Blues Man

A Poem by Lepadah

Why do the blues hum
Breaking the morning sun
Sweeping over fields
Along the dusk tracks
Outside a lonely shack
On any given day you can hear blues man Willie
Playing easy off his threadbare guitar
Notorious for his field holler...
Hands rough from years being a mule skinner
Cotton picker
Holler willie to the heavens
Well over eighty
August appearance
I sat hiding under a straw hat from the scorch of the sun
Baring down
Burning thru to my very bones
Blues painting uncomfortable images
Dredging up memories to hard to forget
Braided into a history of slavery
Blood cotton balls lacework into generations
Willie sang steady
Sometime talked tween gin breaks
Licking the heat from his lips
With a whoa...
His picking chords to my heart
Real slow
Real hard
Easy
These blues are my grand daddy's
Our story told
Past on from one to another
Humming cross country
Thru waters
Over mountains
Thru trees
Into our home
These are Willie blues

By Lepadah

Dedicated to Mr. Willie J North Carolinas finest.

Thank you