My pen is like a blues riff,
not always on the note
I bend within the moment,
new feelings reach for hope
A eulogy unspoken,
on fire around his bed
The Mojo dancing with the Muse,
Marine Band in my head
The words they stretch and vibrate,
a blind man theirs to read
They move in tribute off the page,
like Sonny’s orphaned reeds
My hand they cease to follow,
as letters wail and slide
And somewhere deep in Arkansas,
—the greatest harp just died
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
Blues Poem #10
Living hard,
the writing comes easy
Living easy,
the writing comes hard
(Villanova Pennsylvania: June, 2017)
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Author:
Kurt Philip Behm (
Offline) - Published: June 13th, 2017 10:31
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments2
"Summertime and the living is easy"
Love the metaphor of the blues riff.
Thanks, Man!
A tribute? Sonny Boy? I'm just throwing out guesses. You're fantastic and I'm sure you already know that. Poets sing all kinds of blues.
Thanks, Heather. Kudo's to you. Sonny Boy Williamson 1.
(John Lee Curtis).
He's been very special to me. He died the year I was born.
Kurt
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