Keep On Strumming The Guitar Strings
my dear
keep on strumming the guitar strings
on this lonely night
where are the stars
are dead and gone
keep on strumming and let me simply
hum a tune for you
keep on strumming until your fingers
bleed until i stop singing until
the two of us become one
breathing soul
in our chosen spot
of silence.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Related quotes
Those Few Weeks...
i may be a surprise
you seeing me strumming the strings of an old guitar
and i shall not fail to remember on the first few weeks
after our wedding day
what a guitarist you are
strumming my smooth and glossy guitar
cautiously you made my my ribs sing
as i trembled with all joy
and perhaps you must remember too
how i caressed your hair
like i was finding some lyrics of my own song
for you that night
when the sky was young and the stars
were newly born
they were all flickering like some fireflies
we must remember....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Summer Stars
Bend low again, night of summer stars.
So near you are, sky of summer stars,
So near, a long-arm man can pick off stars,
Pick off what he wants in the sky bowl,
So near you are, summer stars,
So near, strumming, strumming,
So lazy and hum-strumming.
poem by Carl Sandburg
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Away From My Moody Attitudes
The strumming of strings,
Heard on...
Your guitar,
Expands my mind with your melodies...
No matter if I'm moody.
Or...
Hard to please.
The strumming of strings,
Heard on...
Your guitar,
Expands my mind with your melodies...
No matter if I'm moody.
Or...
Hard to please.
To witness the dew with mist lifting,
In the early morning dawn...
Comes to deliver a fresh acceptance,
With...
A feeling I can't miss,
To let drift away or go on with a need in me...
Internally I ssek to feed as if feasting.
The strumming of strings heard on your guitar,
Delivers a fresh acceptance with...
A feeling I just can't let,
Escape away.
I am not promised a repeating of these unique days.
The strumming of strings heard on your guitar,
Delivers a fresh acceptance with...
A feeling I just can't let,
Escape away.
Only you can move me,
In the way you do...
Away from my moody attitudes.
Only you can move me,
Away from my moody attitudes.
Only you can move me,
In the way you do...
Away from my moody attitudes.
Only you can move me,
In the way you do.
To give me what's overdue.
Only you can move me,
In the way you do.
To give me what's overdue.
Away from my moody attitudes.
And...
Only you can move me,
To give me what's overdue.
Away from my moody attitudes.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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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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Ivory Tower
A Goddess rests with her harp.
The distance music and I hear her strumming.
Yet I am for a long way and stagnant.
I feel the time is walking and somebody is waving.
Days, Months and Years passed.
Hero is old, broken heart and hard of hearing.
But still she is strumming and never gets old.
poem by Nimal Dunuhinga
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Searching For Soul
SEARCHING THE SOUL
Searching the soul strumming the guitar's sullen strings
Making music to resonate the sorrow of the moment
Roaming on the fret with fingers showing the feelings
Trying to blend the tears of grieving heart's sentiment
Searching the soul for the reasons of the event
Hoping to find the answers for what it meant
Searching the soul to find a way to repent
Trying to forget the bitter past of torment
Searching the soul for love of life that slipped away
Helpless victim of the fate of cruelty of the time
Playing the sad tunes with emotions that is in disarray
Crying in silence while playing the guitar twine
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
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Searching The Soul
Searching the soul strumming the guitar's sullen strings
Making music to resonate the sorrow of the moment
Roaming on the fret with fingers showing the feelings
Trying to blend the tears of grieving heart's sentiment
Searching the soul for the reasons of the event
Hoping to find the answers for what it meant
Searching the soul to find a way to repent
Trying to forget the bitter past of torment
Searching the soul for love of life that slipped away
Helpless victim of the fate of cruelty of the time
Playing the sad tunes with emotions that is in disarray
Crying in silence while playing the guitar twine
poem by Mittur Ramprasad
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Fingers
I see your fingers
touching tenderly,
reaching out in love
and with great care
plucking at strings and chords
strumming with great skill
and sometimes setting fire
to a tune on your guitar
floating over the piano keys
touching here and there
like a butterfly drifting in the air
tapping keys on the computer keyboard
writing poetry, sometimes songs
singing them along
brushing strokes on a canvass or board
mixing colours to the exact hue
painting images from your head
spreading emotions from the depth of you
magically giving life
dancing along with a rhythm of their own.
poem by Gert Strydom
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My Guitar And A Penutbutter Jar
I sit and play my guitar all day
as my fingers lay on the strings so tight
strumming it lightly
make sounds of pain
my fingers are bleeding but i dont care
the pain i feel inside is much stronger
why am i still alive?
can i take this any longer?
his voice tells me to keep playing on
my hearts want to die after my last song
i reach for the jar of penutbutter
they say there is happyness at the bottom
but they lie
the only thing i have left
is my guitar and an empty penutbutter jar
scrapping at the bottom as it keeps me busy
my hearts are screaming PICK UP THE BLADE! !
dont put it down because its the only happeness you will ever know
its hard to stop some times i give in and do it
the blood flowing from my wrist to my guitar
my tears mixing in
so maybe there is hapyness in
my self mutilation, my guitar
and at the end of an empty penutbutter jar
poem by Sandy Vanity
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Me & My Guitar
Me and my guitar...
Strumming...
Singing...
Re sonating...
Wayward thoughts subliming...
Open lines and chords
Transcend this far
And wide place -
The universe
And emancipation
Of souls.
Killing Me Softly (live At Showcase)
I heard he sang a good song, I heard he had a style
And so I came to see him, and listen for a while.
And there he was, this young boy, a stranger to my eyes
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly, with his song
One time ya'll
Strumming my pain with his fingers
Singing my life with his words
Killing me softly with his song
Killing me softly with his song
Telling my whole life with his words
Killing me softly, with his song
(applaus)
thank you
so..
(applaus)
thank you
so songs like that realy made a impact on my life
song performed by by Alicia Keys
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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The unknown rockstar
He sits in the park
Singing to his own tune
Strumming his guitar to his own chords
The park was rather busy this afternoon
But yet no one seems to see him
As if their life was too busy or important
To just stop and pay attention
To this one guy
Maybe just maybe
Nobody could care about this stranger
This stranger sitting at the park
Well maybe that’s not entirely true
For there is this one girl
Every chance she’s able to go
She comes to the park
In search of him
The unknown rockstar
The guy with no name
With a voice that no words could describe
His talent with a guitar that no one can match up to
He’s an unknown guy
That’s why no one notices him
That is, besides one girl
Who just notices him
As the unknown rockstar
poem by Storm Pedersen
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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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There Are a Lot of People in the World Called Jack
There’s an old man singing
Out on his front porch
Strumming his guitar
Like it’s 1954.
It may have been a while
But he remembers every chord
And although it doesn’t look like much
It’s all he could afford.
Yes, the paint is peeling
And the strings are wearing thin
And it’s still sporting the logo
Of the band he once was in
But every cent he ever earned
Bought him that guitar
He should have known that green ambition
Never gets you far.
His fingers pace the tired strings.
Performing through the days
Mister-Money-Buys-You-Talent
So-I’m-Al ways-Going-To-Pay.
Stupid to the audience
Who stand around and stare
He closes his eyes and flutters back
Forgets his silver hair.
When he carried solos
With the music in his arms
Failure was not a choice
Nothing could do him harm.
As the final bar echoes
A chord dies in his hands
He falls down hard onto his porch,
And ceases the painful sound.
His weary face stares from his hands
The audience just smile,
Walk from the man and his guitar
Always in denial.
poem by Victoria Annette Bailey
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Strumming the guitar
Music fueled by passion
All come to hear it
haiku by John McClay
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The Folk Singer
His guitar hangs off of His neck
Like a tire on a rusty rim
Wooden rust, wind and dust
Rusty strings echoing a million voices
A hundred years old and underground
Dance beneath His calloused fingers.
Dance beneath the diamond sky
He is here to save us, though His knees buckle
Under the weight of His guitar
And His conscience.
He moans once,
And hollers at the facists that they are bound to lose,
All you fascists bound to lose
And then He starts strumming hard
Like it is our only salvation
And it might be.
poem by Patrick O'Reilly
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I Got the Blues for You
Pelican blues, jay walking on velvet souls
Somber and detach, mayhem
Pickering the night of pre dawn
The choir of your anger, screaming
In tune to the decaying sounds
Of the strings Silverado
Ascending in D Minor
Descending in G Major
Flavor never a waiver
Impacts……….heart raptures
“Come and sway with me, ” the voices say
“Absorb my tone, within the tone,
You’ll hear the grumble mumble”
Sudden death and numb
The rhythm retires
The blues in dire
What come next will be your desperados
Attach the strings to your yester hellos
Soulful revival
My guitar humbles
The plucking and strumming
Erode…….to your gravely swing
poem by Sulaiman Mohd Yusof
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Strumming the Guitar
When reflecting upon
Nostalgic times,
The guitar brings
Memories to mind.
Open-air concerts
Beneath starry skies
Brought lots of fun
To so many lives.
Embracing the moments
Of the day,
The guitarists faithfully
Strummed away.
Folks savored the tune
Of the joyful sounds—
Enjoying one another
E’er the world went round.
Music is spirited
And carefree.
And strumming the guitar
Does it for me.
©
**Footnote: For the guitarist.
poem by Walterrean Salley
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Aryaman's Band
Da cat, da rat, da bat
Rolling on a mat
Holding their paws together
Formed a quartet band
By appointing Aryaman, the Bard of Bombay
As their song writer
To sing praises
At all times
By writing poems on
Da cat, da rat, and da bat.
The band rocked and rolled
To the tune of Aryaman’s songs
Da cat singing in baritone
Da rat strumming strings
And da bat playing drums.
What they created
Was it music or a ruckus?
Or you might call it
A plain frightening fracas?
poem by Aryaman Naik
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In Our Loneliness
as we trek upon another high mountain
when darkness sets in
when food is scarce
when paths erase themselves
with the rain
when the rivers do not have voices anymore
for a song
when we warm ourselves around a fire
deep in the forest
you finally find time to imagine a guitar
that you once had in the city
a precious property that in here
you are not even allowed to carry
because strumming any of its strings
can become too dangerous
to please ourselves we too imagine you playing it
we too imagine ourselves singing with you
that song of freedom, of love, of a humanity
that selects only those whom they think
is fit to survive.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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