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Maxim Keyfman Nov 2018
documents around them
documents they are a poet to me
documents they are lira
documents they are guitar
they are a guitar they are a guitar
they are the violin they are the pianos

documents around them
the documents are sung to me again
documents on how to get away from them
documents never to leave
because always always always
existed were were were they

13.11.18
lovelywildflower Nov 2018
i sat, leaning against the wall
guitar in hands
my fingers dancing on the strings
i closed my tear-filled eyes
and let my heart take over
i recorded the sound of my broken heart
you may not like the sound of it
but it wasn't meant to sound pretty
it wasn't meant to sound like a perfect thing
it was meant to sound broken
just like me
Maxim Keyfman Nov 2018
here I sit again
I remember my humble spring
remember those modest lights and
that humble red guitar
and friend and light and new mountains

I see again and
I remember my dreams and I like water
here I sit here and I sit like
I then said that it would come
this moment and hour will come

and even then by the light of those lanterns
and in the light of that coming sun and summer
with all these drawings graffiti and guitar
I was not so happy then not at all but now
I remember the words and everything will
pass and what will pass
it will be nice and beautiful

02.11.18
Mitch Prax Oct 2018
Somewhere tonight
there’s a girl writing a song
between working two jobs,
ignoring the voices that
tell her to give up.
I hope she never does.
I hope her future
is a bright one.
Sandman Oct 2018
Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.
All my memories seem so far away.
It seemed just yesterday that I was on the train to New York City.
With the phantom lights dimmed down and my guitar in my hand.
Strumming away the days like grey rain raining down cafe jazz.
But now in my cup of coffee is a blurred reflection staring back at me.
All the things that I seen and all things that I have done stored in my memories.
I'm riding in the backseat of a taxi with my face pressed against the window looking out at familiar faces.
Life is passing by a lot faster than I thought.
This is from my imagination
Slei Robs Oct 2018
It is in the middle of the year
when everyday seems like a marathon of rain
He sits in his chair, starts writing his affair
And every beat of his heart, turns into a song of art
He makes music that can make a soul be brought back into life
He can even make a song that can turn a woman into a wife

In every song he makes, every music he creates
A piece of his soul was added, the secret ingredient was padded
How I love how he holds his guitar, he does look like an action star
how he sings with his six strings, slow dancing, my body swings
to the beat of his heart and now I can't depart
how do I start when you already have my heart

Passionately I pray to hear you sing every day,
I know you don't feel the same way
With or without your guitar, you will always be my Northern star

S.J Robs
Cardboard-Jones Oct 2018
They call her name up to the stage
But she’s not sure she should go.
They call her name and yet
Her stomach practically explodes.
It’s not unusual and surely not so desirable,
But she knows it’s her moment so focus, focus.

I know she’s nervous I can see the sweat forming on her brow.
Anticipation, hesitation settles over the crowd.
Anxiety is swelling as the people keep staring
All the while wondering who this girls that’s wearing...

An aubergine Tanglewood.
She starts strumming and she’s humming, set the mood for the room.
Songs with three chords amuses the hoard
With enticing melody’s.

She closed her eyes so she wouldn’t see the eyes in the room.
She closed her eyes and now she’s all alone inside the venue.
It’s not so tragic as she thought it was gonna be.
Still a few more songs left so we’ll see, we’ll see.
Heads are nodding, feet are moving, they’re all feeling the vibe.
She’s the doctor and her music is what she prescribes.
The walls echoing the cheers but the room was too bright.
Nobody will notice when I change the lights to…

Aubergine to change the mood.
She keeps singing and they’re beginning to become unglued.
Ignite the masses and let’s toast glasses
To songs from the guitar.
A Tanglewood is a type of acoustic guitar
Petals weaved and laced for limbs,
   Infinity intricately at his feet,
Arrows of lobster clawed feathers,
   Shooting lanterns up the street.

Four corners in black,
   Multiplied with moving tints,
Grey flowing into the endless drift,
   Scissors slicing ribbons,
The final trick played by twins.

Redly lit and pink warmth of a bird's statue,
   Emitting frozen tones,
Evermore catering his fortitude,
   Fleetly plucking each leaf,
Each one falling and bending,
   Into smokey cat-eyed gleam.
© Teri Darlene Basallote Yeo
Outside Words Oct 2018
Strolling through the park
With humans, dogs, and birds,
Pink leaves make their mark
As they hover down in thirds.

Drifting along lazy airwaves,
An amplified guitar echoes
As a band soulfully misbehaves
For all nearby bedfellows.

Apartments loom over trees,
From a place of urban gray
As blue air works to appease
Spaces between dusk and day.

Sturdy street lights rusted and old
Accompanying a worn path ignite,
One by one flashing dark to gold
On a normal Wednesday night.
Listen to this while you read:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KIJhiimooeg&list=RDP7K3pzoAwcs&index=2

© Outside Words
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