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Electric Blue Guitar
by Tony Whitaker
sitting here thinking
doing a little drinking
my favorite chair sinking
thinking about plinking
my electric blue guitar
almost bored
came a chord
one not ignored
now restored
my electric blue guitar
minor, minor, major, lead
pentatonic riff was freed
fingers reeling bleed
resolution chord I succeed
my electric blue guitar
the fade begins
slow the bends
softly now it all ends
as my mind transcendsÂ…
my electric blue guitar
01/12/2007 Author's Note: @>--->--
Could this also be allegorical for the act of making love?
Posted on 01/12/2007
Copyright © 2024 Tony Whitaker
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Alisa Js on 01/13/07 at 03:19 AM I was going to say ... your poem could be a great metaphor for love... and then I saw your notes.. lol.. have a great weekend..;-) |
| Posted by Anne Engelen on 01/13/07 at 09:43 AM I so recognize this, my hubby is a gitarist too and sometimes I feel the guitars are my competition ;) Enjoyed the read. |
| Posted by Kyle Anne Kish on 01/14/07 at 02:37 PM Tony, I couldn't help but realize how doing something we have a passion for can take us right out of a funk. Your electric blue guitar is your funk-a-dilly workout. Good for you. |
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