With guitar in hand he starts to play
the melody in his head.
Each finger, like precision instruments,
knows its part in the song.
Faster and faster! the fretboard's like ice
as the fingers are lightning quick.
The pick knows, by the hand's mind,
each string and when to play.
He makes the sounds from his guitar
as only he can make.
The melody flows from within his soul
as he's transported to a land far away.
Nice work, playing an instrument can make you forget about time and space...its a wonderful feeling.
Reviewed by Kelley Frost (Reader)
Reviewed on December 22, 2007
I liked this Margena ! And I knew a lot of other people would too just because it had the word Guitarist in it (smile) Anyway Great write!!! Thanks for sharing.
Kelley Frost
Nice! I played in over 33 professional bands in my twenties and thirties. Guitar, voice, and primary writer.
"Those were the days my friend we thought would never end!"
Thanks
Richard
Lovely, Margena! I've always wanted to play guitar, this piece aches me that I haven't. I knew a guitar player, in my youth, and he was just like this... :)
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
Share
Print
Save
Follow
Kelley Frost
"Those were the days my friend we thought would never end!"
Thanks
Richard
Thanks for sharing.
Officer William Heffner
Warm Love
*Brittany Renee*
~Nikki~