwards
Copyright 1987,2009..
ALL rights reserved..
poem by Kim Robin Edwards
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Selling the Guitar
The old strings of this guitar
they argue with my fingers
Perhaps the E string
with its proud tone
has better things to do
Maybe one night
this guitar
chose to become a piano
or speak other languages
Someone put the words
Out of tune
It no longer understands me
Now the songs refuse to be heard
Now things don't sound the same
And this guitar, I'm selling-
Perhaps has something against my fingers.
poem by Elvis Lantan
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I listened to classical guitar and Spanish guitar, as well as jazz guitar players, rock and roll and blues. All of it. I did the same thing with my voice.
quote by Boz Scaggs
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unless the guitar works as a color, then I don't use it, so I haven't been playing guitar too much lately.
quote by Trevor Rabin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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One Small Voice!
just one small voice
in a sea of voices,
all different languages,
male and female...
crying out against the roar:
WE WANT TO BE FREE!
one small voice,
a face soon forgotten,
but a body and a soul...
one small voice,
but now every voice counts,
we are together the voice
of humanity and hope...
WE WANT TO BE FREE!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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What Color? (Hope)
what color
was the dust
from which the stars
were made?
what color is the hunger
written on the child's face?
what color is justice,
forgiveness, desire, truth?
what color is the wind....
the rain, gravity,
and knowledge?
what color is equality?
what color is freedom?
what color is eternity?
what color is redemption?
what color is God?
what color were the nails
that hung Jesus on the cross?
what color was enlightenment
falling on the Buddha as he sat
'neath that tree?
what color is prejudice, hatred,
fear, greed, apathy.....
what color your skin?
nay, what color is your blood?
and what color are the eyes
of humanity staring through the darkness?
and what color is hope?
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I Love The Sound Of Crashing Guitars
Mao mao mao...
I love the sound of smashing guitars /
I love the sound of crashing guitars /
Red guitars against the wall / big guitars can turn so small /
I love the sound of crashing guitars / show it!
The 6-string kick inside / the 6-string kick inside /
The 6-string kick inside.
I love the sound of breaking guitars /
I love the sound of crashing guitars /
Hey you long haired vintage jesus /
Break the guitar into 1000 pieces /
I love the sound of crashing guitars / dont you?
The 6-string kick inside / the 6-string kick inside.
Dont you love the sound of crashing guitars? /
Dont you love the sound of crashing electric guitars? /
Dont you love that sound, drivin in your car /
Dont you love the sound of crashing electric guitars? /
Dont you? / dont you?
I love the touch of watching the stars /
I love the sound of trashing guitars /
Custom made, townshends ace /
Smash the axe and break the case /
I love the sound of crashing guitars / crashing and crashing!
The 6-string kick inside / the 6-string kick inside.
I love the sound of crashing guitars / mao mao mao...
song performed by by Roxette
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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And over the last ten years, after my work with the Brodsky Quartet, I had the opportunity to write arrangements for chamber group, chamber orchestra, jazz orchestra, symphony orchestra even.
quote by Elvis Costello
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Isolation Rocks
to read poets
their poems
is time choice
actually poet
would write
more superior
poems
if educated read
other poets?
interacted more
nothing happens
in still isolation?
isolation rocks
soul voice would
become more
mainstream
golden voice
is orchestra
soloist singers
must solo sing
orchestra backed?
therefore
give me
the crags
rivers
waterfalls
wilderness
as I sing
their alone
only echoes
are
distant
heard
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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At a rock music concert
The howl of the magic guitar
brings me intense pleasure
and he is stroking string after string
while he walks his tripping step,
dancing along in a school uniform,
bringing me intense pleasure
as if I am also filled with the magic
and feelings wash over me
while he dances along in a school uniform
and it is as if the music fills my whole being
the whining, the clear sound
and feelings wash over me
while he gets pleasure out of it
enchants me and I know that this concert is uniquely great
the whining, the clear sound
surpasses all previous experiences by far.
The howl of the magic guitar
enchants me and I know that this concert is uniquely great
and he is stroking string after string.
poem by Gert Strydom
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The Musician
I don't like to brag,
And I never will.
But I play the guitar,
Like moonshiners play a still.
There really is nothing to it.
I'm just a guitar man.
I was born to play the six string,
And I've got a lot of fans.
You will never know me,
Because I am a lot of men.
Many names are in my pedigree,
A dozen men I've been.
I only play now, for my friends,
And for my family.
There is a sorrow that begins,
Inside my memory.
I have seen death, take my best friend,
I have been thrown in jail.
But I didn't want to let it end,
I did not want to fail.
But I finally threw it all away,
When I had reached the top.
I now live to loath the day,
I had to give it up.
It's just that I love my guitar,
On her I never learned to cheat.
And I never did stray very far,
And she made this guitar man complete.
She is gone now, twas my wrath,
And my son now loves her so.
And he is following my path,
His star is on the go.
10/13/10 vodka360 Alton Texas 9: 21 pm The musician signing off.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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No rush
I waited on the subway platform
and listened to a young woman
play acoustic guitar and sing
her face was round and her eyes
were wide with hope, she delicately played
as her voice draped over the
passing trains, her song kept pouring
soon there was a small crowd around her
watching her thick black braided hair swing
with the melody of her sounds
she made me forget about my train
I smiled at her soft pale face
and gave her a buck
several other people followed
and she played harder
her voice grew louder
and more trains passed
nobody got on
nobody cared
and nobody looked at their watches
we had cornered an angel
and we didn't want to let go
she stopped and took a small bow
and put away her guitar
the crowd thinned out
and my train pulled up
I looked at her one last time
she smiled and counted her dollars
I boarded the train and hummed
her songs all the way home
poem by Charles Lara
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I had a big background in listening to classical music and I started trying to compose, like I was playing the guitar but I heard an orchestra in my head.
quote by John Fahey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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