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When tears threat to come,
I pick up my guitar and start to
s t r u m .

And every chord has great meaning to me,
A minor, C sharp, G major, B.

I play those strings,
and they play me;
and clean.

I hug it's body and my fingers dance;
I play as if it's my last chance.

I hug it tighter and close my eyes.
It's a heaven;
a blessing in disguise.

It may be dead
but it's so alive,
it invigorates me and
makes me survive.

Six strings on my guitar,
bringing me

so close

and yet

so far.

The relationship between me and my guitar.
I'm serious; if it weren't for my guitar(or any of my other instruments) at times, I bet I wouldn't be here today.
Music has true power.

I'm still thinking of a good title, so please let me know if you have any! :)
Leiah Jul 24
I got my first guitar when I was 10 years old.
It was a navy blue Ibanez from guitar center.
It was used and when I played it
It sounded like a shriek more than anything of music, but it was mine.
I’ll never forget the first time I sat in a soundproofed room at that music school
With Jimi Hendrix posters on the wall, playing the riff of “Satisfaction" by The Rolling Stones completely off beat
and thinking to myself that I had found magic.
Back then, metal strings still made my fingers bleed
and I used to forget song formats and my rhythm was horrible no matter how often I used a metronome.

My second guitar was a matte black Jackson with a sharp headstock.
I drew flowers on it with a white sharpie and took out springs in the back
Which made the bridge float until it was almost unplayable.
But I didn’t notice and I didn’t care because it was mine and
I still played with my eyes closed and sang off key
I used to scream the lyrics to Green Day songs and I felt like I knew who I was
I used to be unafraid and though
Posters on the walls were replaced, white walls were painted dark gray somehow that school still felt like home
With music blaring through practice rooms

I think I’m always going to miss the sound of music
Not professional, produced
Not crisp and clean, but raw music played by teenagers who could eat 6 boxes of pizza in 20 minutes.
I remember walking in the rain to the CVS across the street
Joking and laughing
I remember growing up with friends that became a family

My third guitar was a Fender Stratocaster, sea foam green.
I bought it used and the fretboard is chipped but its mine.
Now my hair is its natural, bleak dark brown and I prefer indie to hard rock but I am still me.
And I don’t think I’ll ever become the musician I once wanted to be
But I know that music is seared into my soul
And that’s the only thing that hasn’t changed.
ALesiach Jul 22
Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

I fell in love with your words,
Grew addicted to your rhythm.
The sorrow in your burning chords,
Drew me in with them.

I felt your music flow through me
Getting lost, carried away
In your songs, in your dreams
As I listened to you play

Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

Music man, Music man
Your loving guitar in hand
Your music was my downfall
Taking my heart, taking my all

ALesiach © 07/23/2017
MicMag Jul 22
When I feel myself
Beginning to fret
When fear or depression
String me along
The best way to stop it
To jam up the angst
Is to set loose the hands
To break into song

Take note of my thoughts
Tune into my feelings
Pick out a rhythm
And let it ring true
I try but can't quite
Put my finger on why
But my hands 'round this neck
Sure cast out the blues
Ormond Jun 26
In the corner stands
My blue guitar,
Mirrors my grimace.

I have played you
So like dream was the dear song
Where you playing me?

Your body makes mine
Shudder as I imagine
A woman in my arms.

At the top of your body
Are keys unwound at the ready,
Silver spirals of tunings.

My soul is near hollow
But the blue guitar
Is filling in the foundations.

What makes the blue guitar
So shining in the mundane,
All the world is makeshift.

My fingers wet with you,
What water sounds like,
As it kisses the earth.

Deep in the strings
I summon my being,
Always blue as sheer sky.

Blue guitar, silent, singing,
My fingers ***** your neck,
Never do you scream.

Once I heard music,
The sweetest tabulations
Of sorrows in rosewood.

My fingers ache on steel,
These are your moved guts,
Strings that I borrow.

At an open window,
All the day obtuse,
I hear birds in your vibrations,
Untouched air of blue guitar.

I do not know anything,
Music is lathed on an open fret,
The heart is beating to a note of bliss,
Hole set in the body braced by wood,
Time cuts as it is sectioned, a staff fires,
All the chords are listed in primes,
Is the ear a window or is the eye,
Blind in the choral songs we make,
All things are ephemeral, wonderings,
Variations we work as structure fades,
As the blue guitar is touched, turning light.
Enia May 9
Mindlessly strumming
Two unmet lines pit-a-pat
my wandering mind
Curl a finger flick a string
Small vibration made it scream
Maria Etre May 8
You strummed my chords
and played the song of lust
my body complied
controlled my being
moans and such
you held me yesterday
stretched me
cupped my neck
rested your fingers
on my lips
you strummed
and slid the rest
up and down my frets
I feared no more
my body jolted
with the thunder outside
as he strummed my delicate lips
down there
tears wet his fingers
it wasn't the song of lust
no more
it was different
he was clueless
that tonight
he was playing
the blues
Emma Wingh May 2
Ur ******* crazy
Because your young and I can see the adventure in ur eyes
You don’t do nothin on weekends
Still most confident and withdrawing
Rather ride around on the beach by the water where you live
Than hang out with me, us

I guess I should’ve thought of that before I fell for you hard
Bout how you prefer your lonesome
Let me in
Before I found out how many miles an hour your moped can go
I should probably’ve done something
Need to stop idolizing you

Read me
Take my foot and drag it against your leg
Own me, why do I predict
I’ll be too needy
You’ll take distance and cancel
You’ll cancel and fall in passion with your own mind and soul

Look down at the ground
Bend your endless back
Show me those eyes with your amazingly hopeful smile
Bend up again and talk a bit slurry
Dark dark tones, tender
Let me combine your guitar strings with my aching desire

Aching aching
Desperate for adventure
And all the other ones sit quiet and awkward looking into complete and pure nite
Me and them have already shared our ideas
Empty empty and desperate for action
For love, wondering if this is all we’ll ever be

Put me on to your black motorcycle and never stop
Grab my thighs while I’m behind you to ’assure’,
I’m stuck to you and I won’t fall of
Only if a double decker bus crashes into us
I will fall off
With you

Whisper how you feel
Even if you’re only expressing hunger
I see visions in those dark brown eyes
Tip toe into the bathroom, look in the mirror
Yayo, yes you
I’m always buzzing just like neon

Make our souls complete
Join the ones who just are there
Confess loneliness
Slow dance in the dark
Et prends ta guitar

Now there’s one last chance
Don’t reject again
Paris, way to set up but
With our school french group thirty people
Possible freedom with your friends and mine
But only if you touch me with your fingertips
So I don't know what to do. After the trip to France in the end of May we'll just go to school for a couple of days and then say goodbye forever, if not. He's sixteen, I'm fifteen and we'll start a different education such as everybody else around us.
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