My Guitar

My Guitar weeps And not so gently It strings together broken tears It has seen my feeble attempts at love My Guitar laughs As I try to serenade A song that lovers play It strings together broken romances My guitar sleeps For I am not doing to well In charming your heart My guitar is bored My guitar kills me And steals my girl They were meant to be it seems They joined chords and sang The funeral was brief The music was good Guitar music after all Now they travel onwards Musical journeys With not a thought of me With no guitar As the ghost of me weeps

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Robin Davis

Date: 4/21/2014 10:48:00 PM

Arthur Such a clever and creative write. I like how you went through different emotional stages. Thank you for the awesome and flattering comment on my Graveyard poem.

Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Date: 10/14/2013 11:06:00 AM

Love it :) Thks for commenting on my poetry :)

Jamesp Kail

Date: 10/7/2013 10:07:00 PM

My guitar is stained by tears and blood . Like a fine patina

Richard Lamoureux

Date: 9/24/2013 8:29:00 AM

Brilliant! You are so creative, this one goes to my favorites! 77777777

Alfreda Williamson

Date: 9/22/2013 7:55:00 PM

Arthur, your poem is cute, I loved it. As for mine, you know the title is a play on Marie Antionette's remark in regards to the poor in the streets finding food. It's about that bad here, the rich getting richer and politicians more concerned for them than for the people and for the most part neither caring about the poor and hurting. Otherwise, glad you liked it.

Anne-Lise Andresen

Date: 9/22/2013 11:33:00 AM

- Buy new .... do not forget the beautiful songs ... nice poem, Arthur !!! - oxox // Anne-Lise :)