Fallen Star

One night I sat in New Pall Tavern
Playing my guitar
When stumbles forth a stooped old man
who's mind had gone too far
but he did play with passion clear
and entertained the crowd
not in his face did pass the fear
of the coward or the cowed

They say he's lost a screw or two
They say he's not all there
but when he picks up his guitar
He sings with no despair

His laughter flows through lyrics
That his mind will not forget
And when he's done a-singing
he smokes his cigarette



Poetry by ttius
Read 640 times
Written on 2014-07-17 at 02:10

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ken d williams The PoetBay support member heart!
This kind of reminds of an expreance I had 3/4 maybe even 5 yersa ago. I chap was ' playig '' violin in town. The violin oubdd sad and in pain. Then a Afro-British mother pushing her child in pushchire. she stoped , went up to the sad looimng vioinist , with a smile she took the violin of the sad looking busker. She tuckde the violing under her chin. SHe plide the violin , the violing came a live , so vibrant , so oncemore full of life. The sad looking walkers by. Stoped , glum looks disaperd , , fases and eyes , once more shone. The criude ds , lives took on meaning. Life was good. A mucical instermant no mater what that instremant maybe. When in the hands of those who care and love to make mousic. Can bring to life that instrermant. And those you not think of , to have The Gift , can do that as like that Afro-British mother of one.
Ken
2014-07-17