The man and his guitar

The man and his guitar

A Poem by Worms

this came from the painting, stories, and personal experience


A guitar wails deep in the night

it awakens many but it's long till light

but none of them awake with fright


it makes a low and mounful sound

it causes them to look around

and find its owner on the ground


he sits inside a broken up box

sitting on the cold hard rocks

so thin that he can barely walk


he is hapless he's tall and lean

with only rags to huddle between

but in his eyes a glimmer is seen


as he sends his music far and wide

for all of those who sleep inside

as from the cold he tries to hide

grown men weep at his simple notes

that come from this instrument he totes

and to it so much time devotes


for he is the best in all the city

not as smart not as pretty


for he once was a brother long long ago

and though nothing can escape time's flow


he lives himself in a lonely world

but he cares for every boy and girl

as if they were his own

© 2011 Worms

Author's Note

please leave a review

My Review

Would you like to review this Poem?
Login | Register

Request Read Request
Add to Library My Library
Subscribe Subscribe


Added on January 20, 2011
Last Updated on January 20, 2011



somewhere, PA

I'm 16 and insane and I am not the best person to ask about me but here goes nothing I am a hopless romanitc, for the world as well as myself I am a dreamer, I am a schemer I am a ranter, I am .. more..