Thursday, January 20, 2011

Big man sings my blues - for Rory

Some parts of this may be a little contrived, but if ya don't know his music, you won't get it anyway. (

The unsheltered part of the beer garden
Is near empty

There are various groups under the
Covered part loudly
Playing pool
Watching the footy
Listening to the juke box

But I am out in the cold
Slight rain
Waiting for the big man on the stage
To open his throat

He does not disappoint

He never does

My voice is a waterfall
Pouring out along with his
A smile hurts my jaw

I only notice the rabble
Between songs
In the quiet anticipation

He hits a blues chord
And two lone dancers
Hit the floor before the stage

He’s leaving again
Touring the UK where they have
The taste
To know his work

This is his last gig in
My town for a while
But I smile knowing that
Some day
Some way
Some where
I will see him play again

But for now he battles
The racket
For there
Love in
This war
Against the juke box
Sport on the telly
And the locals talking
The few of us
For him

For the music man

Consummate professional
Continuing to tell the stories of his music
Put his all too
Face to the songs

Right at the end
The crowd realise
What I’ve known
For a decade
And hit the floor
Request encores when
He stops

Now understand as I do

That when a voice a big as
His heart
Rings out I don’t need
Two feathers

I know how to fly

And I realise that
I’m not out in the cold
After all

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