Swept Away

  • A bluesman’s life and soul: “Music gives me goose-bumps, especially when created from the heart, by a genuine human spirit…”
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    Swept Away

    (- REDUX 2019 -)

    ~

    memphis red
    no longer is

    gray now shines
    from a balding head
    filled with scarlet embers

    memories still burn
    a fired spirit

    too deep for coddled mortals
    to fully fathom

    red is real
    red is legend

    his tales of pain
    of injustice
    the lore of the big muddy

    his eyes
    earthy brown
    turbulent as that river

    his stare
    a deep current
    impossible to escape
    you’re swept away

    his voice
    a tempered edge
    honed by blues

    broadleaf husky
    thick as sorghum
    smooth as beale street bourbon

    the cf martin
    swings from a leathered neck
    on a tattered strap
    stretched and shaped
    by the heft of sorrow
    poured into the soundhole

    marked and scarred
    by years of burden
    of witness

    its character and patina
    bear testament
    to a genuine soul

    cracked and seasoned hands
    reach with suffered care
    to wrap the fingerboard
    in love

    callused digits
    yellowed by habit
    depress taut strands
    no longer catgut

    blood and bone
    grip
    connect
    sculpting emotions

    true life
    ensnared in sitka spruce
    and spiraled steel

    knowing strains rise
    chords of loss

    rhythmic stomp
    stinging verse
    of broken promise
    failed love

    of dirt field
    cruel street
    back alley
    of harsh wisdom

    resonate to fill this space
    to break my heart
    to steal my soul

    swept away

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2007

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    photo rendering above entitled: “Knowing”
    rendered by: rob kistner © 2007

    Click here to read about more blues on TOAD

    Pantoumadness

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    Pantoumadness

    ~

    writing pantoums drives me ‘round the bends
    my mind’s strung out by poetry’s cruelest deed
    this cannot be the horror my muse intends
    if blood it wants I willingly concede

    my mind’s strung out by poetry’s cruelest deed
    if a pantoum’s owed it’s me who’ll make amends
    if blood it wants I willingly concede
    this crazy form – my mind, it’s turned on end

    if a pantoum’s owed it’s me who’ll make amends
    frustration chokes me like some poison seeds
    this crazy form – my mind, it’s turned on end
    my head’s collapsed, my jumbled mind it bleeds

    frustration chokes me like some poison seeds
    muse tell me – did the poet God’s I offend
    my head’s collapsed, my jumbled mind it bleeds
    a hopelessness inside me does distend

    oh tell me please – did the poet God’s I offend
    this cannot be the horror my muse intends
    a hopelessness inside me does distend
    yes, writing pantoums drives me ‘round the bends

    ~ ~ ~

    rob kistner © 2019

    D72E5CE7-F70F-4EFA-B9B8-5C48AC4F5171

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    Links to my other 3 Pantoums:
    1.) Seabed Sway
    2.) Flame Of Learning
    3.) Lady Blue

     

  • Click below to read more Pantoums at dVerse:

    Poetry Forms – The Pantoum