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Poem

The guitarist
As I wallow In songs
Of freedom 
I feel the power of love
From the soul with
Words of peace keep
Running down 
my third eye 
to my long
Fingers
As I write with a blue pen
The poems of nature
That come from a new birth

The guitarist
The sound from the strings
The sound so tender
Like a morning songs
From the birds
The sound of the 
Guitar man do always melt
Depression from my soul
Play me the tone
With the strings 
And let me dance like 
The trees of life

The guitarist 
I love the guitar
I love a guitarist 
I love the strings
I love the melody
From a good guitarist 
In places I hear tones
From deferent guitarist's
I love the deferent melody
From places I go

The  guitarist
I meet one homeless
Guitarist by the side
Of the street as usual
Where people just pass
Him by as nothing 
But when ever I saw him 
He always have a good 
Melody but he is homeless
Yet was a guitarist

The guitarist 
He plays sounds that attracts 
People to stop and pay attention
As they drop coins on his 
Plate
This man touches my soul
With his melody
His appearance looks dirty
But the melody from his
Guitar sounds so beautiful
Yet he was homeless
But he is a great guitarist 

The guitarist 
The value of a man
Is not judge by his 
Appearance or status
At a moment of time
Just like 
The guitarist

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