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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Related quotes
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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The Guitar Lady
The guitar lady
Is a beautiful women
And I love the way she plays
That guitar
Her fingers move so fast
And so precisely
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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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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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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The Folk Man
The folk man makes beautiful music everyday when
He plays the guitar in the streets and he gets $ 90.00/ day for his Singing
And the money is given to him by the strangers that are walking on the Sidewalk where he plays his guitar
And the strangers that walk in the sidewalk goes crazy for his music
His music leaves people breathless
And the folk man got the gift of music from God
poem by Aldo Kraas
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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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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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This Is How I Let Go
Guitar in hand
It plays my heart's tunes
As here, in my bathroom, I stand
Eyes closed
All emotion flowing from my heart into my hand
Then out of my guitar's notes
Here I stand
All emotion flowing
Lost and confused
My hurt is now showing
I say, 'let it show'
And continue to write and play my guitar
Out, my hurt does flow
Onto the paper and from the guitar
This is how I let my hurt go
And soon by what people read
They will know
This is how I let it go
poem by Amy Parkinson
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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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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
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My Own Fairytale
my fairytale is beautiful it is the only thing that is my own
there are trees and wild flowers with little fairies
there are love bugs and butterflies
i sit on a log and play my guitar and sing beautiful songs
the fairies gather around to hear the beautiful noise
but my fairytale is dead now and has no color
only because my heart is broken and i broke a string on my guitar
and i sit on this log weeping and waiting for someone
to restring my guitar and to repair my heart
as if that will ever happen........................................... ...........................! ? !
poem by Breanna Wilson
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Mr. Jones
I was down at the New Amsterdam staring at this yellow-haired girl
Mr. Jones srikes up a coversation with this black-haired flamenco dancer
She dances while his father plays guitar
She's suddenly beautiful
We all want something beautiful
I wish I was beautiful
So come dance this silence down through the morning
Cut up
song performed by by Counting Crows from August And Everything After
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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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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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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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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Learning To Live Alone And Be Happy
in my little Bisayan town
the guitar strings are loose
and the sound
becomes musically challenged
i will be having a hard time
with my lyrics
and choice of pitch
because of this faulty guitar
and this
hardheaded guitarman
one day i decided to sing alone
less the guitar
and the guitarist
and then i learned to live
and sing
without so much fuss
without
any need for a guitar
or any accompaniment
surprisingly
i can sing alone and yet
still be in tune
without things
without so many people
yes, it is this solitude
and the rest becomes mere surplusage
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ode To Eric Clapton
Hear Eric Clapton's got the blues
did he pay his dues
have you heard the news
hear Eric Clapton's got the blues.
Nicknamed old slow hand in band
Eric is the master blues guitar hand
always with his back against the wall
yet Eric Clapton stands noble and tall.
Started out over thirty years ago
his guitar style developed blues flow
an second only too late Jimi Hendrix
Eric played with heavy cream mix.
Through the high times and the bad
sometimes feeling crazy and mad
battling wild destructive stardom scene
taking trips both right and wrong dream.
Road to excess leads to wisdom song
although the road is often long
I'm quoting Eric's favourite line
these words that spring to mine.
Having self confessed addictive personality
is Eric's dark blues self analysis key
but today Eric lets his guitar talk
all the way from London to New York.
Doing the prince charity time trust
each and every year is indeed a must
playing regularly London's Albert Hall
Eric stands tall and isn't about to fall.
Admired by every guitar slinger around
Eric's guitar creates the blues sound
with master blues ace calling card
Eric Clapton plays honest and hard.
And the blues is always played real
let's you have honest emotion to feel
singing about love affairs of the heart
blows all our false pretense apart.
Nineties Eric wears his blues mantle proud
playing his guitar notes inspired and loud
with both subtle and heavy born emotion
laying down blues flavour stylish devotion.
Yes Eric Clapton's got the blues
did you pay your dues
whose gonna break the news
yes Eric Clapton's got the blues.
poem by Wayne Falconer
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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
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