Blues Poetry – Bluesman

Bluesman

Bluesman

He’s just
Any old man
In any old bar
With a guitar

Then a drunk
Comes up and say’s
Play us a barre

Every line on his face
Is a hook
For a book

Every crease in his neck
Is for the pain
He had to take

So he didn’t care
About some young drunk
He just pulled up a chair

He started to play

People could do nothing but stare
At the sweet sound
Of misery and despair

As the bluesman played
The drunk fell to his knees
Tears of respect
Rolled down his face
As he felt the bluesmans fears

He took him to places he’d never been
He took him back
With the sweet sound of home
He took him
To where he had grown

His name
Was bluesman Jack