A Musical Identity Crisis
It was a fine guitar.
My dearest possession.
The tool to escape my life,
The life without any prominence or distinction;
The life, a mere proof of an existing biological function.
The only sense was from the music I understood.
The sounds created by those strings over the wood.
The notes would drown me to that world of imagination.
This was all I had for a fascination.
But it was not long that I lost my only passion.
The afternoon still survives in my memory,
The door bangs open, my uncle standing with a face
That gave away his fury,
His red eyes, the smell of his presence
Corroborated our doubts of his untimely alcoholic indulgence.
My mother screamed out Vociferous,
But the guitar did not stop.
I still don’t know-
If the attempt was prosperous
Or the musical protest was a flop?
The reek came closer,
The fingers played louder and faster.
The dipsomaniac spoke-
My price was settled by the dealer.
Enough to meet the addict’s expenditure.
The Music stopped for the last time.
The guitar was snatched and there ended
The play of notes, so sublime.
My mother would not let me go.
The dirty hands pushed her on the floor.
The sight made the anger in me grow
The addict had to be thrown out of the door.
He walked to my mother and kicked her to cry.
I lifted my guitar to give it a different try.
The guitar played a sound again
But this time it was for no musical gain.
The smash to his head made him fall on my feet.
The blood on the floor did not make me feel guilty any bit.
The Music had ended long back,
Now me and my guitar searched the identity rack.
It was not a weapon to kill,
But an instrument to feel.
And I was teased by everybody as Dumb Bill.
But not a boy of murderous skill.
poem by Saptarshi Banerjee
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Guitar And Pen
You're alone above the street somewhere
Wondering how you'll ever count out there
You can walk, you can talk, you can fight
But inside you've got something to write
In your hand you hold your only pen
Never spend your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
Your guitar or your pen
When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up
When you're kicking the fence and still nothing will budge
When the words are immobile until you sit down
Never feel they're worth keeping, they're not easily found
Then you know in some strange unexplainable way
You must really have something
Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away
Important to say
When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream
And you swear and you curse cos the rhyming ain't clean
But it suddenly comes after years of delay
You pick up your guitar and you can suddenly play
When your fingers are bleeding and your knuckles are white
Then you can be sure, you can open the door
Get up of the floor tonight
You have something to write
When you wanna complain there's no one can stop you
But when your music proclaims there's no one can top you
You are wearing your heart on your jumping feet
You've got a head start away from the street
But is that what you want, to be rich and be gone
Could be there's just one thing left in the end
Your guitar and your pen
When you sing to your Mum and you hum and you croon
And she says that she'd like it with more of a tune
And you smash your guitar at the end of the bed
Then you stick it together and start writing again
And you know that it won't be too long till your back -
song performed by by Who
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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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! !
This Ol' Guitar
This ol' guitar
has been my best friend
through thick and thin
It has held all my thoughts
spoken them through melody
words whispered from my heart
And at times
this ol' guitar
has even held tears at bay
Stopped my world from falling apart
it even has kept
this ol' heart from breaking in two
Yes, this ol' guitar
has served these aging hands
of mine so well
This ol' guitar
it has created music
that screamed out to be heard
This ol' guitar
has been my best friend
through thick and thin....
poem by Daniel Wittfoth
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Fate of a Musician
Every day I pick up my guitar and just play
I write my own songs with the help of friends
We design music and lyrics we start new trends
Acoustic guitar, electric guitar or 12 strings
These instruments have played my songs and I have grown wings
Soaring and flying watching my creations grow
As the music expands the lyrics just flow
The more I create the more passionate I become
The more I play the more fun we have
Music gives me something to do
Each song I write I will be sure to see through
When I am up on stage standing in the spotlight
I spread my wings, start playing, and take flight!
When the crowd cheers you get a feeling of inspiration
After the gig you’re sitting home alone
You pull out your guitar stick in the headphones
You start strumming, creating your own beat
You sit there all night tapping your feet
The history of music and the sound you create
Brings friends closer together I reckon its more then fate.
Benjamin A. Green
poem by Benjamin Andrew
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Guitar Man
They call me the guitar man.
Cause I can really bend those strings.
I no longer play in a band,
But I can make my guitar sing.
There ain't nothing I can't play,
I carry music in my soul.
I play better than yesterday,
I can play some solid gold.
My acoustic Alvarez,
Can either sing or cry.
I thank the Lord, that he has blessed,
My guitar and me from on high.
If you're ever down in Texas,
Come and see this guitar man.
I don't look at all like Elvis,
But I do the best I can.
Ask around and you will see.
That I am not so hard to find.
If you hear music, thats where I'll be,
So come on down, if your'e inclined.
9/5/10 Alton Texas
poem by Juan Olivarez
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Me And My Guitar
Me and my guitar
Always in the same mood
I am mostly flesh and bones
And he is mostly wood
Never does grow impatient
For the changes I don't know, no
If he can't go to heaven
Maybe, I don't want to go, Lord
Picture me in the key of E
Call me Uncle John
Any fool can easily see
That we go back a long time
Feel something like fine to me
There's no such thing as the wrong time
He hops up on my knee
Singing, get down pops
It's song time
Every now and then I'm a lonely man
It's nice to know that I've got a friend
Puts his power right in my hand
All l've got to do is the best I can
If I can
Got a dog named David
Got a bird named Dinah
Got a birthmark on my thigh
In the shape of Mainland China
Got a somewhat southern accent
'Cause I come from Carolina
And if you want to find us
We'll be walking right behind you
I hear horns
I hear voices
I hear strings
Seems I was born
With too many choices
Now what am I going to do
With all these extra things
As they serve to confuse me, really
It's me and my guitar
Essentially me and my guitar
Oh maybe a few friends fall by for tea
A little bit of who do you love
But pay no attention
To the man behind the curtain
It's me and my guitar
Having fun, boogie, woogie, uh-huh
Me and my guitar
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Me & My Guitar
Me and my guitar
Always in the same mood
I am mostly flesh and bones
And he is mostly wood
Never does grow impatient
For the changes I dont know, no
If he cant go to heaven
Maybe, I dont want to go, lord
Picture me in the key of e
Call me uncle john
Any fool can easily see
That we go back a long time
Feel something like fine to me
Theres no such thing as the wrong time
He hops up on my knee
Singing, get down pops
Its song time
Every now and then Im a lonely man
Its nice to know that Ive got a friend
Puts his power right in my hand
All lve got to do is the best I can
If I can
Got a dog named david
Got a bird named dinah
Got a birthmark on my thigh
In the shape of mainland china
Got a somewhat southern accent
cause I come from carolina
And if you want to find us
Well be walking right behind you
I hear horns
I hear voices
I hear strings
Seems I was born
With too many choices
Now what am I going to do
With all these extra things
As they serve to confuse me, really
Its me and my guitar
Essentially me and my guitar
Oh maybe a few friends fall by for tea
A little bit of who do you love
But pay no attention
To the man behind the curtain
Its me and my guitar
Having fun, boogie, woogie, uh-huh
Me and my guitar
song performed by by James Taylor
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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As long as its music
Please play me a symphony
Make a simple cheerful harmony
Please play me a chord from a guitar
For me, it does not matter
If I’m the only audience of your theatre
Give me some instrumental vibes
All rhythms and tunes are musically ripe
There is no need to take precaution
While playing the Banjo or flamenco percussion
As long as its music
We can all heal
As long as its music
We can all feel
We can sing out our hearts and soul
We can let this music take control
Please play me the drums
We can sing or we can hum
Please play me a CD or a hit record
We could sing to the tunes of an ipod
With the sounds of music we can compose a song
Maybe sing to the town’s bells chiming ding-dong
Please play me the sweet keys of a piano
Hit a sweet note that is a major or minor
As long as its music
We can all heal or cry
As long as its music
We can all feel or fly high
And I will be lost in your voice and eyes
Holding on to each minute that flies
Whatever sounds or instruments
I shall feel good in the moment
Please play me a note from a flute
Those peaceful sounds tend to soothe
I want to hear sweet, sweet music
Choose your lyrics, take your pick
My heart will dance, till she is weak
Get out that guitar, acoustic or electric
Please play me the violins of an orchestra night
String me some melodies in broad daylight
And we can rap to melodious sense or crap
While our feet’s playfully tap, tap and tap
As long as its music
We can dance along the shore
As long as its music
We can all take to the dance floor
And I say once more, once more!
As long as its music, I will only ask for more
poem by Sylvia Chidi
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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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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Look at us...
These signs of silence,
Are the reasons of urn absence.....
Yearning for your embrace,
And feel your sweet grace,
Resting by the fireplace..........
Look at us, where we are,
So grown, and bizarre…
Look at us, what we are,
Like the strings of a musical guitar...
We’re in love, we're determined,
to our love, life and so defined...
Sun is shining in the sky,
You're arms, that's where I’m gon' die...
Our love is so clean,
Unusual, nobody has seen,
I’m gon'nestle it & make it endlessly green....
Look at us, where we are,
So grown, and bizarre…
Look at us, what we are,
Like the strings of a musical guitar...
We’re in love, we're determined,
to our love, life and so defined...
You belong to me,
No matter where, we'll be...
You are always mine,
My love, my sunshine.....
Look at us, where we are,
So grown, and bizarre…
Look at us, what we are,
Like the strings of a musical guitar...
We’re in love, we're determined,
to our love, life and so defined...
poem by Neha Aradhye
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.
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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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