Lady Blues


Original digital realistic art entitled “Lady Blues” by: rob kistner © 7/27/23
 

S omewhere
between the creole shadow
of Basin Street 2nd line juju
and the hell-raised echo
of the hollered anguish
of Beal Street’s blues

in a phantom sanctum
on the creaked-wood
beer-stained slat floor
of a temple of brown whisky
and steel-lance escape

at the down and desperate
sorrowing hour of 3:00 am
they were all there together
crowded into my aching brain
to forget

when heaven cracked open a door

as the tears of loss fell
and hurtin’ broke souls moaned
a melancholy dream
smiled upon the players

those with the gift of music
and upon those
come just to huddle
in the smoky haze
and sour-sweet darkness
of human need and frailty

as the band played on
devils danced with angels
till dawn
and the demon-fire paused
for a raw
glorious night
as lady blues
sang of release
n’mornin’ light


Original digital watercolor:
“Practice” by: rob kistner © 7/27/23

*
rob kistner © 7/27/23
Poetry at: dVerse




* NEXT: 2023 Grammy Award Winning “Song Of The Year”
I dedicate this to the memory of my son Aaron Robert Kistner

18 thoughts on “Lady Blues”

  1. Oh yes, Rob, a bluesy poem to end the poetry week! I love the rhyme and rhythm of ‘in a phantom sanctum
    on the creaked-wood
    beer-stained slat floor’
    and the sounds in:
    ‘and hurtin’ broke souls moaned
    a melancholy dream’.

  2. Rob, really love your digital artistry with the musicians. So many passed on from this world but their music continues in the next and beyond. Bonnie Raitt is one of my favorite female blues artist. Have worn the grooves off of her albums.

    1. She is a master Lisa. Glad you dug this… 🙂

      BTW — Here are a couple examples of the strange digital art pieces I created for this poem, before I finally got my extrapolation prompt code lines tight and focused.

    1. Very cool Ron. I never played Beale St, but in the 1970’s, when my band was giggin’ outta Cincinnati, I played a couple times about 3 hrs east of Memphis along I-40, on a less famous thoroughfare in Tennessee called Elliston Pl, at a club called Exit/In — in Nashville. I drove down to dig the music scene several times on Beale Street, but never played. I always felt a reincarnate twinge.

  3. Rob, what a fabulous poem. And the rhythm flows. I loved this so much: “as the band played on
    devils danced with angels
    till dawn
    and the demon-fire paused
    for a raw
    glorious night…”

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