Mandolin Poems - Poems about Mandolin

I Love music love to listen rock, folk, blues, bluegrass, jazz poetry and music share the same roots music I love to play banjo and mandolin I’m not very good but it soothes my soul ...

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In your anger; you smashed my mandolin And along with it you also broke my heart Thinking you were so clever, and so smart So, I created you into a waxen mannequin Making sure I took such care on your ears And sat you down upon your old arm chair Repaired mandolin in hand with you share With such lament in your...

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Sometimes in life we can only see something in our minds such as a memory. A scent, a sound, a word or a tune, can bring us to a time that ended too soon. We can look back fondly when we think of times, that we relive in our minds through a song or a chime...

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Woke up this morning with a dirty big grin Must have really enjoyed the dreams I was in With chickies galore Naughties on the floor At eighty years old, should retire my mandolin...

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The land calls my name, deep inside the bowels Working the strips of fabric that installs Patience builds up where wind blows beyond time Lips tell stories but won’t work in the rhyme Severed is the black hair off her white skin Opened her heart, the day’s cool air within Leaves tumble and shake away from the trees Clouds play their music...

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Al would invite me to his house to jam Couldn’t play Bluegrass; didn’t give a damn When Al brought in a banjo and fiddle He played the bass; I could only twiddle When he said, “a guitar player’s coming” Some things in my heard started to humming “Al, don’t seek another player, my friend” I’ll going to learn to play the mandolin” At...

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M ade of maple and spruce A lways ready for use N ow is the time to play D o not put it away O pen the case, take out L earn a new song throughout I t’s the way to improve N ow you’re into a groove!...

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Mandolin slicer rubbing my heart on its blade Tomato red bowl...

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A voiceless emoted summer ran amok the muse music's mandolin strummer. Essence of antiquity wander and sulk... Arched building's olden archetecture is many awsome massive like hulks. Gargoyles perch at building eve's set... Mine eyes have failed to adjust to strange one's yet met. Opera houses are filled up to the rafters... Performed by artist's well talented crafters. Rained downpours hard on French...

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Its mournful melodies come drifting Through the valley and the glen, Those last haunting , misting memories Of the mountain mandolin. A jaunty jew’s-harp joins along now Like a lonesome loud amen, While a fiddle fades and then rises With that mountain mandolin. Then the bass moans of an old cowboy Who in rage shot his best friend, As that band of long ago...

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