Mahogany-brown, heaven-sent,

My love

A sublime work of art

Perfect, so perfect.


Cloaked in black, like the night

My love, mahogany-brown

Every curve fitting in mine

The piece which completes my puzzle.


We don’t need violins and pianos,

My love, mahogany-brown

Symphonies play in our embraces,

And in the brushes of our fingertips.


Hollow inside but full, so full,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Richness flows into my soul,

Cathartic, lifting me from the world.


And even when my fingers are callused,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Smoothness will never roughen

Because immense purity is untouchable.


The neck’s slight tilt, the ivory marks,

My love’s mahogany-brown

Fretboard, oft caressed,

The six strings which lovingly

Callused these fingers

And brought out the melodies hiding


Both muse and music,

My love, mahogany-brown.


Got you at the end, didn’t I?

I’d like to interrupt me falling in love with my guitar to extend this little challenge to all of you- write a classic love poem with a twist at the end. It could be morbid, it could be funny, it could be melancholic, it could be none of the above- do as you please, but make sure it’s unexpected.

This is not a competition; just an activity for you to try out if you want. And if you try it out, do share your poems with me in the comments- I’d love to read what you came up with.

4 thoughts on “Mahogany-Brown

  1. sorry for being a thickhead but what was the twist? was it your love being a guitar (as opposed to a dark skinned person)? Because from the first line i knew that. [smug-face] [sunglasses emoji]

    Liked by 1 person

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