Your Guitar

Your guitar

in your callused hands

wood, metal, and string

acting as an extension

of your very essence.

 

You are the musical soul

playing through lonely nights,

despite the incessant noise--

the cacophony of the world--

the deaf ear turned to your song.

 

You strum on, needing nothing

but desiring to be heard--

to share your music with someone

and have that simple connection

of understanding and appreciation.

 

 

 

Reviews

[Deborah Leah Krempa]

I have a guitar that sits in the corner of my den, and have a friend who occasionally plays and makes it's music come to life. Good job. Thank you for sharing. Debileah

[Mpotavin]

If you want to keep the length, then you will need to provide more concrete details. It currently is too vague. Stay away from the undefinable "you". I can't tell if this is a person you know, or just some dude playing guitar. Describe him. What kind of music?

Fingertips get callused, not the whole hand, strings are made of nylon, sometimes wound in metal like copper not "string".

The second stanza is just terrible. Show me this don't tell me. Describe this person in ways that make this understood.

The focus needs to be drawn out of the head. Provide more visceral stimuli.

[Sarah]

I like this poem, very original to write about music as sort of an extension to one's soul or feelings. (: Second stanza was my favorite - great imagery! ^___^