it has been sometime since francesa died
due to an accident
too poor, fragile, and worn
to survive
but i was assured she'd live on
through the children
and she was cheap
but i had been enchanted

so i made a sacrifice
and dona mercedes was born
and i wept the first time i held her
and touched her strings
for her song was much sweeter
and she was much stronger
and i protected her more carefully
and my love for the classical lover
grew tenfold

i was mystified.
i took to me a wife, but not her;
she remained my dear child
and my beloved wanted one like she
although not quite so fine
so michael came into our lives
although he is not as alive for her
while i do pour my soul
into my little dona

and a vision began to materialize
of my spirit life
and i remembered my musical gifts
and how there was a stringed friend
i loved best
i could just melt with it
and make love to it
and it would sing songs
that made the heavens weep
or blissfully dream

and last night the vision grew
more forceful
and i sobbed
and sobbed
and talked with my sweet eternal companion
who understood my stringed friend and i
and she unfolded the rest of the story
also lamenting the gift
she wanted to reclaim

she could sing until
everyone sighed, lost in a beauty of sound
so she knew my pain

but it still eats at me
it is the artist's hunger for the dream
i cannot be satisfied
you see, my friends, i want my gift back

13 responses total.

This is wonderfully emotional poetry.  Very Imagistic.  Good job.

I like it...I like it... am I right in guessing a guitar?

The only thing I'd change is line 2 - "due to an accident" sounds out of place
somehow, at least to me.  
Good stuff, though...

Yes.  Dona Mercedes is my guitar.  She is the first instrument I have 
ever really owned (although I don't think of it in terms of 'ownership') 
and the first instrument I have been deeply attached to.  I have enjoyed 
many of the other instruments I have played-- they speak of other 
aspects of me, I guess, but a guitar speaks very deeply to my soul.

Francesca was a 3/4 size given to me by my mother via my grandparents.  
Estimated value when it was in good condition-- about $40-50.  The line 
"due to an accident" may seem out of place and awkward, but that's what 
happened.  Perhaps I should phrase it differently.  I had a very poor 
guitar case and she fell out onto the hard concrete.  The top was 
immediately split in two places where it met the sides.

I didn't know she was such a cheaply made guitar, but I loved playing 
her and I literally grieved.  I found out that repairing her would cost 
half to a third of her value, so I had Kevin remove the strings and 
permitted him to donate her to the children's museum.

I had looked at Boogie Man's classical guitars before, but this time I 
was ready to buy.  To mend the grief, I had to bring another guitar in 
my life and 'bury' my poor Francesca.  I looked at the Prudencio Saez 
line and liked it-- the top of the line model-- a model 8, was 
recommended to me.  It had a beautiful Spanish cedar top and walnut 
sides and back (not the more coveted and expensive rosewood, but..).  I 
played it and wept, for the sound was so beautiful to me, so much finer. 
 Best of all, it was a $435 guitar being sold for $375.  So I bit the 
bullet, bought it, got a hardwood case to protect it well, and took it 
home.

Julie was a little upset I hadn't told her-- we were still engaged at 
the time, I think, but she helped me give her a name.

As for the rest of the poem, it's also part of the real life story and 
is quite literal.  Take it as you will, my friends.

Cool.  Nice to know that people are still naming their instruments...

Jon's instrument means so much to him, it seemed to me that she named 
herself.

Not really.  I have always admired B.B. King and Steve Ray Vaughn.  King 
named his f-hole soundboard electric-- you know her as Lucille-- and 
Vaughn referred to his first guitar as the best woman in his life.

I do not doubt that blues players value their guitars very much, 
especially these giants, but I wonder if they know the glories of 
classical.  The classic guitar has such a full, rich tone.  Segovia was 
rather disparaging in his attitudes towards the electric guitar, but he 
had a point in saying the poetry was robbed when it was electrified.  
The electric guitar speaks with a voice that is worlds apart from the 
classical.  Even steel-string acoustics have a very different sound, 
right down to the sounding boxes.

noice :)
falling in love happens in so many ways, why do people thinks it happens in
only one?  
i am glad that you found a guitar to play and i hope dona mercedes serves you
well :)

Oh, heck, electric guitars can be just as poetic; it's only poetry of a
different sort.

Depends on what you like.

All poetry is poetry.
It's just not MY poetry.

All music is music.
It's just not MY music.

All guitars are guitars.
They're just not MY guitar.

Art depends on people to make it art.
It depends on what you like.

Um, that too.

Dan, that was Andres Segovia talking, not me.  I'd tend to agree with 
you.  However, many guitarists enjoy the classical because it is so 
relaxing.

The part about my poetry, etc., however, was a pure Julieism.

(linked to the new poetry conf)

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