The Guitar Player
He is just a child, a guitar player
and he hits the strings of his brown guitar quickly
in a lonely kind of song,
as if he is going into the world with it.
He plays for whoever is passing, for the night
where the birds and crickets are suddenly silent
when he picks at strings with a deep sweet kind of hurt
and his hurting music cuts through all things.
Sometimes he feels the cold, the winter wind
that wants to bring him back to reality
and he is being devoured by life
where the stars shine high above him
and he searches through pockets for a marijuana cigarette,
as the last pleasure that is left to him.
[Reference: Die speelman (The playing-man) by N.P. van Wyk Louw.]
poem by Gert Strydom
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A Lyric to My Son and His Guitar
A Lyric To My Son and His Guitar
strum...
Strum the strings of your brown guitar;
Brings me to the music star lively as you are.
Far in the awful nights in an hour of silence
Plays me a song with ease and delight.
Plays no more a sad song,
Let the people hear only a refrain;
Of the imperial tune.
Strum...
Strum the strings of your brown guitar
Brings the world to the music star lively as you are...
poem by Elvira Marchan
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bloodline ***** LYRIC TO MY BRO AND HIS GUITAR
Strum ….
Strum the strings
Of your brown guitar
Brings with me
To the music star
Lively as you are
Far in the awful nights
In the hour of silence
Plays me a song
With ease and delight
Plays no more
A sad song
Let the people hear
A refrain
Of imperial tune
Strum….
Strum the strings
Of your brown guitar
Brings the world
To the music star
Lively as you are
poem by Rommel Mark Dominguez Marchan
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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
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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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Simplicity Of The Music Of The Spirit
attuned
i pluck the strings of guitar
and music
is soothing as usual
my spirit soars
leaving a painful body behind
now it is
the song that plucks the guitar
strings.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Strumming The Strings Of My Heart
I watch you play,
Making a beautiful tune
The strings of the guitar shaking
As you sit in the light of the moon
Your plucking the strings
With great ease
Making a flowing melody
A pretty song, just for me
I continue to watch
You playing your guitar
Making me love you
While your strumming the strings of my heart
These strings will never be touched
By anyone but you
You go where no one else can
Leaving a mark, like a tattoo,
Saying I LOVE YOU
poem by Katniss Everdeen
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That Old Thing? It's No You
I spent the night twiddling around on my guitar
A night when I should have been talking to her
Sure, she'll listen to me play
But I think she'd listen to anything I have to say
And this guitar will get old and worn
And the strings will rust
And the neck will crack
And the wood will warp
And playing this guitar gives me callus fingertips
But my girl, she's the one that soothed me when I was forlorn
She's the one I can always trust
I think she will always have my back
Even when I know it's not true, she'll tell me I'm always looking sharp
And she's the one of I sing for, when the song comes from my lips
poem by J.M Berger
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My Guitar.
my guitar has six strings,
it gets lonely when nobody sings,
musical and magical,
my pick makes my guitar sound so magical,
and no matter were i go shes right there,
when i play my guitar people always stare,
we sound so good together,
i hope my guitar will stay with me forever,
my guitar has six strings.
but it gets lonely when no one sings,
my guitar is never out of tune,
it doesnt matter who i play it too,
wether you're happy, mad or feeling blue,
just remember my guitar will help you get thru.
1/11/2009
Copyright ©2009 Jose Murguia
poem by Jose Murguia
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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.
My Lonely Guitar
At a corner my guitar waves her hand
inviting me to pick her up, to strum her
strings, to find out if all her chords
blend in harmony with my fingers.
It is waving her hand before my eyes
as in those birthdays, meetings, teaching,
and parties where her strings were made
busy to play melodies to people around.
Tonight she waves her hand again
calling me to play with her our common
game of songs which others can sing along.
But I just cannot play with my guitar today.
For whatever reason let this lonely night
find out; let me sleep and let sweet melody
sleep with me in my dreams and
let my guitar help me find the right chords
for my lonely song.
poem by Elizabeth Padillo Olesen
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Write A Song
This is a song
And I'm holding a guitar
I'm pouring out my long
And lonely heart
Now I know why Taylor said
What she said about teardrops
On her guitar
Every time I'm hurting I
Turn Taylor on
I pick up my guitar
And write a song
I say I'm not over you
But I think I'm moving on
I'm wandering in this desert
Going on and on and on
Now I know why Taylor said
What she said about teardrops
On her guitar
Every time I'm hurting I
Turn Taylor on
I pick up my guitar
And write a song
Drew didn't hurt me
But I still feel the pain
Every time I think of you
Hugging me on that very last day
Now I know why Taylor said
What she said about teardrops
On her guitar
Every time I'm hurting I
Turn Taylor on
I pick up my guitar
And write a song
poem by Nicki Luvetti
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This Guitar
He keeps his sercrets
Under his shirt sleeve
And hides his face
In his black hair
It hangs in his eyes
And all the girls think he's so cute
Why can't they see it?
Sometimes
He hides behind the school
And plays his guitar
It's so beautiful;
The rhythm he plays
No one notices what he does when he goes home
Because his mom's always drunk
And his dad's abusing her
And the boy tries to step in
To stop his mother from getting hit anymore
But it doesn't work
His father hits him instead
And he goes to his room
And cuts with his knife
Under his shirt sleeve
So no one sees it
And he hides in his room
And plays his guitar
This guitar
He says
Is keeping me alive
If I didn't have this guitar
I would've killed myslef already
Him
And his guitar
poem by Alyssa Ray
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Dreaming Country
I am sitting on a porch in a swing,
Dreaming country and enjoying the spring
Looking down a road that not on any map
While picking the guitar lying across my lab,
Dreaming country and living the life of song
It's the kind of living where you can't go wrong.
Dreaming country and walking the road of song
Singing proud, playing my guitar that I brought along
The tunes just come to me and the words run free
Country honey and the old oak tree
I feel the rhythm of the beat within my heart
The words roll out country; like a work of art.
Dreaming country and living the life of song
It's the kind of living where you can't go wrong.
Dreaming country and walking the road of song
Singing proud, playing my guitar that I brought along
Tell me do you feel the rhythm and the country mood
Do you hear the sound of loving that you can't elude.
Sit back and enjoy the tunes, let's dream of some country
It's the kind of music that keeps you so damn hungry
Dreaming country and living the life of song
It's the kind of living where you can't go wrong.
Dreaming country and walking the road of song
Singing proud, playing my guitar that I brought along
poem by Rik Bertrand
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Strings Of Freedom
walk with me..
you and me, not separate
our poem is totality
and our poetry,
is all months,
from january..
to december.
walk with me..
where to decide
the strings of poetry
mixed with both,
the guitar's strings
and the strings..
of all seasons.
walk with me..
it's me, who guides
to all strings,
which said no
and refused to sleep
but refused not..
to dream.
walk with me..
i'm still to wait
for all strings,
walking in time
and resisting,
being jailed..
in the guitar.
poem by Ahmed Khaled
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Yellow Guitar
It’s nothing but me now and these strings
There’s nothing holding me in between
I bought this yellow guitar
And now its stole my heart
There’s nothing but your voice echoing in my head
And nothing to complain to
Yeah I bought this yellow guitar
To sing to you
Cause I got all these words circling my mind
Got to many nights I stayed awake to cry
There’s nothing but these strings now to prove who we are
Im left holding this yellow guitar
Cupids arrow has struck me hard
Surprised how much I am in love
With this yellow guitar
poem by Christy Harris
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My Guitar Is Silent Now
My guitar is silent now.
Because you've gone away...
And there's,
No strings attached!
And no song can be matched to that.
And...
My guitar is silent now.
Gone from me is a need to tune up...
A humming done we did.
With happiness,
We celebrated.
And...
My guitar is silent now!
I have a need to sing the blues,
But...
Who would want to believe,
I'm as sad-as-I-can-be.
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
Baby, baby can't you see me deep grieving?
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
My heart is broken into pieces in me!
My guitar is silent now.
Because you've gone away...
And there's,
No strings attached!
And no song can be matched to that.
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
Baby, baby can't you see me deep grieving?
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
My heart is broken into pieces in me!
My guitar is silent now.
Gone from me is a need to tune up...
A humming done we did.
With happiness,
We celebrated.
And...
My guitar is silent now!
I have a need to sing the blues,
But...
Who would want to believe,
I'm as sad-as-I can be.
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
Baby, baby can't you see me deep grieving?
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
My heart is broken into pieces in me!
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
Baby, baby can't you see me deep grieving?
And...
Woe no no no...woe, no!
My heart is broken into pieces in me!
Woe no no no...woe, no!
My heart is broken into pieces in me!
And...
My guitar,
Is silent now.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Play For Me My Beloved Guitar
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Love Song for my Dearest whose heart is filled with hurt;
With your strings of gold
Pluck out all her troubles from old
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Ballad for my Son whose life is full of uncertainties;
With your tunes so mellow
To a straight path let him follow
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Lullaby for my Daughter whose life is full of struggles;
With your sound so sweet
Into life's hurdles let her succeed
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Sonnet for my Brothers whose lives seem to be so hard;
With your timbre so soft
Into difficulties let them keep up
Play for me my beloved guitar
A Gospel for the World full of hatred and war;
With your resonance so pleasant
Chaos and crimes be gone
Play for me my beloved guitar
An Ode for My Soul full of burdens of the above;
With your lovely tunes and my dexterous fingers
Healing, inspiring, uplifting, motivating and peaceful songs, we will play together.
10/16/10(17: 27) -GYO Iraq
This Old Guitar
This song appears on eight albums, and was first released on the back home again album, and has also been released on the greatest hits vol 2, favourites, the country roads collection and the ro
Ountain collection albums. live versions also appears on the an evening with john denver, country classics and the wildlife concert albums.
This old guitar taught me to sing a love song
It showed me how to laugh and how to cry
It introduced me to some friends of mine
And brightened up some days
It helped me make it through some lonely nights
Oh, what a friend to have on a cold and lonely night
This old guitar gave me my lovely lady
It opened up her eyes and ears to me
It brought us close together
I guess it broke her heart
It opened up the space for us to be
What a lovely place and a lovely space to be
This old guitar gave me my life my living
All the things you know I love to do
To serenade the stars that shine
From a sunny mountainside
Most of all to sing my songs for you
I love to sing my songs for you
Yes, I do, you know
I love to sing my songs for you
Words and music by john denver
song performed by by John Denver
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Chick Magnet
Don’t play the cello if you want
to be a magnet for the chicks,
a guy who on guitar strings picks
is thought be far more gallant.
I learnt this fact from Yo-Yo Ma,
who probably believes that poets
have also far more luck with coeds
than cellists. Maybe many are,
but I am not, unfortunate
with poems as he is with cello.
I wish I were a magnet fellow,
and made the chicks importunate,
first for my poems, then my bod,
but since I don’t play the guitar,
my life is black as café noir,
and I am lonelier than God.
Charlie Rose on December 3,2008 interviewed Yo-Yo Ma, who accompanied on his cello the singer and songwriter from North Carolina, James Taylor, who also plays the guitar. Yo Yo explained that he has played the cello since the age of three, and that this has not made him a chick magnet. James Taylor started off by playing the cello but gave it up for the guitar, which Yo-Yo considers a wise decision.
12/4/08
poem by Gershon Hepner
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Me and His Guitar
I am his guitar
I brought him music
He tuned me up
Followed whatever
he wanted me to play
He got me high
and got me low
He brought me into a nice shelter
So that I was kept safe!
He cried to me
when he's in deep pain
He loved me tight when
all he had was joy
Now I'm cracked
my skin is crumpled
My edges are broken
And my strings are cut
Strike through them up and down
hear from me my broken sound
I am his guitar
I am lost
Have forgotten the notes...
I play no song anymore
What is music to me after all?
poem by Luningning Minguez
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