September 7, 2011

Poetic Moment: The Guitar

I wrote this many many years ago… and despite it being so old I like to revisit and reread and reminisce… and I thought I would share the thought with you.

I started writing this on August 28th, 2008 and actually continued editing it till the following day, August 29th. I find it therapeutic and the fact that it still holds a meaning after all these years… something special about writing that just gives me a peace of mind.



The Guitar

The guitar stood there in the dark
Waiting for someone to strum its strings
But in the dark it cannot see
What it wanted to see or wanted to be

The guitar is patiently waiting
As it listens;
Something is noisily counting
Oh, oh, it’s the clock…
The time tells no one what it’ll bring

The guitar rests there loosening its strings
Wishing someone would tune it,
Pluck by pluck
So it remains there, waiting
And it waits…
It waits…

Waiting, the guitar looks up to the sky
And saw the baby blue sky breaks
Into pink, purple and golden sunset
And said hello to the stars
As it adorn the blue-black sky
And smiled at the rabbit-faced moon,
As it grins
Towards you and I

The guitar feels the air is getting colder
As the guitar gets older
And realises that there’s no one
No one to pluck its strings
No one to watch the sky with
Or to hold it tight

So it remains,

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