As My Guitar Gently Weeps Poem by Robert Green
As My Guitar Gently Weeps
Stood in the corner gathering dust
Steel strings
Pitted with rust
Loose and untuned
Waiting to be held
Arms wrapped around
Waiting for the caress of fingers
For passion to make it dance
To feel fingers press and glide
To make this old instrument young again.
A love song to play
The player to sway
A lover long lost
Never forgotten
To bring to life
A song once sung
RG/NB
I love this, Robert. Maybe because I understand how it is when guitar is not touched for sometime and what joy it is when you are able to hold it again and play your song. This poem can apply to a number of situations in life. Smartly written...
A beautiful salute to the guitar, a string instrument - among my favorites. Thank you.
A great poem, reminds me of my guitar, Not played it for a long time. A great write.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/26/2024 7:20:40 AM # 1.0.0.1119
A lovely poem...shows your obsession with your guitar...one gets obsessed with the things he uses like this, it's natural! instruments work wonders when they produce sad tunes...esp.guitar and violin...weep really! ! !