Jillian Veitenheimer Poet Free verse

Strummed

Resting upon my lap 
Your thick body 
Sits perfectly upon my knee 
  
My left hand 
Gripping your neck gingerly 
Delicately in my palm 
  
Beautifully dark 
Is your fret board 
Polished to reflection 
  
Ivory colored 
Are your machine heads 
Which twist smoothly 
  
Giving guidance 
Direct your inlays 
Whispering hints 
  
So defined 
Is your cherry back 
Resting on my breasts 
  
How your strings hum 
Echoing through 
My caressed fingers 
  
Each note 
Melodious to my heart 
Graceful til the end 
  
Oh the glory 
That is felt 
Each second 
  
Your beautiful voice 
My talent strums 
My wondrous guitar.

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Daver Austin January 20, 2014 at 3:29 PM I can relate. The instrument become an object of love. Congrats. daver

Poet Destroyer A June 14, 2012 at 6:28 PM Jillian.,,,Hello, ;-) This sure has a glorious feeling, thank you for sharing* Take care~ Always..PD.

Mad Hu June 13, 2012 at 10:54 PM It has been beautifully written.Descriptn is amazing

Justcallme Britt June 13, 2012 at 10:45 PM I love poems like these. lol I just kept saying, "Oh, yea. She's a lesbian"! Doesn't matter if you are. I was just saying. I love music too. I was a low brass instrument player of six years and then I moved to a school with no band :( Continue with your writing, Jillian <3