Sonnet Guitar Poems

Spider webs woven into that guitar,
soft music will echo and hang around;
The audience an unsuspecting fly 
tries to wiggle held tight by a grimoire;
Souls become...

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The vibes and people are completely stacked; 
  ‘Adoration is hard to understand. 
The way they love me? So very bizarre.’ 
Hit me then...

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It’s been a long time since they’re rock-and-rolled,
but the music still remains what is was,
a broken levee of thunder and sound
so vital that it defies...

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They may say you are playing to the crowd
trying to maximize all of those tips;
That well could be the actuality
as you come down and mellow...

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Oh! Guitar, what sweet music flows from you!
How your melodic strains, my mind subdue
With the touch of my dexterous fingers
Melody streams, my spirit it triggers

Each...

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I can hear the crowd clapping as you strum, 
transfixed you open another portal; 
With each note becoming more overcome 
easily you take a piece...

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what is n alto
said the unknowing soprano
to the unsurpecting tentor
who are the Alto's
whats a Bass
does it have a face
do Basses smile
and stay round a while
who...

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she wore the sonnet as clothes
and was naked to all that saw her
she spoke in perfect diction
and pranced around to have all
who wish her well...

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eased away 
the doubt
and allowed
 me to love

it's the only reason
and it's us I'm speaking of
I say these most
 meaningful words

I love and that's 
the...

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lovers of night
groove lovers
sing and to
the song
Lovers of night
Lovers of music
they really know whats
going on
Lovers of Night
Night players
reherst and play their songs
lovers of night
the singers
sing...

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Sing me to sleep this night dear Rosalie.
For I do like to listen close to you.
Strum thy soft guitar gently sweet for me
and play an...

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Arsenals of axes brought by the crate
Pedals increasing experimental
Trashy dissections of raw cityscapes
NYC rockers gone transcendental
 
Static blasts shredding the off-key high pings
Maracas hit toms...

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I'm not really alone. This is my voice,
The one that sings, and you are my guitar.
A mute, without my music, not by choice.
Crippled tongue shyness,...

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As though someone has thrown away a dark net
and the town has become a trout in the net;
as though no morning has ever approached here,
the...

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