The Bluekelele

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Last year, I started teaching myself to play the ukulele. I bought a cheap, blue ukulele off my friend and named it the Bluekelele. This poem is not a true telling of my time with the Bluekelele. I just liked the word so I wanted to use it!

The Bluekelele

A ukulele player brought
His instrument around
Bright blue, of wood and plastic wrought
It made a tinny sound
My Bluekelele’s singing
Do you hear the words it’s saying?
Do you hear the chords I’m Playing?
Do you feel the joy it’s bringing?

‘Bluekelelist,’ I replied,
‘Get gone, get lost, get packing
Aught in which you should take pride
Your instrument is lacking’
My Bluekelele’s crying
Do you see the tears it’s shedding?
Do you sense the dark it’s dreading?
Do you see the death it’s dying?

‘Enough of that,’ I swiftly snapped,
‘No need for melodrama!’
Upon the instrument I rapped
‘My words  aren’t gonna harm ‘er’
My Bluekelele’s grieving
Do you hear the noise it’s making?
Do you feel the heart that’s breaking?
Do you see that we are leaving?

And just like that, the man was gone
The Bluekelele too
And yet, as he was walking on
I thought I heard it coo
By all you hold above you
Don’t you know what you’re declining?
Don’t you care that I’m resigning?
Don’t you know how much I love you?

I chased, but of my own accord
When offered love, I’d sinned
All that remained, a fading chord
A whisper on the wind
My Bluekelele’s screaming
Do you hear it’s torn apart?
Do you see you held it’s heart?
Do you see the tears still streaming?

Months on from this, I made amends
I bought a Newkelele
I gathered all my dearest friends
And took them to a ceilidh
My Newkelele’s singing
Do you hear the words it’s saying?
Do you hear the chords I’m playing?
Do you feel the joy it’s bringing?

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It’s ok. He’s a glasses half full kinda guy

 

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