The simple strings draw me in.

Hearing the low drawl of the everyman,

settled behind the microphone.

Sitting there, high in stature.

Telling the story we all understand.


There is a dark smoke all around,

filling the air with stark emotion.

Liquid fire to douse the pain

of living what we see

are lined all over Mr. Bluesman’s face.


Words resonate to all of us

from his mouth and stringed instrument.

A bourbon adds to the confessional

about the pain and sorrow

that needs healing in the sermon.


Honesty and sincerity in his voice

knows all of our feelings

and we rejoice in his words

as Mr. Bluesman plays our story.


© 2014  Andrew Scott – Just a Maritime Boy 2014

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