(- REDUX 2019 -)
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
rendered by: rob kistner © 2007
Excellent! Very Well Done!
I am celebrating my first anniversary having moved to the West Coast from Chicago last August 18th. So many things out here I love and cherish dearly but one thing I miss and will not find out here often is the soul of the Blues. I miss stopping at a dive after work and losing own impoverished self in the music of another who lives and works the same. I have had the joy of experiencing that with all my time spent down South in New Orleans as well and cherish those memories just the same.
Thanks for this beautiful piece!
Tag –
Thank you! You are most kind.
…and you are welcome… 😉 I enjoyed creating this piece, especially the ‘spoken word’ production.
My wife and I have lived in the Pacific Northwest for 18 years now, and we absolutely love it!
However, in the decade of the 80’s, I had a satellite office in Chicago for my media-room/home-theater design company. The office was manned by an associate, but I visited the ‘windy city’ frequently.
Greg used to take me to a number of marvelous blues joints, with the most soulful ambiance and real character. Those nights (into early mornings) were the greatest!
There was wonderful jazz in chi-town as well! One jazz place I remember, whose name I can’t recall, was up north of the city just a bit, along the Lake Michigan shore, nestled among apartments. It was at the intersection of oddly divergent streets.
The club was not big, and sort of pie shaped — with a low ceiling. You entered at the tip of the pie. Very intimate room with really great jazz. Ahh… memories!
I love your work. I am just passing through but wanted to give you a shout out.
deb –
Thank you… come back now… 😉
You are an authentic talent. Listening to this poem as you read it truly helped me appreciate its authenticity, it’s concreteness, the real feel of the blues.
I read Swept Away initially and I enjoyed it. But your reading showed me your interpretation and deepened my understanding of your words.
Loved it!
Peace,
L&T
L&T –
Thank you so much for your kind words! 😉
It was fun to read the comments and here the background of the piece as well.
What a lovely baritone voice! It gave a much deeper dimension to the poem. The rave reviews aren’t by mistake!
The guitar, of all instruments, goes directly from sound to soul. Otto and I own three old Martins. Thank you for this beautiful poem.
cracked and seasoned hands
reach
with suffered care
to wrap the fingerboard
in love
My favorite part. Well done.
Swept –
This is a strange source for a comment?
Texasblu –
Glad you enjoyed it… 😉
Granny –
First, think you for the kind words! Second — how absolutely rockin’ cool that you own two Martins!! 😉
Lilibeth –
Thank you… 😉
Rob, I just loved that! I read it first, and the description of his voice grabbed me particularly. Then, listening to your reading – you make a composition on another level entirely – the background music/sounds, your own voice! Marvellous!
Imelda –
You are most kind… 😉
I am genuinely pleased you enjoyed this work.
Beautiful music.
Beautiful language.
Beautiful images.
Beautiful voice.
I guess you can tell that I liked it!
This poem got a chills rating of ten from me. It kind of shook me up a little bit. I love the Guitar references. Only guitar players would know what a CF Martin is. I love the blues, being from the south, I think you captured the hearbeat of dirty south pain with this. I liked it very much.
Linda –
thank you!
thank you!
thank you!
thank you!
I hope you can tell I’m grateful… 😉
Henry –
glad you liked this man…
I enjoy the bold honesty of your work…
I have a 1958 Martin D-28 (Brazilian Rosewood) – pristine
• thanks for stoppin’ by…
…rob
Interesting poem. I have always been a lover of Nawlins jazz and blues. I have a friend who worked for Martin guitars and who manufactures hand made guitars.
Sounds like a cool friend Toni. When I first published “Swept Away” back in 2007 I added a spoken word recording I made with a former bandmate, a tremendous guitar player, playing a backhround of crisp thumping blues licks on his Martin – as I read my poem in tempo with his playing. I really liked it, but during a version update of my site platform 3 years ago, I lost the mp3 player I had embedded owing to incompatibility. I have yet to upgrade it. Been intending to since it happened, but, soon…
“His voice a tempered edge honed by blues”….I love that!
Thank you Sherry. I dug this old one to share for the prompt… 🙂
How wonderful! You bind us into the musical tilt of this sorrowful narration in a manner which is both evocative and emotive. I loved the short-lines, regular breaks in the rhythm, as well as the environment thus portrayed and the story thus told, just like a soul-stirring blues song.
Thank you Anmol. When I originally publidhed this on my site, I had a well revorded spoken word version of it that I had created with a good friend of mine, a tremendous blues guitar player, plsying his Martin guitar in the background. It ws excellent, but when I updated the platform version of the WORDPRESS app, I lost the mp3 plug-in, and haven’t been able to restore it. I have since lost the recording, but trying to find it. Anyway, thank you again for the kind words Amnol!
I enjoyed your write!! The “blues,” have “it!”
Thank you Annell. This was written years ago and inspired by an old blues player I knew back in my days in my rock band in the 1970’s. Fascinating soul.
An incredibly potent and soul-stirring write, Rob! Wow! 🙂
Thank you Sanaa, I appreciate your enthusiasm… 🙂 When I originally published this on my site in 2007, I had a well recorded spoken-word version of it I had created with a good friend of mine, a tremendous blues guitar player, playing his Martin guitar in the background. It Was lost when I updated my site. I haven’t been able to find it to restore it. I hoe to soon? Anyway, thank you again for the kind words Sanaa! 🙂
You paint a full and rich picture, so many colors, textures and sounds. By the way, I have always thought The Tuesday Platform at Toads was an open link day for any poem, old or new, and not a prompt. All these years, have I misunderstood? Here’s what the mission statement says: The Tuesday Platform provides an unrestricted forum for sharing work of the poet’s choice.
You are right on Colleen, I am new to TOADS, and I am the one who misunderstood. I am used to most everything bring prompts on dVerse. Sorry for being confusing.
????
Not sure where the question marks came from. I just wanted to say interesting post
Thank you Rommy.
If you tried to use emojis Rommy, all you will get is wuestion marks. My site platform is too old for emojis.
broadleaf husky
thick as sorghum
smooth as beale street bourbon… am sure I didn’t get every single cultural reference in your poem but it had a stirring beat that was totally enjoyable!
Glad you liked it Thot!
Love it all, your post, Rob, and all the blues singers and players. Their instruments also, they are sooo neat looking, each scar has a story. And when their fingers won’t work they still sing.
..
Singin’ their truth Jim, opening their soul…
You’ve encapsulated the blues so well in this tribute, Rob. I love the way you describe his eyes ‘turbulent as that river’ and his voice ‘a tempered edge…
broadleaf husky’ and ‘smooth as beale street bourbon’. You even personified his guitar, ‘marked and scarred by years of burden of witness’! But the thing that got to me, that I felt in my solar plexus, was in the lines:
‘rhythmic stomp
stinging verse
of broken promise
failed love’.
Glad this reonated so strongly for you Kim. In my many years in rock music, my band shared the bill with a mumber of genuine bluesman. The character in this poem was an amalgam of them, but most influenced by Muddy Waters and his Martin 00-18E acoustic-electric.
Oh, I love the blues and your descriptions in this poem really hit home. My husband and I travel with a blues artist whenever we can. There’s nothing like blues pain to weather the voice into gravely awesome!
Glad you liked this Susie…! 🙂
A wonderfully rich read… I felt quite transported by your words and the soul of the blues.
Thank you kerry!