Like Spanish Guitar?
She plays rhythm, he plays lead
Really strain their guitar strings
With incredible break-neck speed
Playing with passion n' with feeling
poem by Ray Lucero
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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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Some guitarists I know
Casey hides behind an Elvis swagger
And a marlboro red
He's small and charming
He has a smile that is velvet
He wants to live in a comic book
When he sings
Emotion hangs on his guitar strings
And He plays beautiful guitar
Green likes the blues
Johnny Lang, Stevie Ray
He has the style of Bruce Willis
Charms the pants off of most women
Sometimes he wants to be in love
But wonders why he cant love them
Like Jade and his mom
And He plays beautiful guitar
Dirty Kurt
Tall and lanky
Can write an enviable lyric in a second
Manipulates strings that makes girls weep
He has hearts in his eyes
Because He's in love with love
He has a radiant smile but his teeth are fake
And He plays beautiful guitar
John is solid as cement
Tall and expansive with big shoulders
With a big voice to match
Writes simple lyrics with complexity
He loves Iggy and the Stooges
And Mike Watt, Captain Sensible
John Lennon, Frank Black
Sometimes Eno
And He plays beautiful guitar
poem by Wanda Swim Strunk
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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He Turns Me On
He turns me on
Everytime he plays that guitar
Because the music that he plays in his guitar is beautiful
And it burns inside of me like fire does
poem by Aldo Kraas
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My Beloved Guitar
The long solid neck,
With flowing, refinded strings.
A base of cherry; finished wood.
Defined in figure, exquisite;
Among other things.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap.
I picked up my guitar,
And made my fingers tap.
A symphony from,
Those melodic strings.
Part of my hearts amour.
My fingers graze along,
This coppery and bronze decor.
A roughness they slide.
Along the ends;
Roughness on my fingertips.
A sliding; an arry of refreshing sounds.
One that echos into the bottem,
And emerges to astound.
My arm embraces the frame work,
A base of refined finished wood.
Tuned to a sound,
Like a guitar should.
My fingers cradle those melodic stings.
The light strum of my hand,
Makes music;
The guitar sings.
From the mouth of a speaker.
Out comes a tune.
With a cadence strum.
Fingers pressed down,
Out the music comes.
A symphony from,
This rhythmic harmony.
A tone in my soul.
A note that's always been apart of me.
A feeling I once knew.
I recall, a sound in the distance.
A beauty that plays so smooth.
Shaped with a curve,
Set down in my lap;
I picked up my guitar.
It slowly starts to come back.
That feeling, I'll never forget.
I recall, a sound not so far.
I recall, the feeling that day;
The day I picked up my beloved guitar.
poem by Jessie Jett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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Eep Opp Ork Ah-ah
Transcribed by bryson meunier
Chords used:
Gm7 d7 e7
E---10-----10-----12------|
B---11-----10-----12------|
G---10-----11-----13------|
D---12-----10-----12------|
A---10-----12-----14------|
E----------10-----12------|
Strum the gm7 chord for the intro.
Gm7 / d7 e7
Eep opp ork ah-ah
Chord progression for chorus: d7-gm7-e7-d7-gm7
It sounds like a bass with fuzz during the verse. the equivalent on
Guitar is bb5 with a fuzz box.
Gm7(with chorus or something)
Come fly with me...
Guitar solo 1-
E----------------------------------------------------|
B-------------------------------------------10-10-x--|
G------7b-r-b-r--------------7b-r-7-----7-7----------|
D--7h9----------9-9-7-9--7-9--------9-9--------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
E-----------------------------10h12--12--10---12p10--|
B-10-10---10-12-12-12-10-12------10--10--10------10--|
G----------------------------------------------------|
D----------------------------------------------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
E-12--10---12-10-12-10-12-10-12\14-------------------|
B-10--10---10-10-10-10-10-10-10----------------------|
G----------------------------------------------------|
D----------------------------------------------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
Fuzz bass solo(guitar plays chorus chord progression)
Guitar solo 2-
E--9--6---6---------6---9--6---6----------------6----|
B-----------9--6--9---------------9----6--6--6-----9-|
G-----------------------------------8----------------|
D----------------------------------------------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
B-6--------------6-----------------------------------|
G----8--6---6--8----8--6-----------------------------|
D---------8---------------8--6-----------------------|
A-------------------------------8--6-----------------|
E-------------------------------------6--------------|
The same chords are played at the end but the tempo obviously changes. at
The very end the guitar is slowly moving up the neck and ending by speed
Picking around the 22nd fret on e.
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Eep Opp Ork Ah-ah (Means I Love You)
Transcribed by bryson meunier
Chords used:
Gm7 d7 e7
E---10-----10-----12------|
B---11-----10-----12------|
G---10-----11-----13------|
D---12-----10-----12------|
A---10-----12-----14------|
E----------10-----12------|
Strum the gm7 chord for the intro.
Gm7/d7 e7
Eep opporkah-ah
Chord progression for chorus: d7-gm7-e7-d7-gm7
It sounds like a bass with fuzz during the verse. the equivalent on
Guitar is bb5 with a fuzz box.
Gm7(with chorus or something)
Come fly with me...
Guitar solo 1-
E----------------------------------------------------|
B-------------------------------------------10-10-x--|
G------7b-r-b-r--------------7b-r-7-----7-7----------|
D--7h9----------9-9-7-9--7-9--------9-9--------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
E-----------------------------10h12--12--10---12p10--|
B-10-10---10-12-12-12-10-12------10--10--10------10--|
G----------------------------------------------------|
D----------------------------------------------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
E-12--10---12-10-12-10-12-10-1214-------------------|
B-10--10---10-10-10-10-10-10-10----------------------|
G----------------------------------------------------|
D----------------------------------------------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
Fuzz bass solo(guitar plays chorus chord progression)
Guitar solo 2-
E--9--6---6---------6---9--6---6----------------6----|
B-----------9--6--9---------------9----6--6--6-----9-|
G-----------------------------------8----------------|
D----------------------------------------------------|
A----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
E----------------------------------------------------|
B-6--------------6-----------------------------------|
G----8--6---6--8----8--6-----------------------------|
D---------8---------------8--6-----------------------|
A-------------------------------8--6-----------------|
E-------------------------------------6--------------|
The same chords are played at the end but the tempo obviously changes. at
The very end the guitar is slowly moving up the neck and ending by speed
Picking around the 22nd fret on e.
song performed by by Violent Femmes
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The Music Comes And Goes
by: Tripp
the soothing sounds of a piano to a guitar the sounds they make
the feeling It brings when the piano sings playing the strings of a guitar
the times come and goes as the music grows
in the heart of those who play
thinking of that one thing that brings epiphany to that instrument you play
as you hold and take care playing with hopes and dreams the music slips through
and sings
i can't get enough of what it does to me
when i hear that sound that voice
the music she brings to my heart when I'm with her
her voice is the epiphany to my heart
holding on to her the music keeps playing
my heart keeps beating as the music plays
i keep dreaming dreaming holding on hoping this song will never end
dreaming to fall in love with this instrument forever
she is my instrument
poem by Preston Trip
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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King Creole
(words & music by jerry leiber - mike stoller)
Theres a man in new orleans
Who plays rock and roll
Hes a guitar man
With a great big soul
He lays down a beat
Like a ton of coal
He goes by the name of king creole
You know hes gone, gone, gone
Jumpin like a catfish on a pole
You know hes gone, gone, gone
Hip shaking king creole
When the king starts to do it
Its as good as done
He holds his guitar
Like a tommy gun
He starts to growl
From way down his throat
He bends a string
And thats all she wrote
Well, he sings a song about a crowded hole
He sings a song about a jelly roll
He sings a song about meat and greens
He wails some blues about new orleans
Well, he plays something evil
Then he plays something sweet
No matter what he plays
You got to get up on your feet
When he gets the rockin fever
Baby, heaven sakes
He dont stop playin
till his guitar breaks
song performed by by Elvis Presley
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Guitar Hero III: Legends of Rock
My neighbor plays Guitar Hero III and he has lots of fans.
He's better at it than other people, nobody can play it like he can.
He loves this game and he jams everyday.
He gets the highest score every time he plays.
This is the only game he plays and it really rocks.
He can't put his guitar down, he's king of the XBOX.
Sometimes it gets on his parents nerves because it's pretty loud.
Lots of people come to see it, he always draws a crowd.
People love this game because it's loads of fun.
Nobody can beat my neighbor's score because he's number one.
poem by Randy Johnson
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Max The Creative
Max with his big brown eyes,
kind of shy, but very creative deep inside.
Playing a Star Wars/clone character
Ibra Victor with his great skill,
he concentrates on his game being very still.
Max also plays sports-he is in soccer
he played baseball but stopped.
A couple of years ago in the fourth grade,
started playing the All Star Soccer game.
He started karate in 4th grade too,
he's so talented he plays guitar, maybe the Blues.
I saw Max at Christmas and he liked my poem 'Italian Skunk'
it reminds him of his math teacher who is a Schmuck
Max with his creative imagination has the leading edge,
he has already helped me with 'Razel's Revenge'
Maybe he can help me with character in 'Italian Skunk'
Max could come up with a story the 'Incredible Hunk'.
Max one day might become a storyteller real great,
I wish him the best if movie making is his fate.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on February 10,2012
www.suechevalier.com
poem by Christina Sunrise
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Max The Creative
Max with his big brown eyes,
kind of shy, but very creative deep inside.
Playing a Star Wars/clone character
Ibra Victor with his great skill,
he concentrates on his game being very still.
Max also plays sports-he is in soccer
he played baseball but stopped.
A couple of years ago in the fourth grade,
started playing the All Star Soccer game.
He started karate in 4th grade too,
he's so talented he plays guitar, maybe the Blues.
I saw Max at Christmas and he liked my poem 'Italian Skunk'
it reminds him of his math teacher who is a Schmuck
Max with his creative imagination has the leading edge,
he has already helped me with 'Razel's Revenge'
Maybe he can help me with character in 'Italian Skunk'
Max could come up with a story the 'Incredible Hunk'.
Max one day might become a storyteller real great,
I wish him the best if movie making is his fate.
Written By Suzae Chevalier on February 10,2012
www.suechevalier.com
poem by Suzae Chevalier
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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The Guitarist
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
Sealed in its case
Taking up space
I use a pick to play
The guitar, everyday
Playing a chord
Only when I'm bored
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
Its base is wood
Its strings are not
When you cannot play
There is nothing to flaunt
Before you play
Tune the sound
Strum on and on
Until a rhythm is found
Strum the strings
From room to room
The sound will ring
I
I have nothing to say
No light to use
No music to play
I'm idle
For I have
No guitar to play
poem by Pete Rivera
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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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Pinball Wizard
Local lad:
Ever since I was a young boy,
Ive played the silver ball.
Ever since I was a young boy,
>from soho down to brighton
Ive played the silver ball.
I must have played them all.
]from soho down to brighton
But I aint seen nothing like him
I must have played them all.
In any amusement hall...
But I aint seen nothing like him
That deaf dumb and blind kid
In any amusement hall...
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
He stands like a statue,
Becomes part of the machine.
He stands like a statue,
Feeling all the bumpers
Becomes part of the machine.
Always playing clean.
Feeling all the bumpers
He plays by intuition,
Always playing clean.
The digit counters fall.
He plays by intuition,
That deaf dumb and blind kid
The digit counters fall.
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball !
Hes a pin ball wizard
There has got to be a twist.
Hes a pin ball wizard
A pin ball wizard,
There has got to be a twist.
Sgot such a supple wrist.
A pin ball wizard,
Sgot such a supple wrist.
how do you think he does it? I dont know!
What makes him so good?
how do you think he does it? I dont know!
What makes him so good?
He aint got no distractions
Cant hear those buzzers and bells,
He aint got no distractions
Dont see lights a flashin
Cant hear those buzzers and bells,
Plays by sense of smell.
Dont see lights a flashin
Always has a replay,
Plays by sense of smell.
n never tilts at all...
Always has a replay,
That deaf dumb and blind kid
n never tilts at all...
Sure plays a mean pin ball.
That deaf dumb and blind kid
Sure plays a mean pin ball.
I thought I was
The bally table king.
I thought I was
But I just handed
The bally table king.
My pin ball crown to him.
But I just handed
My pin ball crown to him.
Even on my favorite table
He can beat my best.
Even my usual table
His disciples lead him in
He can beat my best.
And he just does the rest.
His disciples lead him in
Hes got crazy flipper fingers
And he just does the rest.
Never seen him fall...
Hes got crazy flipper fingers
That deaf dumb and blind kind
Never seen him fall...
Sure plays a mean pin ball.!!!!!
That deaf dumb and blind kind
Sure plays a mean pin ball.!!!!!
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Unspoken Heart Song
Subtle notes fly upon the breeze, notes coming from a guitar of the night.
The guitar plays sweetly for its master, for its gentle master.
The master is a young man, trying to find himself.
A young man with eyes full of care, behind these fair eyes a heart full of love.
You can hear his heart’s song on the breeze, for he plays from his heart.
His eyes meet mine, and I cannot help but feel at peace, the song makes my heart hum with delight.
I can feel the love held inside him, even though he does not play for me.
He is playing the same song that plays in the heart of his darling; his song is calling to her.
“Come home, come home to me darling. I am calling you, can’t you hear me? ”
Is the unspoken song on the breeze.
poem by Tolly Rebeka Christian BlackWolf Hawk
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The young man plays the flute, the middle aged man plays the harpsichord, the old man plays the organ.