Poems and limerick about our guitars!

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Cpt Matt Sparrow
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Poems and limerick about our guitars!

Post by Cpt Matt Sparrow »

Me ans Suzie just wrote this as a joint effort about our Gibson SG platinum for the Gibson forums, feel free to contribute :)

Ode To SG Platinum

There once was an SG Guitar,
whose tone was the chunkiest by far,
when you turned the gain up to full,
the sustain was so cool,
this baby was one silver star!
Having a break from online activity for a while to concentrate on music. Please email if you need to get in touch. Matt
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ptate
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Post by ptate »

Hey Capn; not quite a limerick, more straight laced, but.........

Sonic distillations of bygone era
Driving silence allaying fears
Structured tenements of tone
Diversification of string theory
Allowing ebony choruses to climb
Integrity lubricates digit memories
Function gives way to desire
White light reflects clarity
Whilst picks attack the core
Bound bodies scream intention
Head wearing the split crown of love and hate
Coiled snakes sit back ready to strike
Gold thrust onto the body
Lies with silent strength
Perfection the remedy to the day
Marshalling my feelings through sound.

Kept it short, but sorry about the waffle and the fact that it's a bit sh*t. It's about my Alpine White Les Paul Custom (as it may not quite be clear).
Cpt Matt Sparrow
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Post by Cpt Matt Sparrow »

Your Custom should be proud about the love you feel for her...

hmmm I think next a love poem about My Grestch.
C'mon there must be other members who want to join Ptate and Cpt Matt, the Keats and Byron of Ultimaterhoads :)

Matt
Having a break from online activity for a while to concentrate on music. Please email if you need to get in touch. Matt
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GUITARIDOL5682
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Post by GUITARIDOL5682 »

I was looking at a Marshall advertising poster with Motorhead's Lemmy and it said across the front " Old Marshall's never die they just blow your Fuckin' head off !!". Which may not be poetry or lymerick verse but i just thought it was very to the point especialy for Lemmy.
Cpt Matt Sparrow
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Post by Cpt Matt Sparrow »

Shaun, we are trying to show a bit of culture here! It was good though :) Feel free to show your sensitive sidexxxx

Anyway a piece of Prose dedicated to my Brian Setzer Hot Rod draft one

The 1950's was the birth of the Gretsch guitar.
It's sound packed a punch but also a cheeky confidence ,
a light touch of the Bigsby making it's unique voice shimmer through the air,
creating a tranquility, as the tones bounced like stones skimming a lake.

50 years later with a new trestle bracing, glowing tangerine red it stood there with a dignified stare.
Nodding with that familiar smile to the sounds of yesteryear, but with a contemporary elegance..
in the engine an ebony fretboard that made this one hotroded machine
The TV Jones pick ups responding with a whisper or a scream
the name of this guitar is the Hot Rod Guitar, Brian Sezter's signature axe, and my favourite by far

Matt
Having a break from online activity for a while to concentrate on music. Please email if you need to get in touch. Matt
JustTakeAPebble
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Post by JustTakeAPebble »

Learning To Play

Sat silent in her place,
The dust lingers,
Strings unplayed,
For hours,
Prehaps a day or two,
I'll pick her up again,
Prehaps tomorrow,
Not tonight.

She sat untouched,
The dust takes over,
My hand reaches for her,
The dust runs far,
My hand embraces the frets,
I put her back,
Then reach a second time.

Not today,
Not tonight.

I strum my hand down her neck,
Her tone, soft, gentle just by a touch.
A note played,
A quivering vibrato.
I strum my fingers over her.
Her gentle song,
A beauty left tamed,
I put her back,
I leave her alone.

Not tonight,
Maybe tomorrow.

I pick her up once more,
Embrace her once again,
Holding her gentle neck,
Her song, becomes clearer now.
A weeping vibrato,
Her strings played,
I give in to her.

Now I pondered to myself,
How could I have left her,
So still, quiet and mild,
When her voice needed heard,
I now let her speak,
Let her sing her song to you.

Listen,
Just Listen.

Can you hear her too?


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ptate
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Post by ptate »

Good jobs people, you should ne proud.

My latest on playing:

A soliloquy pushes the night air into an excited embrace
Caustic devices snare latent ambition from the page
Aggrieved notes pull souls from hell into life
Hourly, deranged digital freneticism coaxes spite.
Heaving, lustful rhythmical pulses grind the heart
Wailing, possessed tones burst through membranes
Vibrant conical suffering of distended magnetism
Holding on to a cavernous drop as explosions mount
Plentitude in abundance scraping wound harmonies
Taught springs and stoic forms join in choristic voyeurism
Organic satiation through mechanical abuse
Perspiratory weeping as neuron tears pulse knowingly
Collapse an ending awaiting the new start.

Ta da............ :D
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