you
play and
that thing
cries
real tears
six liquid
vibrations
and
that thing
bleeds
harmony
you
snag my elbow
and whisper
you don't
play this
thing
no, you don't
you can't
you work it.
you work this
baby
you work it with
nimble fingers
the kind the
ladies like
i smile and
agree
but it's
really lost
it's lost because
i don't
i can't make her
bleed or cry
notes are
what i make
notes
and
only
notes.
Author notes
my thoughts on the guitar
A contest entry
- prewrites by machiavel.
400 points, ended October 26, 2008, 126 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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oh it's not all that cryptic. i got it.
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Indeed!
One name to sum it up: Jimmy Hendrix. You know exactly what I mean, and I have a feeling he would know exactly what you mean, too.
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The musicians curse... I love it
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I liked the overall picture/idea of this. You represented playing a guitar well. I think the only thing that didn't catch my fancy was the lack of emotion, but of course, you can't have an overwhelming amount when you're writing about guitars and such
Nonetheless, very good poem and flow. I'd like to see more from you 
Jeanette*~ -
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i was hoping to get across the feeling that i think most guitar players get watching other master musicians--"i will never be that good." and the sadness that comes along with that.
anyway, thank you for the kind words. More to come soon!
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