The first time l ever even touched an acoustic guitar, was because of a girl. Not one l was trying to woo mind you, one that broke my heart. Yes, that is not much better in terms of cliche, but the truth is the truth… for the most part. So, anyway, this girl broke my heart and l was trying to learn guitar to try to forget her or to get her back or something along those lines. lt all sort of blurs together now. I didn’t find any solace in music, none that l can remember at least, but this guitar did do one thing. It got me thinking. While l was playing it l started to wonder what this would do to me later in life, if l would even have a career in music or in art if that. Then it hit me: What the hell was l going to do with my life? Nothing to the point of an existential crisis, just enough to make me constantly worry. And worry. And worry. There would be days where l would do nothing but think about how l would or even could carve out a place in the world for myself. Just a small niche, l would think to myself, someplace that isn’t complicated. That was around the time l decided to run away.
He sat with his acoustic guitar cradled on his lap. His mind wandered back to the first time he ever held a guitar. His grandfather had been sitting beside him, humming a soft tune. They had been on the front porch swing at his grandfather’s childhood home.
acoustic. music is the best. the versions are more heartfelt. not so robotic. not tampered with. just raw. and beautiful. and those are the best things to delve into. because it makes you feel okay to be raw and feel beautiful.
music is like dancing in the sense that it’s a way to express something that tends to be very difficult to put into words. art. love. necessary.
and when i tapped on your bones, an acoustic sound;
and when i washed you (in tap water, in the sink) turned you over in my hands again, (i tried not to let you see me cringe)
but i’m afraid i washed away a flower blooming from your shoulder
my brothers guitar is acoustic. The one filled with teardrops. The one he used to play. The one that he loved, the one his girlfriend got him. The one I will never hear him play again….
The one, where my tears have dropped. But now, its a reminder that he’s gone, not the one i loved to hear him play.
i play music. i breathe music. i begin at acoustic. something simple, something free, something that closes its eyes with me and lets me continue on. i remember where it began. i know it won’t end.
Her voice was acoustic and vibrant. Her exuberant tones rang out and drove away all the fears of my life. He voice was stern and gentle and comforting, the woman was black, she wore a large flowing dress and large flowery hat, she wore two pistols at her belt.
acoustic music is real. it is soothing and raw. there is no autotune, no fake instruments. Just you, and the music. it is refreshingly real, how music should be. it reminds us of a simpler time, of a better time, a better sound.
i have an acoustic guitar, i dont know what to write about though it just says to write about the word that pops up and its acoustic but im listening to music but is has no acoustic guitar in it with the mellow sound of it. so i tend to go off topic because im ADD o_o acoustic lol idk what to write anymore so im just babbling right now
I think back on those days. The days you used to sit near me, you hands hot on my body. The days we made love. The days I sat singing as you played your acoustic. Back before you broke me in two. I miss those days.
do you remember that time you tried to get me to play an instrument? not because i wanted to, but because you felt that i would be a better person if perhaps i knew how to express my feelings through the sultry notes of a golden necked tuba or the light fairy-like tones of a piano. acoustic thoughts would fill my heads and i would no longer be confused and a mistake.
i’ve been jumping form the tops of buildings, for the thrill of the fall, ignoring sound advce, and any thought of consequence. my bones are shattered, my pride is shattered. and in the midst of this self inflicted pain, i can see my beautiful rescue. i’m falling more in love, with every single word i withhold. and i’m falling more in love with every single word you say, i’m falling head over heels for you….. my beautiful rescue: this providence.
naked, reaching, filling the room with it’s vulnerable sound the guitar strings pluck at my heart and awaken my conscience to stretch, reach towards this sound that is so pure, so open, so ready to take me in and surround with simplistic ebb and flow of instrument and voice and audience.
The kind of music I dislike the most. It sounds less real than other forms of music, and I have no idea why. Some of it is pretty good, but for the most part I just don’t like it.
The wedding had been beautiful. The lights were hanging in waving lines and soft music came from an acoustic guitar seated in the corner. But few eyes were on the lights, the guitarist or the decorations. They were all on the blushing bride entering the hall.
He used to play guitar to me. He was extremely talented, and could play almost anything. The first time I heard him play I was mesmerized, unable to comprehend where this beautiful sound was coming from. Everywhere I went I could hear him play, and sometimes sing. He’d sing to me sometimes.
am i writing a story here? once upon a time, there was an acoustic guitar. her name was sally. some acoustic guitars get to be worn and have holes in them, or get to have strings broken as they are bashed around a stage. sally was not one of those guitars. instead sally spent most of her days inside the music store, waiting for a love like that one. she watched day in and day out as customers came in and looked at the guitars on the wall. occasionally, someone would play a few chords on her brand new strings, but they would always put her back afterwards, choosing a different friend from off of the wall.
It was to be a large party, over twenty guests, including five kids under the age of four. I knew in advance that the acoustics of this place did not lend themselves to such a party and yet, again, i invited them over for a bite. Yikes, after an hour,i went out of my mind
again this word ? well, I alreday wrote that songs in acoustic are the better ones because it feels like the voice is much clearer and the instruments are able to ‘connect’ more. I always think that the voice sounds better in acoustic. That’s why I hate electronic music, it’s just useless, you can’t hear what’s the real voice of the singer. Without talking about the lyrics, who are really stupid, but that’s not the point.
I plucked the D string of my cello. It resonated and I could feel the mellow vibrations down into my bones. It was warming and soothing and I knew that everything would be alright.
guitars are really not as good as the electric guitars, why is it every time you go to a bonfire there is one idiot that brings an acoustic guitar and trys to sing and make everyone else uncomfortable singing with them…. coum-by- ya anyone?
When I hear the word acoustic I think of guitars, good music, and good food by the water with sunset and a guy singing and playing his guitar in the background while I eat and laugh with my friends.
i love when justin bieber plays acoustic guitar and i love the word acoustic it reminds me of good singing and flowers i like this type of music the best because it is the most clear it is so real and the most breathtaking for me i love hearing and playing it.
acoustic
acoutsticacousticacoutsticawhy ami doing this? hmmm… what am i supposetod do? Acoustic reminds me aof horrible music. I like drums and beats I can understand that you know? Beats. Since I can’t hear. beats as in musc
I can see my acoustic guitar from where I am sitting. It was really cheap, but Hannah bought it so I love it. Because I love her. A lot. I never play it, although I really wish that I would. Maybe I could be good at something.
acoustic, raw sounds. That is the best. its lets me know the artist is real. Its the real raw sounds of how they were supposed to be intended. Its the best way to hear the sounds. just a guitar and a voice. Its how it is the most beautiful. :)
William could remember the day he had found the guitar with startling clarity, considering the way all of his memories were beginning to bleed into each other. It had been one of the few things remaining in his father’s little hidden corner of the basement, and he had picked it up with the intention of throwing it away with the rest of the sour emotions. There had been something about it, though, something that made him sling it over his back and carry it up to his bedroom.
When he walked in, Jesse had looked up with those innocent eyes of his.
“You’ve learned well.”
“And that means?”
Jesse grinned.
“Come on, little brother. Guitars pick up chicks.”
Love love love love. Like an albino tiger, different and odd. But beautiful and fierce in its own way. It has the same stripes and the same claws, but its beauty is different, less obvious. It makes you really look at it, listen to it. and think.
He strums the string with such a grace
A serene smile on his face
His love in his words I hear
His heart laid out there so dear
His acoustic guitar is so pristine
I will always smile at what we have seen
the feeling i get when i listen to real good music, goosebumps appear on my arm and my heart can’t contain the feeling, crying when i hear music so good, it changes my life. music is life.
The sounds are echoing in my ears, reverberating out, making noise, vibrations, echos in my ear canal, coming out in sounds, music, laughter, tears. Hilarity ensued. The sound of the vibrations beating against my skull, just waiting, listening, coming out again, can’t stop them, can’t even be with out them, it will never be silent, ever.
live guitar sessions, in dark little places, all full of smoke and people holding beers and humming out of tune. good people. good music, a good feeling. intense.
The simple, sweet, soothing melody fills my veins, a bright soul filled light shines from above. This is what music is all about. The pure, clear, sound is all that you need, a beacon of hope among the rap filled, trashy lyrics that pound through the speakers of teenagers.
little notes drop from the above every night. midnight strikes with the familiar tune of landslide playing overhead. she takes her cue and jumps into the bathtub. funny, even over the sound of rushing water, the bathroom is the place where the guitar sounds the most clear.
As Ben Gibbard strummed his acoustic guitar, all of my worries were set aside and i felt at peace.
The first time l ever even touched an acoustic guitar, was because of a girl. Not one l was trying to woo mind you, one that broke my heart. Yes, that is not much better in terms of cliche, but the truth is the truth… for the most part. So, anyway, this girl broke my heart and l was trying to learn guitar to try to forget her or to get her back or something along those lines. lt all sort of blurs together now. I didn’t find any solace in music, none that l can remember at least, but this guitar did do one thing. It got me thinking. While l was playing it l started to wonder what this would do to me later in life, if l would even have a career in music or in art if that. Then it hit me: What the hell was l going to do with my life? Nothing to the point of an existential crisis, just enough to make me constantly worry. And worry. And worry. There would be days where l would do nothing but think about how l would or even could carve out a place in the world for myself. Just a small niche, l would think to myself, someplace that isn’t complicated. That was around the time l decided to run away.
He sat with his acoustic guitar cradled on his lap. His mind wandered back to the first time he ever held a guitar. His grandfather had been sitting beside him, humming a soft tune. They had been on the front porch swing at his grandfather’s childhood home.
acoustic. music is the best. the versions are more heartfelt. not so robotic. not tampered with. just raw. and beautiful. and those are the best things to delve into. because it makes you feel okay to be raw and feel beautiful.
music is like dancing in the sense that it’s a way to express something that tends to be very difficult to put into words. art. love. necessary.
and when i tapped on your bones, an acoustic sound;
and when i washed you (in tap water, in the sink) turned you over in my hands again, (i tried not to let you see me cringe)
but i’m afraid i washed away a flower blooming from your shoulder
A.C.O.U.S.T.I.C.
Alexandrea
Coulter
Offered
Us
Starbucks
Trademark
Iced
Coffee
my brothers guitar is acoustic. The one filled with teardrops. The one he used to play. The one that he loved, the one his girlfriend got him. The one I will never hear him play again….
The one, where my tears have dropped. But now, its a reminder that he’s gone, not the one i loved to hear him play.
golden eyelashes
sun burnt hair
bare feet
calloused
strings in hand
breathe in
and out
and feel that music
flow
through
your nervous system
i play music. i breathe music. i begin at acoustic. something simple, something free, something that closes its eyes with me and lets me continue on. i remember where it began. i know it won’t end.
Her voice was acoustic and vibrant. Her exuberant tones rang out and drove away all the fears of my life. He voice was stern and gentle and comforting, the woman was black, she wore a large flowing dress and large flowery hat, she wore two pistols at her belt.
acoustic music is real. it is soothing and raw. there is no autotune, no fake instruments. Just you, and the music. it is refreshingly real, how music should be. it reminds us of a simpler time, of a better time, a better sound.
i have an acoustic guitar, i dont know what to write about though it just says to write about the word that pops up and its acoustic but im listening to music but is has no acoustic guitar in it with the mellow sound of it. so i tend to go off topic because im ADD o_o acoustic lol idk what to write anymore so im just babbling right now
I think back on those days. The days you used to sit near me, you hands hot on my body. The days we made love. The days I sat singing as you played your acoustic. Back before you broke me in two. I miss those days.
do you remember that time you tried to get me to play an instrument? not because i wanted to, but because you felt that i would be a better person if perhaps i knew how to express my feelings through the sultry notes of a golden necked tuba or the light fairy-like tones of a piano. acoustic thoughts would fill my heads and i would no longer be confused and a mistake.
i’ve been jumping form the tops of buildings, for the thrill of the fall, ignoring sound advce, and any thought of consequence. my bones are shattered, my pride is shattered. and in the midst of this self inflicted pain, i can see my beautiful rescue. i’m falling more in love, with every single word i withhold. and i’m falling more in love with every single word you say, i’m falling head over heels for you….. my beautiful rescue: this providence.
naked, reaching, filling the room with it’s vulnerable sound the guitar strings pluck at my heart and awaken my conscience to stretch, reach towards this sound that is so pure, so open, so ready to take me in and surround with simplistic ebb and flow of instrument and voice and audience.
guitar, peaceful, beautiful, deep, diciplined, skillful
The kind of music I dislike the most. It sounds less real than other forms of music, and I have no idea why. Some of it is pretty good, but for the most part I just don’t like it.
The wedding had been beautiful. The lights were hanging in waving lines and soft music came from an acoustic guitar seated in the corner. But few eyes were on the lights, the guitarist or the decorations. They were all on the blushing bride entering the hall.
He used to play guitar to me. He was extremely talented, and could play almost anything. The first time I heard him play I was mesmerized, unable to comprehend where this beautiful sound was coming from. Everywhere I went I could hear him play, and sometimes sing. He’d sing to me sometimes.
music makes me bop without electricity. Sounds vibrate against my skin and make me feel energized. My favorite music is acoustic.
am i writing a story here? once upon a time, there was an acoustic guitar. her name was sally. some acoustic guitars get to be worn and have holes in them, or get to have strings broken as they are bashed around a stage. sally was not one of those guitars. instead sally spent most of her days inside the music store, waiting for a love like that one. she watched day in and day out as customers came in and looked at the guitars on the wall. occasionally, someone would play a few chords on her brand new strings, but they would always put her back afterwards, choosing a different friend from off of the wall.
It was to be a large party, over twenty guests, including five kids under the age of four. I knew in advance that the acoustics of this place did not lend themselves to such a party and yet, again, i invited them over for a bite. Yikes, after an hour,i went out of my mind
again this word ? well, I alreday wrote that songs in acoustic are the better ones because it feels like the voice is much clearer and the instruments are able to ‘connect’ more. I always think that the voice sounds better in acoustic. That’s why I hate electronic music, it’s just useless, you can’t hear what’s the real voice of the singer. Without talking about the lyrics, who are really stupid, but that’s not the point.
I plucked the D string of my cello. It resonated and I could feel the mellow vibrations down into my bones. It was warming and soothing and I knew that everything would be alright.
guitars are really not as good as the electric guitars, why is it every time you go to a bonfire there is one idiot that brings an acoustic guitar and trys to sing and make everyone else uncomfortable singing with them…. coum-by- ya anyone?
When I hear the word acoustic I think of guitars, good music, and good food by the water with sunset and a guy singing and playing his guitar in the background while I eat and laugh with my friends.
i love when justin bieber plays acoustic guitar and i love the word acoustic it reminds me of good singing and flowers i like this type of music the best because it is the most clear it is so real and the most breathtaking for me i love hearing and playing it.
acoustic
acoutsticacousticacoutsticawhy ami doing this? hmmm… what am i supposetod do? Acoustic reminds me aof horrible music. I like drums and beats I can understand that you know? Beats. Since I can’t hear. beats as in musc
I can see my acoustic guitar from where I am sitting. It was really cheap, but Hannah bought it so I love it. Because I love her. A lot. I never play it, although I really wish that I would. Maybe I could be good at something.
acoustic, raw sounds. That is the best. its lets me know the artist is real. Its the real raw sounds of how they were supposed to be intended. Its the best way to hear the sounds. just a guitar and a voice. Its how it is the most beautiful. :)
William could remember the day he had found the guitar with startling clarity, considering the way all of his memories were beginning to bleed into each other. It had been one of the few things remaining in his father’s little hidden corner of the basement, and he had picked it up with the intention of throwing it away with the rest of the sour emotions. There had been something about it, though, something that made him sling it over his back and carry it up to his bedroom.
When he walked in, Jesse had looked up with those innocent eyes of his.
“You’ve learned well.”
“And that means?”
Jesse grinned.
“Come on, little brother. Guitars pick up chicks.”
Love love love love. Like an albino tiger, different and odd. But beautiful and fierce in its own way. It has the same stripes and the same claws, but its beauty is different, less obvious. It makes you really look at it, listen to it. and think.
He strums the string with such a grace
A serene smile on his face
His love in his words I hear
His heart laid out there so dear
His acoustic guitar is so pristine
I will always smile at what we have seen
the feeling i get when i listen to real good music, goosebumps appear on my arm and my heart can’t contain the feeling, crying when i hear music so good, it changes my life. music is life.
The sounds are echoing in my ears, reverberating out, making noise, vibrations, echos in my ear canal, coming out in sounds, music, laughter, tears. Hilarity ensued. The sound of the vibrations beating against my skull, just waiting, listening, coming out again, can’t stop them, can’t even be with out them, it will never be silent, ever.
live guitar sessions, in dark little places, all full of smoke and people holding beers and humming out of tune. good people. good music, a good feeling. intense.
The simple, sweet, soothing melody fills my veins, a bright soul filled light shines from above. This is what music is all about. The pure, clear, sound is all that you need, a beacon of hope among the rap filled, trashy lyrics that pound through the speakers of teenagers.
little notes drop from the above every night. midnight strikes with the familiar tune of landslide playing overhead. she takes her cue and jumps into the bathtub. funny, even over the sound of rushing water, the bathroom is the place where the guitar sounds the most clear.
vibrations. guitars. vulnerable voices. it all goes straight to my heart and tugs at my heartstrings. love, it is love.