An Ode To MY Guitar.



This guitar's endured

angry fingers and thumbs

plucking pain from its frets

till my digits were numb,

with its dark sound hole screaming

as my vocals fell mum

something far more redeeming

then I'd ever begun

things my heart should be dreaming

on lonely nights yet to come.


But it's also known loving,

when I've wooed a young girl,

watched her eyes softly moisten

under long lashes curled,

it's my cure and my poison

when each heartstring I've pressed,

coaxed a smile gently poised in 

ways that make two hearts blessed,

what came next can be guessed.


Sweetest notes became kisses

till her song reached its end,

loneliness softly fading

with my mahogany friend,

hardened steel and soft nylons

oh, so gently they'd bend

while the warmth of flesh blending

played again and again.


All my dischords bled out

into sweet harmonies

one round bodied Ovation

playing love's melodies

echoed on in my memories

with passionate pleas.


Now it squats in the corner

my dear friend for life

that never turned on me yet

or cut me like a knife,

though it's made me a mourner,

it brought me my wife.

thus we still take communion

with the sweet wine of life

and I'll always embrace it

both in joy and in strife.


It's a mystical thing, 

spawned of wood,

steel and strings, 

there's no song to express 

all the joy that it brings,

I'll let no dust films gather,

on its smooth, yawning face,

it holds powers beyond me,

plus the next tune I'll chase,

with my heart's guest of honor

in it's permanent place.


Here's to my old gitfiddle 

pegged a wee bit high strung,

but man it's got style,

on my shoulder strap hung,

like a true gifted child

it is second to none,

someday I'll be a star, 

from the works it has done.

Art~Whimsically Yours Studio

Matthew F. Blowers III-(c)-2016