You Are My Guitar
I Wish I Could Touch Your Strings
You are my guitar before and after the soulful music
since during the auditory poetry you become still
I wish I could touch your strings as you move to any music
playing in the Cosmos far from any black hole’s will to nil
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I wish you were also my piano, with blue and white keys
moving under your Greek fingers, as the Cosmos skips a beat
at the same time that my heart skitters when I think of your laugh
cascading around my mind like Jason’s blessed Argonaut fleet
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If you were a violin, I would have perished long ago
under the emotional weight of your skin touching my mouth
as it tastes every part of you again along your angles
the circles and triangles traced within for my future drouth
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The aulos* playing in my brain, recreating you for me
remembering to include every flaw you never thought of
like believing that you found the truth, when no one ever will
as it lies nowhere to be found like the construct of true love
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* A wind instrument from Ancient Greece.
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Their guitars laughingly weep.
About the Creator
Patrick M. Ohana
A medical writer who reads and writes fiction and some nonfiction, although the latter may appear at times like the former. Most of my pieces (over 2,200) are or will be available on Shakespeare's Shoes.
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More stories from Patrick M. Ohana and writers in Poets and other communities.
A Digital Pandemic.
After a long day in the department, Emily dropped her worn and tired dark leather bag on the counter before navigating through the small and disordered kitchen to grab a cold beer from a contrarily empty fridge. She hadn't had a chance to unpack since moving from Newcastle to Glasgow, let alone shop for sustenance, except for cold brews naturally.
By Billie Whyte4 days ago in Chapters
Comments (4)
It is artfully written, and it honours the Greek spirit. : )
Very interesting way of looking at love - nice poem!
Fabulous work! Keep it up
Guitars are awesome! Well written!