The Instrument
There once was a time
So long ago
When from this Guitar
Sweet music would flow
A beautiful Instrument
So slick in my hand
It held dreams of wonder
For me and the band
Fingers would drift
across golden string
The music it made
would make the heart sing
It carried me far
across many lands
Making sweet Music,
just me and the band
Time goes so fast
As does come age
All memories now
The turn of the page
Fingers now stiff
They won't pay a bar
But they still feel the beauty
Of this old Guitar
The memories it conjurers
They carry me far
To a time when you loved me
and this old Guitar
But time carried you away
ripped from my hand
and with you the music
that flowed from my hand
Now there are just memories
Many stories at hand
We sit and we tell them
Me and the band
On the porch at sunset
A beer in our hand
We trade those old stories
Me and the band
The day will come soon
I will be back at your side
once more I will make music
For my beautiful Bride
A very nice story within the poem and the photo could be your album cover!
ReplyDeleteLOL Indded
DeleteNice write of your memory with your guitar.
ReplyDeleteI hope you let us know when you make music for your lucky Bride. :)
LOL its not Memories Sophie just fiction, the bride is dead so the only place he will be playing any music is when he meets her again in Heaven;)
DeleteThis was wonderful, Baz..... would make a hit song, those beautiful words and that photo...will you be going to Nashville???? LOL
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed that.
ReplyDeleteVery nicely written, mate!! A great 'accompaniment' to the photo :-))
ReplyDeleteYou say "fiction" but there is more truth in this than you know. I am the current owner af a violin that has been in my family for at least 4 generations (one of the few things that made the trip from Ireland.) Unfortunately what you say about the fingers being too stiff is 100% accurate. In a few months I am taking my fidddle with me when I visit my son and his baby (any day now) in Cleveland, Ohio where it will be presented to generation 5 and 6 and once again I hope to hear the beautiful tones of my instrument. (BTW .. if this fiddle could talk it would tell us how it managed to get from Italy to Ireland. It has been authenticated as an original from a maker of fiddles called Amadi in Italy. His name is not as familiar as the name of his student, a guy named Stradavari. I suspect that had the original owenr in my family known this in Ireland, it would have been sold for food. But that would have pre-suppsed anybody else would have had money to spare, which of course they did not.
ReplyDeleteWow... what a coincidence! My entry is also about a guitar (Portuguese), not so beautiful as yours, different in shape and with twelve steel strings. Love your write...very poetic and romantic!
ReplyDeleteNicely done.
ReplyDeleteI just loved that verse. Which band did you play for?
ReplyDeletelol none Pat its fiction
DeleteA good country music song Baz
ReplyDelete