Strings

Electric whisperings and magnetic bleats
remind you that it's merely a machine
As your fingers find their place in an auditory grid,
pulling and stretching a tune from the strings
that are tossed around by muscle memory
Notes thrown off into musical oblivion
Then drawn back, seduced by a quaking bassline
You reach into the fretboard
And scoop out sounds
That float like bubbles off your fingers
Bouncing off of ears and drumbeats
Until it loses meaning as an instrument
And becomes pure music leaping from your hands
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Comments
An impressive and creative read combined with rhythm that created a scene. Well done.
This sounds like music to me ## I am a bit jealous because I've tried playing a guitar but it didn't work out. ## great write
xoxo
leah
Nice poem! It really represents the fluidity one feels while making music. ? ???
This poem is really nice. I like how put the way it feels to make music in words!