grass roots, it is a very basic, country music genre, full of banjos. I don’t much care for it, but your grand mother might. Try to imagine the music from deliverance, its that music. battle of the banjos and shit.
Mr.Babb
She had heard the wind sing many types of songs, but that specific night, it sang bluegrass.And the music filled her dreams with sweetness, as it used to when sang by her mother.
debs
.MUSIC THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO DANCE .TAKES ME BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD
betty
MUSIC THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO DANCE .TAKES ME BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD
betty
Bluegrass music has been a large part of my life. Ever since I was old enough to play the banjo, I was out there strumming in front of our small farmhouse on the west side of the Mississippi. My Grandfather taught me how to play, back in the good ol’ days where kids respected their elders and actually took the time to listen to them.
Amber
“The grass is greener on the other side.” I remember him saying. But the grass was not greener, it was blue. I walk through it now, thinking of the bluegrass music I heard so many years ago. It seems to play on ion the back of my mind. I think of Neil, the fiddler in a bluegrass band, my only friend as a child and then the man I secretly loved as a woman. “I love you.” I say, and the words are lost in the wind, going to a place I hope is happier then this. BLUEGRASS,. BLUE GRASS. They seem to be popping up everywhere, pointing to Him. pointing to Neil.
Elsie
Oh, bluegrass music, how my husband hates you. He associates you with whining voices and screeching fiddles, but he has yet to discover the beauty of a high-lonesome or the winsomeness of a song of simple loneliness.
Bluegrass. Blue grass. That’s always been a funny word.
I’ve never been good at coming up with things on the spot. Improvisation has always been something that I felt was better left to the jazz artists, the saxes and trumpets wailing beyond the band room door – pianists with their hands brushing through sequences of gravity-defying, shimmering chords. It’s just something I can’t do. I need a sense of planning, direction, orientation, if I’m going to get anywhere.
Maybe bluegrass – lovely, spontaneous bluegrass! – will help me find a place to start.
bluegrass i sbeautiful abd sweet and lovely ad we love bluegrass a lot dont we kids?
dawn
bluegrass i sbeautiful abd sweet and lovely ad we love bluegrass a lot dont we kids?
dawn
The music was eerie, a hint of bluegrass. It was weird. She’d never heard music like it before. Her family was conservative, never let her watch tv, listen to music, chat on the phone with friends. This bluegrass music was something new to her. And it was right outside of her house.
The room was thick with cigar smoke and smelt of whisky. You could hear bluegrass softly playing in the room under the chatter and loud laughter. I made my way to the stage, running into a man who was just standing up. My guitar fell to the floor along with me.
There’s music playing off in the distance. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s there, making her remember things she’d rather not. Summer days, warm gold spreading over her shoulders, keeping her safe until dusk.
I could hear the footsteps coming faster. Cold clunks of metal chimed.
And the oddest thing grazed my ankles. It swayed in a breeze; blue grass. I spared a moment to look at it. It was a mistake I couldn’t take back.
I looked up. Looked it straight in the eyes. Each were as big as my head. Its breath was hot.
Mine was fast. And then existent.
Kellie H.
I dont even know what bluegrass is. I think its country. Ramin Karimaloo is a broadway star who do bluegrass music. I think that’s what his hashtags are. maybe its something else im not sure.
tori
Kentucky bluegrass. M favourite were the horses. But then I was always horse crazy. All those postcards I had to buy because I loved them so. Must have driven my parents nuts. Funny thing, though I loved to look at them, secretly I was scared of horses.
bluegrass somewhere south of here
there is a sound of home of living &
dying in the same place and sound
like a whistle a stomp a pat on the
back and a shovel a shovel a shovel
diggin
amber dawn
Grass that is blue would be beautiful as the music is. I would love to see it and to actually be able to rub my bare feet in it as well. That would be amazing if you could listen to Bluegrass while rubbing your bare feet in the grass.
Candice Payne
You wouldn’t think I would like bluegrass music but sometimes I do like country music because the songs tell a story.
Robin
i smiled as you turned
your face towards mine
and you smiled back
the grass here was more blue than green
and it complimented your eyes
and button down shirt
you looked so
beautiful
Claire
Blue grass is quite unordinary. It’s not something you’d usually see on a normal day. Maybe it was attacked by a nation of Smurfs!
jaidyn
Bluegrass was a way to see the world through. When you lay down in the cold grass to read Austen’s misery pour through your head. It breaks and converts into life. Laying in the bluegrass you will experience worlds out of your reach.
Ambar
Bluegrass music? Knowing nothing of American music, I’m clueless about this word. Blue tooth, yes. Do sad songs turn grass blue? Bluesy blue. Balsy blue. Blue-green algae. Blue, my ass.
Paul Eveleigh
I have no idea what bluegrass is but it reminds me of grass I saw on an alien planet once. I was just cruising around and there it was–BAM!–in the middle of the path. It smelled sweet and felt sticky.
MutatedPear
How blue is the bluegrass? Just a hint of aqua, not a true blue, a tried and true blue but with a hint of green when the sun hits at the blade in just the right way. A carpet of wonderful,
Jennifer Lemming
The music hummed softly in the distance. It reminded me of a better time, a more simple time. It reminded me of the time I sat with you under the hot, Louisiana sun and talked for hours. We we at peace.
bluegrass fills your nose and your mouth and your ears you feel it on your knees and in your throat the twang and the itch of it all, enveloping you like a familiar scratchy blanket, hovering thick in the air around you as you feel your heart swell and ache for something you don’t know yet or can’t know ever
Kelsey
my grandpa played bluegrass music
every weekend
for 40 years
then finally
he laid down his bass
gave me his guitar
he plays now
only 2 weekends a month
and hates the drive there
in the stadium the music mixed with the clouds, harmonizing guitar riffs with blades of grass and crumpled leaves. the banjo’s song ripped through the clouds and floated into our ears, piercing our insides with autumn air.
Lb
“Hey, you going to the bluegrass festival this weekend?”
“I dunno,” Charlotte replied. “I was thinking it. B.B. King’s gonna be there, right?”
“Chyeah. It’s a miracle he’s still alive and plucking at his guitar,” Todd smirked, settling down after grabbing a can of Miller from the fridge. “I want to go, but I’ve got no one to accompany me. Wanna change that?”
“Sure, why not? I could always enjoy the company of a blues buddy.”
Belinda Roddie
It was the music that my husband’s ancestors filled their lives with on a daily basis. It was the predecessor to jazz. It was in so many ways, a sound path to my finding him, on that Summer afternoon.
I WAS SITTING ACROSS THE BLUEGRASS, THINKING ABOUT HOW MY MOOD COULD TOTALLY CHANGE THE SHAPES I SEE ON THE CLOUDS. FROM HORNS AND DOVES
Thabata
“Blue… grass.” Rory looked down at the ground exasperatedly. He should be used to this kind of thing. “What kind of planet has blue grass?” “Ask the Doctor,” Amy said. “I would, but, he’s not present at the moment,” Rory said.
i really don’t know what bluegrass is, so let’s pretend that my lawn just drank blueberry juice and became a strumpf.
Rita
So there’s only one specific word per day? Dissapointing. I hoped they would be randomized. I don’t even know what bluegrass is. I just realized how pessimistic I look through this text. Wow. Way to go, T.
I used to live in the Bluegrass State, Kentucky. But the grass was not blue. It was green. Lots of horses. No glue grass.
Sheila
Fingertips pricked on the edges of grass over and over and she strolls throughout the oceanic meadow. letting her hands dangle free on the tips. The blue grass maze.
grass roots, it is a very basic, country music genre, full of banjos. I don’t much care for it, but your grand mother might. Try to imagine the music from deliverance, its that music. battle of the banjos and shit.
She had heard the wind sing many types of songs, but that specific night, it sang bluegrass.And the music filled her dreams with sweetness, as it used to when sang by her mother.
.MUSIC THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO DANCE .TAKES ME BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD
MUSIC THAT MAKES YOU WANT TO DANCE .TAKES ME BACK TO MY CHILDHOOD
Bluegrass music has been a large part of my life. Ever since I was old enough to play the banjo, I was out there strumming in front of our small farmhouse on the west side of the Mississippi. My Grandfather taught me how to play, back in the good ol’ days where kids respected their elders and actually took the time to listen to them.
“The grass is greener on the other side.” I remember him saying. But the grass was not greener, it was blue. I walk through it now, thinking of the bluegrass music I heard so many years ago. It seems to play on ion the back of my mind. I think of Neil, the fiddler in a bluegrass band, my only friend as a child and then the man I secretly loved as a woman. “I love you.” I say, and the words are lost in the wind, going to a place I hope is happier then this. BLUEGRASS,. BLUE GRASS. They seem to be popping up everywhere, pointing to Him. pointing to Neil.
Oh, bluegrass music, how my husband hates you. He associates you with whining voices and screeching fiddles, but he has yet to discover the beauty of a high-lonesome or the winsomeness of a song of simple loneliness.
Blue grass. That’s what I saw as soon as a I stepped through the doors.
“Blue grass?” I ask myself.
Bluegrass. Blue grass. That’s always been a funny word.
I’ve never been good at coming up with things on the spot. Improvisation has always been something that I felt was better left to the jazz artists, the saxes and trumpets wailing beyond the band room door – pianists with their hands brushing through sequences of gravity-defying, shimmering chords. It’s just something I can’t do. I need a sense of planning, direction, orientation, if I’m going to get anywhere.
Maybe bluegrass – lovely, spontaneous bluegrass! – will help me find a place to start.
bluegrass i sbeautiful abd sweet and lovely ad we love bluegrass a lot dont we kids?
bluegrass i sbeautiful abd sweet and lovely ad we love bluegrass a lot dont we kids?
The music was eerie, a hint of bluegrass. It was weird. She’d never heard music like it before. Her family was conservative, never let her watch tv, listen to music, chat on the phone with friends. This bluegrass music was something new to her. And it was right outside of her house.
The room was thick with cigar smoke and smelt of whisky. You could hear bluegrass softly playing in the room under the chatter and loud laughter. I made my way to the stage, running into a man who was just standing up. My guitar fell to the floor along with me.
There’s music playing off in the distance. She doesn’t know where it’s coming from, but it’s there, making her remember things she’d rather not. Summer days, warm gold spreading over her shoulders, keeping her safe until dusk.
I could hear the footsteps coming faster. Cold clunks of metal chimed.
And the oddest thing grazed my ankles. It swayed in a breeze; blue grass. I spared a moment to look at it. It was a mistake I couldn’t take back.
I looked up. Looked it straight in the eyes. Each were as big as my head. Its breath was hot.
Mine was fast. And then existent.
I dont even know what bluegrass is. I think its country. Ramin Karimaloo is a broadway star who do bluegrass music. I think that’s what his hashtags are. maybe its something else im not sure.
Kentucky bluegrass. M favourite were the horses. But then I was always horse crazy. All those postcards I had to buy because I loved them so. Must have driven my parents nuts. Funny thing, though I loved to look at them, secretly I was scared of horses.
bluegrass somewhere south of here
there is a sound of home of living &
dying in the same place and sound
like a whistle a stomp a pat on the
back and a shovel a shovel a shovel
diggin
Grass that is blue would be beautiful as the music is. I would love to see it and to actually be able to rub my bare feet in it as well. That would be amazing if you could listen to Bluegrass while rubbing your bare feet in the grass.
You wouldn’t think I would like bluegrass music but sometimes I do like country music because the songs tell a story.
i smiled as you turned
your face towards mine
and you smiled back
the grass here was more blue than green
and it complimented your eyes
and button down shirt
you looked so
beautiful
Blue grass is quite unordinary. It’s not something you’d usually see on a normal day. Maybe it was attacked by a nation of Smurfs!
Bluegrass was a way to see the world through. When you lay down in the cold grass to read Austen’s misery pour through your head. It breaks and converts into life. Laying in the bluegrass you will experience worlds out of your reach.
Bluegrass music? Knowing nothing of American music, I’m clueless about this word. Blue tooth, yes. Do sad songs turn grass blue? Bluesy blue. Balsy blue. Blue-green algae. Blue, my ass.
I have no idea what bluegrass is but it reminds me of grass I saw on an alien planet once. I was just cruising around and there it was–BAM!–in the middle of the path. It smelled sweet and felt sticky.
How blue is the bluegrass? Just a hint of aqua, not a true blue, a tried and true blue but with a hint of green when the sun hits at the blade in just the right way. A carpet of wonderful,
The music hummed softly in the distance. It reminded me of a better time, a more simple time. It reminded me of the time I sat with you under the hot, Louisiana sun and talked for hours. We we at peace.
Mixed roots. Yeh. He could relate to that.
bluegrass fills your nose and your mouth and your ears you feel it on your knees and in your throat the twang and the itch of it all, enveloping you like a familiar scratchy blanket, hovering thick in the air around you as you feel your heart swell and ache for something you don’t know yet or can’t know ever
my grandpa played bluegrass music
every weekend
for 40 years
then finally
he laid down his bass
gave me his guitar
he plays now
only 2 weekends a month
and hates the drive there
in the stadium the music mixed with the clouds, harmonizing guitar riffs with blades of grass and crumpled leaves. the banjo’s song ripped through the clouds and floated into our ears, piercing our insides with autumn air.
“Hey, you going to the bluegrass festival this weekend?”
“I dunno,” Charlotte replied. “I was thinking it. B.B. King’s gonna be there, right?”
“Chyeah. It’s a miracle he’s still alive and plucking at his guitar,” Todd smirked, settling down after grabbing a can of Miller from the fridge. “I want to go, but I’ve got no one to accompany me. Wanna change that?”
“Sure, why not? I could always enjoy the company of a blues buddy.”
It was the music that my husband’s ancestors filled their lives with on a daily basis. It was the predecessor to jazz. It was in so many ways, a sound path to my finding him, on that Summer afternoon.
I lay on the bluegrass with my mother.
I WAS SITTING ACROSS THE BLUEGRASS, THINKING ABOUT HOW MY MOOD COULD TOTALLY CHANGE THE SHAPES I SEE ON THE CLOUDS. FROM HORNS AND DOVES
“Blue… grass.” Rory looked down at the ground exasperatedly. He should be used to this kind of thing. “What kind of planet has blue grass?” “Ask the Doctor,” Amy said. “I would, but, he’s not present at the moment,” Rory said.
i really don’t know what bluegrass is, so let’s pretend that my lawn just drank blueberry juice and became a strumpf.
So there’s only one specific word per day? Dissapointing. I hoped they would be randomized. I don’t even know what bluegrass is. I just realized how pessimistic I look through this text. Wow. Way to go, T.
I used to live in the Bluegrass State, Kentucky. But the grass was not blue. It was green. Lots of horses. No glue grass.
Fingertips pricked on the edges of grass over and over and she strolls throughout the oceanic meadow. letting her hands dangle free on the tips. The blue grass maze.