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Somewhere Above The Key Of Gee!

Updated on March 15, 2011

Old wood surrounds
my 1865 C.F.Martin guitar,
with worn ivory pegs and fret bars,
and rare inlaid woods,
from tropical places afar.

Its coffin case
of ebony wood,
skeleton key lock
and hand pegged nails,
hold these precious
remains of another time.

What stories this 143 year old
wooden instrument could tell,
of a not so civil war,
and perhaps a young soldier
strumming its catgut strings
around a blazing campfire,
just east of despair.

How many loves were wooed,
by romantic melodies
to young girls in

hoop skirts or Victorian attire.

To the Flappers of the twenties,

Depression era beauties,

World War Two widows,

Bobby socked and penny loafered

babes of the fifties,

Hippy chicks and

peaceniks of the sixties,

so many songs plucked with hope

for the elusive harmonies of true love,

right up untill now, 2008.


One can only imagine

the many struggling musicians,
bent over its hourglass frame,
pressing their very souls across
the many frets it offered

and finding peace.

I bend now to lift it reverently,
and strum its modernized strings,
and listen with awe at the rich
oh, so mellow tones that it emits.
As history strikes a chord between
a present day dreamer,
and the hauntingly faint

echoing spirits of all

who died before me,
pursuing the same dream.

©-MFB III

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    • Godslittlechild profile image

      Godslittlechild 7 years ago

      I really enjoyed reading this. Bravo!