Long Guitar Poems
Long Guitar Poems. Below are the most popular long Guitar by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Guitar poems by poem length and keyword.
Oh how I do love cats.
Not rats or bats,
Spats or hats;
(although I do own a chapeau or two).
I love cats of all sizes, colors and shapes;
even though they get in a lot of scrapes.
I love calicos, tabbies, marbled too;
I really love a Persian Blue.
I love them whether they have boots or socks;
I adore all their furry frocks.
Short-haired, long-haired, cats are great;
With cats, I love to celebrate.
They bring such joy and elation;
but, when they get in an altercation,
I calm them with my guitar strings;
cats do love to hear folks sing.
They stop to listen to my songs,
but they definitely don’t like drums or gongs.
So I sing and they calm down;
quite tranquil then’s, my kitty-crowd.
She felt a little less than attractive
And a little bit radioactive
In a super hero kind of way
Everyday's an endless wave
But she can't save them all
Their pleading prayers fill the air
And echo down the hall
Sweet time, there's never enough time
Cancer's so unkind
But it can't steal the light in your eyes
He walks the corridors in pajamas
Munching medical marijuana
Brownies from the herbal bakery
A little primo curbs the chemo
Only for a while
Plays his guitar to hide the scars
While managing a smile
Sweet time, there's never enough time
Cancer's so unkind
But it can't steal the light in your eyes
Love, you take it wherever you find it
Seems there's always a story behind it
Meet Gamma Girl & Brownie Boy
Her precision x-ray vision
Sees into his heart
For her he'll fight the kryptonite
That's keeping them apart
Sweet time, there's never enough time
Cancer's so unkind
But it can't steal the light in your eyes
©2016. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
The sun has risen in my night
but I was blind to see the light
The moon have sunk in a new dawn
I dreamt too long,and it was gone....
Now i stroll over the shore
gazing above the horizon
to find a shooting star
But what's the use of shooting stars
which fade too far from where you are?
What's the use to make a wish
when you are not with me
What's the use of sprinkling spells
on once upon a memory?
What's the use for candles on the sand
If you're not here to hold my hand
What's the use of fragrant words
when autumn leaves are burnt
What's the use for hearts to beat
when worlds don't understand?
Last petal falls upon my feet
the wind blows in my hair
a melody on starry night
Hushed whisper in my ear
Soft music plays in distance
the guitar 's not there
So what's the use for symphony?
Once more I'm deaf to hear
Slowly i tiptoe to the stone wall
which stands behind the old Palm tree
Slowly I seek deeper
as a tiny shadow i see
a shadow which keeps growing
and getting close to me
Its my imagination
It must be a fantasy
In silence I walk back
to where our cabin used to be
My fingers bury footprints
which I found by the sea.
Charma
This is a fiction poem inspired by a song i was hearing called 'Love is blind' by Donny Montell
Nowadays,
people don’t
'get'
the real Blues,
they have
blue-funks.
The funks
makes a person
glare
and simmer
like a radio-active sunflower.
The Blues
don’t come at anyone
with a rabid face, or any
bad juju.
Blues songs
don’t club at you
with a baseball bat,
they won’t yell in your ear.
If you got the
Blues
you have a dog and a guitar,
even when you don't.
If you got the Blues
you have a whole range
of sad little chuckles
and each one
is another shade of blue.
Nowadays,
folks don't know
the difference from the
Blues
and the blue-funks,
in which case
Tennessee Whiskey
(or just the thought of it)
might help.
Fearless
I am not afraid of the future
The mystery it holds.
Lurking in the shadows, uncertain.
Bring with it, when it comes:
the crashing of a thousand cymbals
the roll of the drums,waves in my ears
roar of the seas, extravaganza.
The whine of the violin
the sadness,the loneliness
the despair,the tears.
The strumming of the guitar
your fingers moving
the fret of my love, humming.
Blow like the bugles
the horn in splendour!
Wake my soul ,my spirit
soar like the eagles ,nesting
the new morn, its delights.
Breathe like the flute,
my lips over you
the nights ,the fervor,
the longing ,the passion unfold.
Bring in the organ,the piano
the tempest of the waltzes
the hues, the strains
filling the spaces, unseen .
Chants like the prayers,
rending my being,
lead me, from this life to the next.
I am not afraid of the future,
the storms it creates,
neither should you .
Stay,be a rhapsody.
I
I'm sitting on a bench
Waiting for my bus
Thinking in my head
What my daddy said
Just waiting for my bus
I'm planning my next move
Waiting for my bus
Strumming my guitar
But I can't get too far
Just waiting for my bus
I'm making all this up
Waiting for my bus
Singing my own song
Not sure where I belong
Just waiting for my bus
I'm getting soaking wet
Waiting for my bus
Linking my own past
How long will it last
Just waiting for my bus
I'm sitting in the pouring rain
Waiting for my bus
Drinking my bottle of whisky
Out here, it's all a bit risky
Just waiting for my bus
I'm sitting here all alone
Waiting for my bus
I'm just waiting for my bus
Waiting for my bus
Just waiting for my bus
I'm just waiting for my bus
He worked any job sight unseen
So he could learn to fly at just fifteen
Too young for the world war going on
Just right for two more that would someday come
He flew aid to people in Berlin
Just old enough to be called a man
He flew wounded from Korea to Japan
At a time I wasn't even in the plan
Someday I’d look up to him
You couldn't miss him at six foot three
My dad was everything, he was everything to me
It was a time when war was there for all to see
But I had my dad to help shape what I’d one day be
Because… he served for me
I was young enough to miss his second war
But I’d send him tapes of me playin’ guitar
Growing up between his wars
It dawned on me how much he served and more
I looked up to him
You couldn't miss him at six foot three
My dad was everything, he was everything to me
It was a time when war was there for all to see
But I had my dad to help shape what I’d one day be
Because… he served for me
Then one day he was home to stay
And share his life with us each day
Still serving more than nine to five
I still felt blessed for his returned life
I looked up to him
You couldn't miss him at six foot three
My dad was everything, he was everything to me
It was a time when war was there for all to see
But I had my dad to help shape what I’d one day be
Because… he served for me
He saw us graduate, marry, have kids and more
But one day I got a call, I was 34
“We found dad on the floor
And he’s close to God’s door”
I didn't get to say any last words to him
But he knew I was with him at the end
Lord, I looked up to him
You couldn't miss him at six foot three
My dad was everything, he was everything to me
It was a time when war was there for all to see
But I had my dad to help shape what I’d one day be
Because… he served for me
He served for me…
He served for me…
I realize this may seem like I am placing him, the subject of my piece on a pedastool. As we know people and art are not always perfect. Perhaps sometimes the faults can be the beauteous things. I just cannot seem to stop trying to appreciate every inch that is this man. There is nothing offset about his grin.
5)Visit the guitar hall of Fame, peruse the artifacts of Rock and Roll knowing that this is the source of his inspiration. Lay on the floor, try to absorb the excitement of artists like he before. Run your hand over Led Zeppelin's ancient guitar. Feel the cool strings, run over your virgin fingertips unknown to calluses. Remember the enticing time he played with his acoustic guitar. His strong upper core, moving so magnificiently to produce such an euphoric musical score. That is the same hands that so beautiful danced you across the beach sandwood floor.
6) Now...... with all these memories. Paint him the most vividly. You can do it, without the power of your eyes to see. Show the world his perfect symmetry. It is difficult to paint in his compassionate sensitivity. There is no proper paintbrush created for properly etching in his witty hilarity. I know that the world, will clearly see. He is the type of man, that needs no words and is just truthful actions.
7) Find a translucent piece of rice paper. Write down all the wonderful things he will say for her.
8)Tell women... this is the type of man you should look for.
Form:
His small red car, a dent on the left rear side,
is parked in our driveway, all loaded, a full tank of gas.
His duffel is crammed with rock-band t-shirts, faded torn jeans,
new underwear and socks, (that I insisted we buy),
and that ratty old jacket with the hole in the elbow.
Guitar, books, sports equipment, and cardboard boxes
filling the back seat of his little sedan.
On the passenger seat in front,
is a battered old shoe box tied with string.
Those are private letters from girlfriend, Cindy.
Oh yes!...The same box, that his sister found one day,
which she tucked under her arm and ran from him laughing.
His long legs chased her through the house, screaming, ...
"You're going to die for that!!!!"
But...that was on another fall day.... A day that now seems forever ago....
While today was silently sleeping...
On this sunny, autumn day, his sister is quiet, she is not laughing.
He and his father share a hug and an affectionate pat on the back.
I stand back, watching them, on that dreaded, concrete driveway.
The trees rustle, and someone's lawnmower is humming
A neighbor is driving by, as if it's just another ordinary day.
I give him the care box I made...laundry soap, toothpaste,
candy, energy bars, his favorite home made oatmeal cookies.
Hugs, extra tight. One more, and then another.....
(Hold it in!....Hold it in!....I can do this!....)
"Be sure to call when you get there. Drive carefully. Love you."
Love you
__________________________________________
Goodbye Contest: Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
She stood all alone in the spotlight
Just a girl and her guitar
Though she was only the warm up act
She deserved to be the star
She stood there and played and sang
With a voice so pure and clear
Songs of love and songs of loss
Sweet music to my ear
Some of her songs were ages old
But she made them seem quite new
Her voice and her music filled the room
The notes just soared and flew
Some songs she sang made us laugh
Some brought a tear to the eye
Some made us want to sing along
Some just made us sigh
She sang us gentle songs of love
Songs of peace and war
She held us all right through to the end
Then we all yelled for more
She may have been just starting out
But I think that she'll go far
I will always remember her
Just a girl and a guitar