The Shabby Guitar Poem

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  • #164224
    Mallory O’Bier
    @overcomer
      • Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
      • Total Posts: 550

      I’d appreciate any and all feedback on this one! It’s an older poem of mine that I really want to polish and improve. Thanks! 😀

      The Shabby Guitar

      —-

      Silent is the shabby guitar 

      Locked and put away

      Faded are the songs it made 

      Folded are the hands that played

      —-

      Silent is the shabby guitar 

      Slowly losing its tune

      While people come and they go

      With the sun and rain and snow 

      —-

      Still silent is the shabby guitar 

      Alone it patiently waits 

      Until strange hands take it from its place 

      And carefully remove it from its case 

      —-

      Upon the silent, shabby guitar

      Sunlight reveals each dent and scar

      The glossy finish is worn and rubbed,

      It is an old guitar, which once was loved.

      —-

      The hands stroke the shabby guitar 

      Like it’s a long-lost friend,

      And then, slightly quivering 

      Draw their fingertips across the strings 

      —-

      A sound comes from the shabby guitar

      A long, sad chord that trembles and aches

      Like a heart that has lost someone dear,

      Someone who was once alive and near.

      —-

      The hands then tune the shabby guitar

      Painstakingly taking their time:

      All six strings are plucked and tested

      Each ivory knob carefully twisted.

      —-

      The shabby guitar is strummed again

      And this time, a chord clear and sweet

      Springs forth from the instrument

      The joyful sound resonates a moment.

      —-

      Tears fall on the shabby guitar

      And the hand that strummed the metal strings

      Pauses and hastily wipes them away

      Before once again resuming to play

      —-

      Now the guitar is not put away

      But placed conveniently within reach

      No longer will its case gather dust

      Nor will the strings stretch and rust;

      —-

      Now the guitar is not shabby

      But its finish is restored and gleaming;

      No longer silent, it sings

      Whenever hands dance upon its strings,

      —-

      As they strum the treasured guitar

      Fondest memories fill the ear

      And as its sweet music rises and fades

      New, beloved memories are made.

       

      #164563
      Koshka
      @koshka
        • Rank: Eccentric Mentor
        • Total Posts: 1424

        @overcomer

        Ooo, I like this poem.

        I’m not the most amazing of a poet, but I’ll post any polishing I can think of in a bit.

        Thanks for sharing!

        First Grand Historian of Arreth and the Lesser Realms (aka Kitty)

        #165007
        Mallory O’Bier
        @overcomer
          • Rank: Knight in Shining Armor
          • Total Posts: 550

          Thanks, @koshka! That would be great. 🙂

          I wrote this poem after my uncle’s passing. He was self-taught on guitar and left a few of the instruments behind (as well as many people who loved him).

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