Guitar Man Poem by John I Nash

Guitar Man

Rating: 5.0


In a smoke filled room, the lights so low that it looks like gloom the Guitar man ply's his trade. A voice that has stood the test of time and fingers scarred by the strings of a million tunes, he softly croons his melancholy song.

His eyes tell a story of sadness and despair his deep voice has tragedy written there. He sings my life with every note, and every song a window to my soul. I hear his voice in my mind as he eases my pain.

In his voice I find comfort of family, friends long lost, patriotism a reminder of service given, sometimes even God is there all forgiving who has made my life worth living.

Through gladness and sadness the Guitar Man has sung for me. When at last I lay my head on that satin pillow, from afar I'm sure I will hear him singing a Bible hymn to ease my passing and comfort those near and cherished.

Bless the Guitar man for he is all giving and not only with his singing.

COPYRIGHT: C 8/10/2016

Saturday, November 12, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: music
POET'S NOTES ABOUT THE POEM
Dedicated to Ron Kimble, the last of the true Guitar men.
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