Long Guitarists Poems

Every one of my five brothers
and I strive to create harmony.
Our lives are lived in parallel
yet at times we work alone.
Other times we play well together -
unity and coexistence is our goal.

A chord can bring...

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Doing is knowing,
The sound of music permeates my being,
My flesh longs to dance with the Ravens that speak of freedom,
Maya spoke of the caged bird,
But I say to all birds Fly! to the rhythm of...

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The concept of a top ten, is a wonderful choice
For Joe Flach's contest, your words become your voice
Typically for me, music comes first
Below are my ten, please read and rejoice

In alphabetical order, these ten you...

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A rock and blues guitarist and lyricist and singer,
Whose harmonic music and songs, in environs, linger;
One of the hundred guitarists of all times and seasons,
Clapton's musical art surpasses all human reasons...! 

'Yardbirds', 'John Mayall &...

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Ethan was determined to be the best,
to put to shame all other guitarists,
to rock the world in tight, leather pants,
touring like a God across the land.
So at thirteen years he learned three chords,
didn’t think he’d...

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There was I in my early twenties
sitting bored on a Sunday afternoon
mu mum suggested, get a hobby
but being a loner was well out of tune

My mind was blank till mum said
learn guitar, my son, well...

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He was born on a cotton plantation in Itta Bena, Mississippi.
Among rhythm and blues guitarists, he was the best there could be.
Riley B. King came into the world in 1925.
Entertaining as an R & B...

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At dawn stood a maiden quite fair
Crown adorned with Apollo's hair
Bright sunshine

Golden rays paint black silhouettes
While guitarists caress their frets
At sunset

She's trapped herself in these towers
Heart wading in yellow flowers
Sunshowers

Dance across cerulean blue
These orbs oft...

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We're nearing the end of another year
But this one feels different than before
As we mourn our heroines and hero's
Hearts of family and friends are sore

There's Eddy, Pete and Peter Green
They're guitarists in their own way
Lost...

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I sit, from Canal to 209 and back
watching the doors open and close.
I see glimpses of Times Square's neon lights, West 4th's man-made green, Columbus Circle's arrows to the park
as the doors open and close.
I...

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I tell you my secrets through the hums
Of buzzing, stringed bees
The rumblings of my thumb
I pretend to play it all with ease

My memories seem to wane
But my fingers know their place
A screech, a murmur, a...

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