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Poem: Blues Man

His dark and weathered skin
Might be older than the street itself
Deep set eyes that have watched
As ages have come and gone
Fingers swollen with arthritis
Yet they move like a young man’s
When dancing along brass valves
That pull from those old memories
Playing out tunes vibrating
Between uproarious joy
And the deepest of blues
Feet tapping along side a case
Filled with crumpled dollars
Dirty coins from tourists
Who appreciate the change
He offers from mundane lives
Marked by silence of everyday
Not today where hearts are touched
Through those brassy notes
Changing them in one way or another
From secret smiles to obvious tears
Each wanting the music to continue
Throwing change to the blues man
To keep on blowing those songs

Copyright © 2021 TJS Sherman All rights reserved.


9 thoughts on “Poem: Blues Man

  1. A creative tribute to street musicians who may never earn fame or fortune, but they still touch hearts, maybe more so than others who wouldn’t last a day living that life. Was your poem inspired by someone in particular?


      1. Hard to compare to street musicians in New Orleans, I imagine. Mill Avenue, near ASU, always has a few and downtown Phoenix is similar. More during festivals, but those have been nonexistent.

        Liked by 1 person

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