"guiter" poems
His face is like a head of a plane
His smile is a banana boat
His hands are nice ans slim
His arms are powerful windmills
His legs are faster than a hare
His fingers are a new type of springs
His heart is a bass drum
His stare is a Eagle
His voice is a bass guiter
His laugh is a stamp
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 4:50 PM UTC
Standing atop the highest building,
She watched the bright lights of the city.
Strumming a guiter, singing silently for the love of the earth, the beauty it carries, the hope it dishes out.
The stars and moon look down at her, listening to the music that made them want to dance.
She kept on until her fingers hurt, but the sleeping city slept on and she just wanted to keep on and hang on, not wanting the sun to rise and let the darkness cool her mind.
She just wanted to play for the stars and the moon and look on upon the silent earth filled with nightly magic.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 3:04 AM UTC