Sad Guitar Poems

There once was a piano that wanted to be
Anything other than of white, black keys
She loved her parents and her fabulous family
But she lacked love...

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It's the beginning of colorful Fall,
many chilly days are expected ahead;
tall pine trees don't heed the call,
they are green and warmly dressed!

Their slender images draw...

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arthritic hands search the fretboard
finding chords that hurt the least
the old guitar brings a toothless grin
then we sneak a sip of whiskey...

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I’m too old to live out these songs I sing.
There has been too much pumped into these veins.
But if you remember how I was back...

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One might call it a 'guitar',
But, sadly, I have to call it my wooden casket with strings,
No offence to the instrument,
Its not that bad of...

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Every day the man would 
Sit on the cold concrete in
The midst of a bustling city, weathered
Hands strumming a wooden guitar and
Watery blue eyes full...

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I no longer listen to certain songs that remind me of you
If I do my brain becomes like white grapes in a wine press
the juice...

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There's little or nothing to do,
it's a February rainy day,
Danny molds Batman out of brown clay;
snow is melting after Saturday's blizzard...
I spot a hopping lizard
chase...

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There's little or nothing to do,
it's a February rainy day,
Danny molds Batman out of brown clay;
snow is melting after Saturday's blizzard...
I spot a hopping lizard
chase...

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Like a guitar you play my heart
Dictating every note every pause
Do you know women so well or just me
I rather feel like a blue imbecile
You...

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It was just a broken stringed guitar
covered in dust and the wood bearing scars.
Long forgotten it lay in the run-down old bar.
Then one sultry day...

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I heaved a sigh… 
                     ...

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He left her standing there
In the hallway of despair,
No care nor emotion shared
Just a blank cold stare.

She shrank with icy fingers
Barely holding his guitar,
No time...

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Sad guitar not played by anyone,
let me strike your dormant strings
and bring life where there was none;
where's that boy with plump cheeks
and auburn hair who...

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When will she learn to play, to rise the spirits?
Ancestral spirits yearn for the old glories -
Where forth the strength occupies vacuum;
Despair filled it well!

Let's...

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