Welcome to Wordplay Thursday!
Let’s mix it up this week! Today, I’m going to give you a topic, and the wordplay is to show that topic with ONLY sensory images (sight, smell, taste, touch, sound). The point is to have fun with the old Nashville advice that says, “Show me, don’t tell me.” You can just pick one sense, or you can challenge yourself by playing one image from each of the 5 senses. Focus on something you can hear, something you can see, something you can feel, something you can smell, or something you can taste.
And heeeeerrrrrreeee we goooo!
“Guitar”
Here’s an example to get you started:
“The e string makes a slight popping sound as I turn the tuning key. I squint, imagining it breaking and stabbing me in the eye.”
Now it’s your turn! Show me, don’t tell me!
Oh, and please keep your posts below an R-rating. It’s a family show, after all…
And thanks to Phillip, Wm Curtis, Donna, Ken Matthiessen, Davis Tribble, Nick S., Donna Kossow, Barney Coulter, Kim Kondrashoff, Linda Keser, Michael Klenda, Harris Tobias and everyone else for your great additions to Wordplay Thursday #123 (read it here)! Great job!
Wordplay Thursday is a great way to the get the creative juices flowing and get some songs started. But what about finishing songs? Sometimes that can be more difficult. That’s why I’ve written “Finish Your Song! 20 Ways To Overcome Creative Roadblocks.” Click here to find out how to finish more songs faster and better. Or click on the image below. Thanks!
God Bless,
Brent
With an hour glass figure she tells magical stories, some soft and sad, some loud and fun, and inspires all the world to follow along, yet she calls home a box.
Guitar
I pick it up and cradle it in my arms like a big wooden baby. My thumb sweeps down the strings, they pour a waterfall of vibrations into my chest and dig train tracks into my fingers.
Guitar
Standing in the corner with sunshine radiating off it’s faded wood and rusted wire, I thought I heard a lonesome picker, softly practicing his craft.
“Guitar” Sweet baby Jesus, I think I could talk about guitars all day every day! Not the many that I’ve had or have… but the ones I still hope to get.
I’ll start story telling and try to work that back to a bit of some song lyrics.. YeeHAW!
I was certain I’d smell smoke, when I’d open that road weary, beat up guitar case. I wasn’t let down at all when I did. I couldn’t quite place it, it was like honky tonk scent deja vu. It sure did smell very familiar. This fine instrument definitely had seen many a western dance hall. Looking into the open grain of the wood, I was certain we’d breathed a lot of the same air in the same places, only not at the same moments in time.
I gently picked it up and it immediately felt like a very competent dancing partner, confidence and comfort are inadequate descriptions of the first impressions upon contact. Forget about “fits like a glove” this one, fit like true love.
Every strum I gave her, gave me a bigger grin. Anything that feels and sounds like this, could easily become my best musical friend. Her tone warmed my heart and yet sent chills through my bones. My ears didn’t hear my own playing but instead, all of my heroes coming through my fingers into those strings. The visions I started having were not of sugar plum fairies dancing, but happy honky tonkers, hard working salt of the earth Americans escaping harsh realities one song at a time. Arm in arm, cheek to cheek, dancing away every woe from the work week.
Her colors were as warm as a Santa Fe sunset,
She sounded sweeter than any other I’d ever met.
She smelled like smokey sawdust from a Dallas dance hall floor
and holding her felt like someone I’d danced with a thousand times before.
Sure, she was scarred and a bit worn out
but I was certain we had quite a future making music together, in that there was no doubt.
(snapping out of it) OK.. I’d better get back to work, posting comments don’t pay the bills 🙂 This was a good one. It didn’t help me to not get all caught up having my iPod playing SiriusXM’s Outlaw Country when I decided to comment!
Happy New Year everyone!
Tommy
As I open up my guitar case, I catch a whiff of every bar I’ve been in – the neck and frets are worn down like a map of where my hands have been.
Sitting in its case, lonely, abandoned, waiting for someone to love it like he did.
Remembering the touch of his hands, the way he wielded the pick, the things he made it say Remembering sweet yesterdays.
“Guitar”
It was weathered and scarred from years of touring and travel around the world…the stories buried within each gash on it’s face could fill a novel.Then the sweetest yet most haunting hollow sound that could never be replicated on a newer more expensive version, streamed from the gaping hole below the g-string as he began to play. My eyes swell up as as I listened to a man,a music legend, who’s own face matched that guitar scar for scar, play “Blue Eyes Crying In The Rain”
Guitar…..
Jones aint much of a rockin’ name in my opinion, but then, neither is Mexican Jones. I once heard Worm screetching that name in his efforts at melodizing, “Guitar Jones…baaayyybbbeeeee…,” while a group of us went to dinner at, Mexican Jones restaurant. The only tasteful item was the Patron margeritas. But everybody turnt up, strung out by guzzling and slurping too much of a good thing; getting out of control with the food fight.
Flinging tomato salsa, slinging icy, slushed triple sec, as I laughed out loud, scoping it out, typing it all on my smartphone, for Thursday.
The melodic waves of my 5-string didnt sound all that harmonious either….still, it felt generous in my strummin’, that my plectrum was merely the background tune to the foreground harmony of the rockin’ mexican rollin’.
I’ll share my guitar song!
Soul Player by Lisa M. Guzda copywrite protected 1/2013
You make steel strings weep
With the motion of your hands
You pursue righteous peace
Sing it out to the stands
Don’t flee youthful passions
If God’s given you the talent
Put His test in to action
Soul player, take the challenge
Chorus:
Soul player, play from the heart
If it matters, there’s your start
Soul player, dig down deep
When you play, you play for keeps
Deeply played your strings sing
The passion cannot be denied
If you could find one thing
To make a heart open wide
Taking the next step
May be hard, lest you fail
Justify the tears you’ve wept
Now you’re famous, known so well
Chorus
Fade out
Soul player, play from the heart
Soul player, dig down deep
Soul player, play for keeps
Soul player, play for keeps
The vibrations from the rosewood body reverberate through my chest. A physical connection to the overtones bouncing around the room and finding their way to my ears as I strum a chord. The ringing strings create a brilliance and sparkle that I can almost see if I close my eyes. I feel the slight stinging in my fingertips where the strings meet the grooves chiseled by a life-long love affair with wood and steel. The pain stirs in me a realization that, though she sometimes hurts me as I run my fingers down her slender neck, her melody breathes into me a life I would never know without her. She is my love, my friend and truly my better half.
His round backed guitar I have found
creates a richer sound,
Though it looks cumbersome
as he gaily strums.
Cradling the keeper of life
cool steel against my fingers
Wood with the leathery scent
sent chills that still linger
Long after opening the show
strumming different memories
Dreaming of the day we close
cause we’re listed first on the lighted marquee
The succulent & tantalizing aroma of fried chicken was emanating from this very old southern style kitchen. I was quickly drawn in…feasting with my eyes upon this big plate of mouth watering delight! At the same time hearing a soft cackle…as I look up to find my tiny, little old grandma standing right next to me…all dressed up in 1040’s garb…eyes twinkling…as she mischievously asks me in her thick southern drawl, ” Would you like a piece honey?”” Go on help yourself.” She didn’t have to tell me twice! I quickly grabbed that hot, steaming, crispy, moist succulent piece of heaven sent…then took my first bite! The taste was not from this world! I could see a huge smile glowing from my grandma’s face as she laughingly said ” The way your eating that chicken honey…I didn’t think you liked it at all! ” as I’m hungrily tore into it without hesitation…quickly grabbing a second piece…all the while in the back ground…I could hear my extended family laughing & talking as Hank William’s ” Hey Good Looking ” was being played over the air. That was in the July over 50 years go…seems like yesterday…
The aroma of tantalizing fried chicken was emanating from this old style southern kitchen. I was quickly drawn in…as my eyes feasted on this big plate of mouth watering delight that was sitting in front of me! Soon I could here a soft cackle…looking up…to find my tiny little grandma standing right to next to me…all dressed up in her finest 1940’s garb. With a twinkle in her eye & in her deep southern drawl she said, ” Would you like a piece honey? ” ” Go on…help yourself!” She didn’t have to tell me twice! I quickly grabbed that hot, steaming, moist, crispy, succulent piece of heaven sent & tore into it! The taste was something so delicious…I can’t even begin to describe it! As I was hungrily demolishing that chicken & at the same time without hesitation…quickly grabbing another piece…a huge smile began to glow on my grandma’s face…as she said laughingly out loud, ” The way your eating that chicken honey…it seems you don’t like it at all! ” All the while in the back ground I could hear my extended family talking & laughing as Hank Williams ” Hey Good Lookin’ ” was being played on the air. That was in July over some 50 years ago…it seems just like yesterday…
Guitar.
Every note can be found on my wooden guitar that rhymes with the lyrics I’ve chosen to use on my guitar are six strings and frets that allow me to slide from chord to chord that enables me to complete the perfect tune for each work on each original tune. Each tune has it’s own different sound compared to songs that have the same tune, my guitar instructs me to find different sounds that’s soothing to my soul mind and spirit and allows me to be a musician at heart and a songwriter at heart… Honky Tonk’s to Blue Grass to Pop Country to Traditional Country, My guitar is my best friend when I’m feeling compelled to write.
My g string is private..
Guitar
For the oscillations of Asturias wouldn’t have been possible without your body close to mine, you complete me.
My dear old friend grumbles and demands
I dive down deep and breathe fully in
Its weathered face and fresh wood scent
Sweet, sweet strings with their hidden song
Begging to be born on this cool, crisp morn
You wait, patiently, for my return – and I know that you are there,
Wanting me to hold you, that body, just for me to share,
You wrap around my shoulders, My fingers rub your neck just right,
And, when your sound fills my soul?
When I feel it overflow?- I’ll sing to you tonight,
Yes, I’ll sing for you tonight.
You make the sound I love, your ‘six hearts’ sing to me so right,
You know what you do to my soul,
And you know, I’ll sing for you tonight . . .
Six hearts’ I strum, they sound so soft, but bright,
When I hear, I can’t help but sing for you tonight.
I feel you in my fingers, hands, all the way to my toes,
I feel your sound, I see it here-there, everywhere it goes,
Right then, I know that You will play for me tonight,
And right then I know, that WE together, we will get it right.
So, If you hear music, it is me and my best friend,
I can tell you this – Our songs, the WE – that will never end,
And, what you hear?
It is our sound, our songs, Who are WE? And, if we parted?
It was me, my musical soul and a true Star – My Six-Hearted Guitar.
When I look at my F-340, I see love. She’s the first present my wife ever game me. A birthday present in 1977. My first guitar. We were dating, and I’d marry her a year later. I can still see my wife looking at me as I played for her while we were dating.
When I touch her, I touch my life. Fogelberg, Taylor, and The Eagles then. Janson, Church, and Stapelton now. All the others in between, like silence between the notes.
When I smell her, I smell peace. The alone time practicing. The calm playing old favorites. Strumming her leaves the stress of the day behind and gives hope to the future.
When I taste her, I taste nicotine. It’s what I did for decades. I’ve laid them down over ten years now, but when I open the case there’s still that faint hint that wafts past my nose. For a short space of time my taste buds anticipate the smoke floating over them one more time for that last fix an addict always wants.
And when I hear her, I hear life. Laughter from years past. Sing-alongs from “Low Place.” The “yes” to my marriage proposal all those years ago after playing “Looking for a Lady” by Fogelberg.
Just like my wife, she gets better with age, and I love her more each year.
The luthier spent many precise hours giving that mahogany body a smooth, sleek finish. And within a few months there are enough nicks and abrasions to make it feel back at home in the forest with its other deep-rooted, rough-barked friends. The smell of warm coffeeshops in cold mountain towns escapes as the sticker-covered case is unbuckled with metallic snapping. Its neck feels as if it was formed in the womb attached to my fretboard hand. The sounds of bustling city sidewalks emanate from the soundhole and fill the cavernous concrete of the subway station. The clinking of quarters dropping on nickels and dimes in a hard guitar case triggers my salivary glands to deliver the taste of an in-and-out burger.
