Guitars Poem by Julia West (julesx 64)

Classical Guitars, Of Seduction,
Rock, Of Strength,
Electric Guitars cause Rib-cage Vibrations from strings 'plugged in',
Sultry Bass Guitar, A deep heartbeat rhythm, the centre core, dancing slowly and weaving it's sound.
All guitars and people, have stories to tell - tapestries of life to unfold through their music.....

All cultures and races joioned by music .... no differences noticed,
When life dances along to the same beat.
Understanding, and multilingual across many ages and generations,
Bonded together through the eb and flow of their music.
Guitars speak of communities, socialising together.

Dancing, Tapping of feet,
Hands playing imaginary drums
As once again their minds and bodies are whisked away -
They are themselves in the band who plays,
Or have flown to tropical lands far away,
Colouring vivid detail as they travel, music mesmerising......

Mind wanderings across musical notes,
The Guitars sing of beautiful scenery, allowing our imagination to colour in each detail
They Play along with the pain of a broken heart,
Reminding us of those moments - when we feel so very Alone.
One half of what used to be Two......

Guitars Hold us gently within their undertones, delicious memories of seductions past,
Promises of new and better futures.
They raise hopes of better times to come,
Complimentary and in harmony around other musical styles,
Proud and at the front, or atmoshere enhancing in the background.

Children with an instinctive rhythm and movement -
Even when can bearly stand they wiggle,
Caught up in the moment, totally surendering to the music -
Held within an imaginary magic spell,
Excess energy observed takes over both the Guitarist, Adult and Child alike,
Energy with a purpose and permission to move! ! !

Dancers together, Left breathless, begging for more when Guitar bids farewell,
Different people, Problems forgotten as Guitar music soothes the soul,
It's music - like others - A mode of expression,
Sad, Angry,
Happy in Love,
Lonliness Forgot, or even
Happy times remembered.

Accomplishment felt when this beautiful instrument can be played,
When the awkwardness of clumbsy and stumbling fingers of it's learner,
Peals away to reveal the Remembered, Spontaneity and rhythmic perfection
Real tunes expressed from grateful strings,
The players brain at last free to escape the confines of now,
And travel away with the senses.... the imagination.

Singers tones add to the experience.
Tripping and flowing across - as waterfalls or the mighty sea waves,
Patterns journeys to delight to the core, to the soul....
(Well... That depends on the singer that is! ! !)