Cheri Speak

Is this mic on?

Pickin’ on Me

Guitar Pickin

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Music surrounded me at all times as a child.

My mom also grew up with music surrounding her.

The same music.

The same memories.

I can still hear the chords of his guitar.

Each plucks at the strings of my memory with angst.

How can one cherish and appreciate the sound

yet abhor and fear so greatly the sound maker?

How did history repeat itself?


10 comments on “Pickin’ on Me

  1. seeker
    January 27, 2013

    Thanks for the pingback.


  2. lena de almeida
    January 28, 2013

    Thank you for the pingback 🙂


    • C. R.
      January 28, 2013

      You are very welcome. Enjoy 🙂


  3. AtomicNumber3
    November 22, 2013

    Simple, yet chilling. I felt that. We share very similar tragedies, indeed. Mine was my father’s father. I wrote about him in “To Kenny”. Thank you for sharing this.


    • Cheri
      November 22, 2013

      Sadly all of my Mom’s brothers…and boyfriends…were my a child. I grew up in a band family and music was the thing that saved my soul from withering away from 3 yrs old on … but the irony is the music I love so much the music that saved and continues to save my life …these people who did these horrible things are the very ones who gave me music….and Keep in mind, as an adult, I went into radio and stayed there for 20 years. I also sing and play loose hand drums.


  4. AtomicNumber3
    November 22, 2013

    That’s the hardest part about it sometimes, that we carry a part of them inside us, no matter how much we would like to purge them completely. The Music is not the Monster. People are always the Monster. It’s very cool that you own it now. 🙂


  5. AtomicNumber3
    November 22, 2013

    *that you own the music, that is – 🙂


  6. Pingback: A Poetic Duet With JaneyBGood – “Murdering It On Karaoke Night” | toofulltowrite (I've started so I'll finish)

Now it's my turn to listen...

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