Best Guitar Poems

Do you remember an Inn,
Miranda?
Do you remember an Inn?
And the tedding and the spreading
...

I was hoping to be happy by seventeen.
School was a sharp check mark in the roll book,
An obnoxious tuba playing at noon because our team
Was going to win at night. The teachers were
...

She has laughed as softly as if she sighed,
She has counted six, and over,
Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried -
Oh, each a worthy lover!
...

Well, my daddy left home when I was three,
and he didn't leave much to Ma and me,
just this old guitar and a bottle of booze.
...

The Owl and the Pussy-cat went to sea
In a beautiful pea green boat,
They took some honey, and plenty of money,
Wrapped up in a five pound note.
...

When I close a book
I open life.
I hear
faltering cries
...

Last night I went to bed at eleven
And dreamed I went to Poetry Heaven.
Keeper of the Gate was not Saint Peter
But Robert Frost - - hey, what could be sweeter?
...

Pelican blues, jay walking on velvet souls
Somber and detach, mayhem
Pickering the night of pre dawn
The choir of your anger, screaming
...

When I die
I don't care what happens to my body
throw ashes in the air, scatter 'em in East River
bury an urn in Elizabeth New Jersey, B'nai Israel Cemetery
...

March days return with their covert light,
and huge fish swim through the sky,
vague earthly vapours progress in secret,
things slip to silence one by one.
...

Once a great guitar contortionist
alluded to the Axis
He provided peculiar clues
to a mystery that still hadn't been solved
...

Young and tender – like a green coconut with sweet juices
Soft skin – as soft as an infant
Red blushes face – as red as the ‘Red Sun’
Sweet voice – like a hungry Dolphin echo
...

I work all day,
Said Simple John,
Myself a house to buy.
I work all day,
...

A car is a car
If it can ride you nearby or far

A car is a car
...

I fell out of love: that’s our story’s dull ending,
as flat as life is, as dull as the grave.
Excuse me-I’ll break off the string of this love song
and smash the guitar. We have nothing to save.
...

1/
Genius is not a generous thing
In return it charges more interest than any amount of royalties can cover
And it resents fame
...

It seems someone has cast a dark net
And the town has become a trout caught in that net;
It seems no morning has ever approached here, -
The town has sub-merged in an over-flowing darkness.
...

I woo'd a woman once,
But she was sharper than an eastern wind.
Tennyson
...

He's just
Any old man
In any old bar
With a guitar
...

Every morning in the deep woods of the concrete jungle
With my near and dear ones I sing a coarse musical,
Humans raise from their good night sleep with a frown of unpalatable
They call me ‘Crow’ and express their acerbity with a scowl,
...

In the Grandville greyhound station in the lightly drizzlin' rain
Sittin' on my suitcase goin' quietly insane all about you babe all about you
...

Lips sumptuous you have in a way quiet,
Excites me to consume them with a kiss
To give my heart a sensational riot
Of penchant wild, draws me into its abyss.
...

This poem is not addressed to you.
You may come into it briefly,
But no one will find you here, no one.
You will have changed before the poem will.
...

Here's the half-finished painting of a girl that I started last December
Here's the first three pages of my novel bout I don't really remember
...

In a pad with no heat, up on Sullivan Street,
The last of the hipsters lay dyin'.
Wearin' his shades, so like no one could tell
...

O TAKE my hand, Walt Whitman!
Such gliding wonders! such sights and sounds!
Such join'd unended links, each hook'd to the next!
...

The weeping of the guitar
begins.
The goblets of dawn
are smashed.
...

Oh the changing of the seasons it's a pretty thing to see
And though I find this balmy weather pleasin'
...

Lying listless in the mosses
Underneath a tree that tosses
Flakes of sunshine, and embosses
Its green shadow with the snow--
...

To Ianthe:

Not in those climes where I have late been straying,
Though Beauty long hath there been matchless deem'd;
...

Well I've been spendin' my life lookin' for a shoulder
To rest my head when the nights get colder
...

About Soho we went before the light;
We went, unresting six, craving new fun,
New scenes, new raptures, for the fevered night
Of rollicking laughter, drink and song, was done.
...

So you heard there was a spark of love that I have for you
You come back to kill it like you always do
...

Did you hear bout Stacy brown (no we didn't but we'd like to)
He had every chick in town (no he didn't but he tried to)
...

'O'er the glad waters of the dark blue sea,
Our thoughts as boundless, and our soul's as free
Far as the breeze can bear, the billows foam,
Survey our empire, and behold our home!
...

Sun soaked revelations
on a patio deck.

I had long forgotten
...

We shall not be discouraged
From acting together,
By our differences in faith,
Color and race.
...

Walk into a restaurant with chicken on my mind
Look at the menu I want roastbeaf and wine
A waitress comes up I order baked beans and bread
...

Lift me up to the sky by the notes
Oh, flute by your captivating melodious tunes

Sing to my body and sing to my soul...
...

The most unusual thing I ever stole? A snowman.
Midnight. He looked magnificent; a tall, white mute
beneath the winter moon. I wanted him, a mate
...

Take away your knowledge, Doktor.
It doesn't butter me up.
...

I drank musty ale at the Illinois Athletic Club with
the millionaire manufacturer of Green River butter
one night
And his face had the shining light of an old-time Quaker,
...

In the tenth year of Yuanhe I was banished and demoted to be assistant official in Jiujiang. In the summer of the next year I was seeing a friend leave Penpu and heard in the midnight from a neighbouring boat a guitar played in the manner of the capital. Upon inquiry, I found that the player had formerly been a dancing-girl there and in her maturity had been married to a merchant. I invited her to my boat to have her play for us. She told me her story, heyday and then unhappiness. Since my departure from the capital I had not felt sad; but that night, after I left her, I began to realize my banishment. And I wrote this long poem -- six hundred and twelve characters.

I was bidding a guest farewell, at night on the Xunyang River,
Where maple-leaves and full-grown rushes rustled in the autumn.
...

Now I was hangin' round Nashville writin' songs and playin' 'em for all of the stars
Watchin' 'em laugh and hand 'em back livin' on hope and
...

Yeah hoodoo voodoo lady cast up your voodoo vision
Let me know where did my baby go where did my lovin' baby go
...

How sweet the answer Echo makes
To music at night,
When, roused by lute or horn, she wakes,
And far away, o'er lawns and lakes,
...

Unwind my mind oh baby drain my brain
Unscrew my head take a part of my heart
Scrape away the pain and start all over again
...

I watch Inesilla
Thy window beneath,
Deep slumbers the villa
In night's dusky sheath.
...

Darkness descends
on Alpujara's golden land.
My guitar invites you,
come out my dear!
...

Some carol of the banjo, to its measure keeping time;
Of viol or of lute some make a song.
My battered old accordion, you're worthy of a rhyme,
You've been my friend and comforter so long.
...

(Sonnet as Keynote to WS)

The stout man puffs on his Havana cigar
And picks canary chords on his blue guitar,
...

Neglected now is the old guitar
And moldering into decay;
Fretted with many a rift and scar
That the dull dust hides away,
...

He cradles it
palm to palm

like a newborn.
...

Baby

Like flowers reaching for Sun, baby sucks ma's breast.
Petals open kissed by light, baby smiles content.
...

I watched a movie of Suraiya when I was a child,
Suraiya was an Indian popular star,
She exposed her tunes like a guitar,
An appealing beauty making every one wild.
...

Boulevard du Régent
July Flowerbeds of amaranths right up to
The pleasant palace of Jupiter. -
I know it is Thou, who is this place,
...

O—eh—lee! La—la!
Donna! Donna!
Blue is the sky of Palermo;
Blue is the little bay;
...

This singing
is a kind of dying,
a kind of birth,
a votive candle.
...

La lune était sereine et jouait sur les flots. -
La fenêtre enfin libre est ouverte à la brise,
La sultane regarde, et la mer qui se brise,
...

Goya drew a pig on a wall.
The five-year-old hairdresser’s son
Saw, graved on a silver tray,
The lion; and sunsets were begun.
...

To-night I'll have my friar -- let me think
About my room, -- I'll have it in the pink;
It should be rich and sombre, and the moon,
Just in its mid-life in the midst of June,
...

Oh, i remember Zimmy
Quiet, anxious, and young

But you never could believe a single damn word
...

I.

PLACE. -- A small alcove with dark curtains.
The class consists of one member.
...

The sun has set on yet another day.
I am relaxed and at peace as,
I listen to the sounds of the night;
an owl’s mournful hoot,
...

Oh happy he who cannot see
With scientific eyes;
Who does not know how flowers grow,
And is not planet wise;
...

Music is the rhythm of the soul
As necessary as the beat of the heart
Your personality put on paper
In G-Clefs and Eighth Notes
...

I wana gaze beyond the normal depths of your eyes,
To warp into a powerful trance; Mesmerize!

I wana be forever wrapped with your love
...

There was a group called called Scum of the Earth
And they say they got their birth
In a basement bar on Greek Street down in Soho
...

Bud, come here to your uncle a spell,
And I'll tell you something you mustn't tell--
For it's a secret and shore-'nuf true,
...

To-night I'll have my friar -- let me think
About my room, -- I'll have it in the pink;
It should be rich
...

I know you not and in no way
I want to lose starry illusions
With such a face in worst confusion
People are loyal to a ray
...

BIANCA!—fair Bianca!—who could dwell
With safety on her dark and hazel gaze,
Nor find there lurk'd in it a witching spell,
...

I stared into the mirror,
Wincing at my own reflection
Through eyes fogged by cataract,
Saw a black tint spreading around my eyes
...

Ariel to Miranda:-- Take
This slave of music, for the sake
Of him who is the slave of thee;
And teach it all the harmony
...

I.

When my dreams come true--when my dreams come true--
Shall I lean from out my casement, in the starlight and the
...

How do i take you?
Apollo's early laurel bough,
at the dawn of creativity!
...

A tearful tincture washes
Cabbage-green skies;
Beneath the dribbling bushes
Your raincoats lie;
...

Now tidy your house,
dust especially your living room
and do not forget to name
all your children.
...

No breath of air to break the wave
That rolls below the Athenian's grave,
That tomb which, gleaming o'er the cliff
...

El mar como un vasto cristal azogado
refleja la lámina de un cielo de zinc;
lejanas bandadas de pájaros manchan
...

Good editor Dana-God bless him, we say-
Will soon be afloat on the main,
Will be steaming away
Through the mist and the spray
...

You cannot see the upper reaches of Everest
from the base camp, where you acclimatize
with attitude and finger exercises.
...

About my fields, in the broad sun
And blaze of noon, there goeth one,
Barefoot and robed in blue, to scan
With the hard eye of the husbandman
...

Fear! I'm a Greek, and how should I fear death?
A slave, and wherefore should I dread my freedom?
I will not live degraded ~
Sardanapalus
...

On the day of the feast
death had its celebration
the teevees and the movies
told us the same story
...

gently strumming my guitar
soft music fills the air
quietly humming along
thoughts begin floating
...

My Pa and Ma their honeymoon
Passed in an Andulasian June,
And though produced in Drury Lane,
I must have been conceived in Spain.
...

I saw in you the best of me,
twin souls united set aflame.
I loved too much and could not see
that you and I were not the same
...

...

Last night i had a dream,
you and me were in the scene..
Two hearts enveloped as one in the moonlight.
...

A lovely name
Crafted from the strings
Of the heart of Mother Mary
Drawn from the Garden of God
...

I feel like I'm drenched in the Arctic sand,
While listening to the music of downfall bands.
My heart does not recognize your great existence,
Because you are fixated on someone else's residence.
...

We have so many beauties and a lot of charms,
We both are blessed with the lovely arms,
Walking on the narrow pavements of flowers,
Let us wet each other with the lovely showers,
...

Can you feel it? Can you sense it?
You know the rhythm
Sinking into your Dancing Feet?
Spiriting you up on the dance floor 'of life'
...

For him who struck thy foreign string,
I ween this heart has ceased to care;
Then why dost thou such feelings bring
To my sad spirit—old Guitar?
...

Spread eagle sheep legs wide,
wire hooves to shed beams,
and sink blade in neck wool,
’til the gray eyes drain of life
...

The sun keep on shining high
With sweet and tender smiles
As melody of rhythm fill the sky
with scents of joy more than mile.
...

The chanteuse chased melodies-
Her voice rubbed elbows -
With a guitar with broken frets-
In-sync with the Clubs Bass-
...

walk with me..
you and me, not separate
our poem is totality
and our poetry,
...

Unspeakable. The word that fills up the
poem, that the head
tries to excise.
At 6 a.m., the wet lion. Its sewn plush face
...