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Array ( [sid] => 143700 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => The Guitarist [time] => 2008-07-05 04:35:24 [hometext] => [bodytext] => The strings ripple across the wooden frame
And form a dry ocean current that carries
His melody across the crowded cafe.

The audience looks onward with eager inspection
As he glides his hands down the neck,
Making his instrument purr with a Spanish inflection.

His fingers pluck softly as the harmonic notes chime
As he gently sings a tenor with his hands,
Recalling a lost melody from an Antedeluvian time.

He waves toward the audience, extends his right arm
And brings it back across the nylon strings;
Pure Spanish magic, with a hint of voodoo charm.

He hits one final downward stroke, and lets the chord ring
And the music flees the smokey room
Until the next time he makes his guitar sing.
[comments] => 3 [counter] => 187 [topic] => 25 [informant] => surfwiththealien [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => MiscPoems )

The Guitarist

Contributed by surfwiththealien on Saturday, 5th July 2008 @ 04:35:24 AM in AEST
Topic: MiscPoems

The strings ripple across the wooden frame
And form a dry ocean current that carries
His melody across the crowded cafe.

The audience looks onward with eager inspection
As he glides his hands down the neck,
Making his instrument purr with a Spanish inflection.

His fingers pluck softly as the harmonic notes chime
As he gently sings a tenor with his hands,
Recalling a lost melody from an Antedeluvian time.

He waves toward the audience, extends his right arm
And brings it back across the nylon strings;
Pure Spanish magic, with a hint of voodoo charm.

He hits one final downward stroke, and lets the chord ring
And the music flees the smokey room
Until the next time he makes his guitar sing.

Copyright © surfwiththealien ... [ 2008-07-05 04:35:24]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: The Guitarist (User Rating: 1 )
by GreenEves16 on Saturday, 5th July 2008 @ 07:20:15 AM AEST
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I love acustic guitar, im not really a fan of electric not at all acually, well.....i shouldnt say that im a fan of only certain ppl playing the instrument

Re: The Guitarist (User Rating: 1 )
by Jenni_K on Saturday, 5th July 2008 @ 10:12:59 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Ooohhh.... I'm hooked!!! Loved what this did to me.... Great write....
Jenni

Re: The Guitarist (User Rating: 1 )
by Former_Member on Saturday, 5th July 2008 @ 02:23:27 PM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

As we sit at our desks in our robes, we remember our moment of surfing with an alien. As we were surfing with the alien we ran into a very close friend of the Ghost Alarms, Tom Cruise. When we ran across him, he said, "Hey, how are you doing Ghost Alarms?" to which we replied, "great." He turned to our alien friend and inquired, "L. Ron?" And we said, "No, Zed." Then Bruce Willis showed up and he said, "but Zed's dead, baby, Zed's dead." Then an American showed up and said "it's Zee, not Zed." Then Tom Cruise began jumping up and down on his surf board shouting, "I'm in love! I'm in love!" So then we left, to avoid all this ridiculous chaos. And we found ourselves somewhere in Mexico, where we ran into Johnny Depp. He said we can't stop here, it's bat country. So we went inside a bar to avoid the bats. Inside the bar was our Mexican friend, Sombrero, who was playing his guitar. We wondered why everyone was calling him El Mariachi. We kept telling people, no this is Sombrero, to which our alien friend responded, "his name is not "hat", but the guitarist." We are still confused and we don't know what all that was about. The point is instead of being confused, we were enchanted by the sound of the Spanish guitar, losing us in thoughts of beauty and wonder, the way the classical piano can lose someone. Indeed Spanish guitarists, have a way of making the guitar sound like something heavenly. They have done for the guitar what Beethoven and Mozart have done for the piano. This is a inspired tribute to such a beautiful instrument when played with passion. And indeed it brought fond memories to us of the hat that played guitar. And just as hearing the guitar soothed the confusion of Tom Cruise pitching a fit, Bruce Willis claiming our friend was dead. the American arguing over how to pronounce the letter "Z" and Johnny Depp's fear of bats, this poem also soothed us. And that is a lot of soothings, for we are many.

May a big red monster come out of your closet while you're sleeping and softly lull you back to sleep with Spanish guitar chords, just before eating your rice and beans.

-The Ghost Alarms

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