The guitar has a kind of grit and excitement possessed by nothing else.
Related quotes
On Quitting
How much grit do you think you've got?
Can you quit a thing that you like a lot?
You may talk of pluck; it's an easy word,
And where'er you go it is often heard;
But can you tell to a jot or guess
Just how much courage you now possess?
You may stand to trouble and keep your grin,
But have you tackled self-discipline?
Have you ever issued commands to you
To quit the things that you like to do,
And then, when tempted and sorely swayed,
Those rigid orders have you obeyed?
Don't boast of your grit till you've tried it out,
Nor prate to men of your courage stout,
For it's easy enough to retain a grin
In the face of a fight there's a chance to win,
But the sort of grit that is good to own
Is the stuff you need when you're all alone.
How much grit do you think you've got?
Can you turn from joys that you like a lot?
Have you ever tested yourself to know
How far with yourself your will can go?
If you want to know if you have grit,
Just pick out a joy that you like, and quit.
It's bully sport and it's open fight;
It will keep you busy both day and night;
For the toughest kind of a game you'll find
Is to make your body obey your mind.
And you never will know what is meant by grit
Unless there's something you've tried to quit.
poem by Edgar Albert Guest
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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.
I Feel Possessed
She said I could never do that
But I know you can, you are in my dream
We are one person not two of a kind
And what was mine is now in your posession
I could feel you underneath my skin
As the wind rushed in
Sent the kitchen table crashing
She said nobody move
Or Ill bring the house down
I hardly know which way is up
Or which way down
People are strange God only knows
I feel possessed when you come around
It was one of those times
Wished I had a camera on me
Six foot off the ground
Well I know how that sounds
Look above you and beyond me too
That kind of view dont need an explanation
Im not lying, not asking for anything
I just want to be there when it happens again
I hardly know which way is up
Or which way down
People are strange God only knows
I feel possessed when you come round
Whenever you invade my home
Everything I know flies out the window
Its above you and beyond me too
I dont want an explanation
But Ill be there when you bring the house down
I hardly know which way is up
Or which way down
People are strange God only knows
I feel possessed when you come round
People are strange
I feel possessed when you come round
song performed by by Crowded House
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It was 1988, I believe, that I met Grit. We were both appearing in a Canadian Folk Festival and as we sat backstage he handed me his guitar. I played it, loved it, and then found out that he'd made it himself.
quote by Tom Chapin
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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You just have to stand and grit your teeth and know your poll numbers are going to go down - and mine have - but you gotta grit through it because the alternative is unacceptable.
quote by Chris Christie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Music of the Stars
(to Johnny Alegre)
I heard you first as I walked by
Abelardo Hall
The faint strains of a lead guitar
I just could not ignore
Quietly I entered
the large dim-lit hall
Soon I sat there feeling
What I've never felt before
It was the sound of longing
through the strings of your guitar
A man surrendering his heart
A traveller soul-searching
reaching for the stars
A prayer from the heart
You didn't know me back then
But I can tell you now
The music that possessed you
Took me in its power
For on that day a wayward flame
Touched my very soul
And to this day it haunts me still
A song from long ago
It was the sound of longing
though the strings of your guitar
That echoed the longing in my heart
I know I won't forget
That mystical guitar
That song of timeless distant stars
poem by Sonya Florentino
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Well I was on the one hand, the more I played the guitar the more I began to really love the guitar and to love virtually any kind of music that anybody played well on guitar.
quote by John Fahey
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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My Sad Guitar (In Iraq)
When I play...my sad guitar,
With powered chords...of deep emotion.
I strum the strings...with such devotion,
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
In a bunker, built in the sand.
This war torn country, this desert land,
I miss playing...In a rock and roll band.
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
My memories play,
Deep in my mind,
I try to find-
Our... wedding... day!
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
When I play...my sad guitar,
I think of my Harley...My hot-rod car,
Wishing I was home,
With a beer in a bar.
When I play...my...sad...guitar.
poem by Philip Lore
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The Fastest Guitar Alive
Orbison/dees
Hey here I go a lucky so and so
Happy cos I know Ive got my fast guitar
Singing pretty songs, knowing I belong
I am first and last, and always a fast guitar
The fastest guitar alive
Rattling strings like a gattling gun
Shaped like a lovely woman
Stay right where you are
My guitar is a fast guitar
The fastest guitar alive
Im rolling on like a rolling stone
Gathering no moss, I play a boss guitar
The fastest guitar alive
Strumming like a battling soldiers drum
Shaped like a lovely woman
Stay right where you are
My guitar is a fast guitar
The fastest guitar alive
Hey here I go a lucky so and so
Happy cos I know Ive got my fast guitar
The fastest guitar
The fastest guitar
The fastest guitar alive
song performed by by Roy Orbison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Guitar (Can't Keep From Crying)
(one, two, three, four)
Found myself out on a limb
But Im happier than Ive ever been
But this guitar cant keep from crying
Learned to get up when I fall
Can even climb rolling stone walls
But this guitar cant keep from crying
This here guitar can feel quite sad
Can be high strung, sometimes get mad
Cant understand or deal with hate
Responds much better to love
I though by now you knew the score
But you missed the point just like before
And this guitar cant keep from crying
(this) guitar, it cant keep from crying
This guitar cant keep from crying
This here guitar can feel quite sad
Can be high strung, sometimes get mad
It cant understand or deal with hate
Responds much better to love
While you attack, create offence
Ill put it down to your ignorance
But this guitar it cant keep from crying
This guitar cant keep from crying
This guitar cant keep from crying
This guitar cant keep from crying
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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This Guitar
(one, two, three, four)
Found myself out on a limb
But i'm happier than i've ever been
But this guitar can't keep from crying
Learned to get up when i fall
Can even climb rolling stone walls
But this guitar can't keep from crying
This here guitar can feel quite sad
Can be high strung, sometimes get mad
Can't understand or deal with hate
Responds much better to love
I though by now you knew the score
But you missed the point just like before
And this guitar can't keep from crying
(this) guitar, it can't keep from crying
This guitar can't keep from crying
This here guitar can feel quite sad
Can be high strung, sometimes get mad
It can't understand or deal with hate
Responds much better to love
While you attack, create offence
I'll put it down to your ignorance
But this guitar it can't keep from crying
This guitar can't keep from crying
This guitar can't keep from crying
This guitar can't keep from crying
song performed by by George Harrison
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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I'd always liked to read, but when I picked up books I wasn't getting the same kind of excitement from them that I was from going out clubbing. I wanted to get the same kind of feel.
quote by Irvine Welsh
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skin
Have no eyes, I must see, you walk out, a violent burst of some kind kind kind kind, mindstate a dirty little drunk and cluttered. shinning a problem of pictorial illusion, dump the trunk and te
E little freak out out out. an unparallelleled account of collapse appearing like yourself liberation appearing like myself mutilation. hold still now, nobody turns, said yeah! thier back on me. silence is deafening desperate waking up. motive spasm my back aches. termination detentation, da-la-sco.. no w this room dont seem so small sitting here in a cage of some kind kind kind kind miracle and some hallucination, dropped excitement from my last words shut the door and turn the t.v. on on now that Ive done all that I can.
song performed by by Rob Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Skin
Have no eyes, I must see, you walk out,
a violent burst of some kind kind kind kind,
mindstate a dirty little drunk and cluttered.
Shinning a problem of pictorial illusion,
dump the trunk and tear the little freak out out out.
An unparallelleled account of collapse appearing like yourself
liberation appearing like myself mutilation.
Hold still now, nobody turns, said yeah!
Thier back on me. Silence is deafening desperate waking up.
Motive spasm my back aches.
Termination detentation, da-la-sco..
now this room don't seem so small sitting here in a cage
of some kind kind kind kind miracle and some hallucination,
dropped excitement from my last words shut the door
and turn the T.V. on on now that I've done all that I can.
song performed by by White Zombie
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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False Teeth - A Children's Poem
Our teacher had false teeth;
She kept them in a box
Inside the classroom cupboard
Which she forgot to lock,
So we broke in at break-time
And took them out to play.
They fell into a puddle
And turned a muddy grey.
We gave them back to teacher;
She had to grit her teeth
Or, rather, to de-grit them
For grit was underneath
Under the muddy covering
Mixed with her chewing gum.
This made her gums quite tender;
She didn’t find it fun.
But later we regretted
The mischief that we’d made;
When lessons stopped for playtime,
Our teacher soon explained
That punishment must fit the crime
So, for our evil sin,
Just like her now-cleaned gnashers,
She had to keep us in.
poem by C. Richard Miles
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Initially Exaggerated
Discovering anything new,
Presents an excitement...
One wishes to keep possessed.
Then something happens!
A familiarity with the relationship,
Becomes a series of tests.
With a wish sought to outdo...
A higher state of pleasure,
One seldom gets.
Although...
A search continues to recreate,
What was initially exaggerated...
In the first place.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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
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Hangdog Hotel Room
I go in for singing, I do it for my pay
But the kind of gig I can really dig is swiggin at the break of day
With a few good friends and neighbors into playin the nighttime tunes
So pass the jar and that old guitar in this hangdog hotel room
I believe in magic, a little monkeyshines
But the kind of row I can really hoe is playin in tune on time
With rhythms all around us were like weavers at the loom
So pass the jar and that old guitar in this hangdog hotel room
Oh lord it feels so good to play a nighttime tune
So pass the jar and that old guitar in this hangdog hotel room
When it comes to mornin and goin out at night
Well the kind of test that I like the best is rubbin the wrong girl right
And a few good friends and neighbors in to playin the nighttime tunes
So pass the jar and that old guitar in this hangdog hotel room
Oh lord it feels so good to play a nighttime tune
So pass the jar and that old guitar in this hangdog hotel room
With rhythms all around us were like weavers at the loom
So pass the jar and that old guitar in this hangdog hotel room
song performed by by Gordon Lightfoot
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Ungramatically, right..!
I have a guitar
It asks me questions...
Replies my doubts...
At times generate novel music...
Without me playing, very noble.!
Many a times I thought
To enter the inner of that...!
As I entered it....
To know its wonders...,
Wonders of its everything...
Kid I became...
For my guitar..! ,
Because of entering its inner beauty..
I was cared as inside of my mom!
And became sacred too...!
Because I dont know anything...
Other than my presence in its kling..!
I am not fully fit to describe about the guitar....
Guitar...my mom...!
Because its my world...my universe..!
To the people it may seem as I am creating music
From the inside and outside by tricks..!
But ultimately....
The guitar only has created me...!
I am the guitar's kid! !
When I Walked Into
the waiting room
at the dentist’s
there was only one seat open…
i took it,
grabbed a copy of Newsweek
and tried to hide my face.
but,
before i even
opened the magazine
this guy on my right
starts talking:
“…used to play guitar once…
years ago,
when i was a kid.
i was pretty good at it, too! ”
knowing it was useless,
i put down the magazine
and turned toward him.
he was
an ordinary kind of guy…
maybe 50.
“it was a great way
to pick up women.
i met all sorts of women
when i was playing guitar.
that’s how i met my wife.”
just then they called my name
and i stood up.
he reached for my magazine
and said:
“yep, it’s been years
since i played guitar.
now i play
second fiddle.”
poem by John Yamrus
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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