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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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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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! !
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
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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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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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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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Tommy Carty The Musician
Tommy Carty the musician a marvel of guitar
From his Homecity of Dublin he is living far
In South West Victoria in the City Of Warrnambool
One honoured as a Legend of the Koroit Lake School.
Not into self promotion of such he seems shy
But true talent of him one could never deny
His music says more of him than words can say
One of the best living guitarists of today.
In a Human World of self promotion and so much self conceit
One as humble as he is such a pleasure to meet
Yet when it comes to playing of guitar few with him to compare
The Tommy Cartys of this World to say the least rare.
Amongst the musicians of South West Victoria one famed and well known
One might say of him in a class of his own
So self effacing and down to earth in his own humble way
The masterful guitarist he just loves to play.
In South West Victoria a legendary name
Yet his is far greater than a local fame
The high standard of guitar playing he sets for himself he does attain
And Dublin's loss is surely Warrnambool's gain.
poem by Francis Duggan
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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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Electric Guitar
Electric guitar gets run over by a car on the highway
This is a crime against the state
This is the meaning of life.
To tune this electric guitar
An electric guitar is brought in to a court of law
The judge and the jury (twelve members of the jury)
All listening to records
This is a crime against the state
This is the verdict they reach:
Never listen to electric guitar
Electric guitar is copies, the copy sounds better
Call this the law of justice, call this freedom and liberty
I thought I perjure myself, right infront of the jury!
Is this a crime against the state? no!
This is the verdict they reach:
Someone controls electric guitar.
song performed by by Talking Heads
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
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Rocking With My Guitar
I'M JUST SITING HERE STRUMMING
WITH MY GUITAR IN HAND
FEELING SO RELAX
WITH EVERY CHORD I TOUCH MAN
AND ROCKING AWAY
FROM WHAT THE GREAT ONES WROTE
BY FOLLOWING EACH MUSIC NOTE
AND PICTURING ME IN THERE BAND
ASK TO DO A SOLO ON MY GUITAR
AND FEELING LIKE A BRIEF SUPER STAR
IF FRONT OF THE CROWD
CHEERING AND JEERING FOR ME
WHEN I JUMP IN THE AIR
WITH MY GUITAR IN HAND
READY TO DO ANOTHER CLASSIC SONG
AND STILL THERE SCREAMING
CLAPPING ALONG
UNTIL I COME BACK TO EARTH
PUTTING MY GUITAR GENTLY IN IT'S STAND
NEXT TO MY READING LIGHT
AND QUIETLY CALL IT A RIGHT
poem by Bruce Martone
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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
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When I began, the guitar was en-closed in a vicious circle. There were no composers writing for the guitar, be-cause there were no virtuoso guitarists.
quote by Andres Segovia
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Memory of Tikling Island
On a mystical night,
In the Island of Tikling,
He strummed his guitar,
And sung his lullaby.
His voice magical carried by,
The summer wind.
As I lay in my cozy bed,
He strummed his guitar once more,
While the other poured fermented drink.
I like a bird,
With a broken wing,
A traveler,
Lay in silence,
Listening to his lullaby,
Until my tired eyes,
Hushed me to sleep.
poem by Tess Rockenstire
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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 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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Katy Brought My Guitar Back Today
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I left it there to play, when I'd stay over.
And I remember all those nights
Sitting in the fireplace light,
And how she loved to hear me play;
Katy brought my guitar back today.
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I've seen it make her cry, over and over.
She told me when I wasn't there,
And she would wake up feelin' scared,
She'd hold it in her arms and be okay;
Katy brought my guitar back today.
We had our stormy times like anybody else;
Oh, more than once I broke her heart.
And when I couldn't tell her I was sorry by myself;
I could tell her with an old guitar.
But, I'm afraid this time things have gone too far.
Katy brought my guitar back today.
I guess that means this time it's really over.
And as I sit and play it now,
The songs all seem so sad, somehow,
I wish that I'd of left it in the case
Katy brought my guitar back today.
And I remember all those nights
Sitting in the fireplace light,
And how she loved to hear me play;
Katy brought my guitar back today...
song performed by by Alabama
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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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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Allegra's Guitar
Allegra strummed her guitar softly
Each chord gently rolls off her fingers
Sweet no-thingness blissed thy ears
La musica drifted lightly ever more
She hummed gingerly along with the tune
No words were spoken, as she played
Closing her eyes she felt the kiss
Such naturalness flowing inside
Endorphins swirling in the limelight
Surpasseth an understanding of most
A love so divine money cannot buy
Much too many songs for her to express
Truly rejuevenating the souls quest
Her heart speaks a language not all may hear
You, me, the trees - Her audience is vast
A marriage made in heaven few know
Oh, such freedom; the seed now sown
Beautiful peace fulfills the spirit
A land of plenty; happiness shines here
Allegra continues strumming her guitar
Yes, dear
poem by Hope Hills
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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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