deepundergroundpoetry.com

Fruit picking from plectrums

I've been lost
In a Humbuckers
field, picking
plump fruit from
plectrums, to fill stomp boxes
full of ripe fancy.
 
My fingers
cut deep on thin strings,
and I bend
with gravel
as I work away fretless,
always keeping time.
 
Weighed down by
a solid body,
sustained by
the richness
of a pentatonic crop,
heavy with rocks.
Author's Note
Someone once told me that a male mid life crisis results in one of three things, divorce, a Harley or a Gibson Les Paul.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
likes 5 reading list entries 1
comments 5 reads 435
Commenting Preference: 
The author encourages honest critique.

Latest Forum Discussions
SPEAKEASY
Today 8:24pm by summultima
SPEAKEASY
Today 8:01pm by Ahavati
COMPETITIONS
Today 7:57pm by wallyroo92
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:45pm by Everavalon
COMPETITIONS
Today 4:41pm by WillowsWhimsies
SPEAKEASY
Today 2:13pm by crimsin