I’m a sidewalk-chalk figure with a slide guitar
I’m a neon sign hanging by an all-night bar
I’m a bluesman’s ghost, I’m a soul in a jar
punching my ticket at the Soul Train Depot.
They laid me to rest in a pauper’s grave
The burial was free for a man who’d lived a slave
to the music that promised me my soul to save,
redeem my ticket at the Soul Train Depot.
Sketch me in pastels, just a faint outline
don’t fill me in ‘cause the music wasn’t mine
you know they all said it was just divine
and it held me a seat on the Soul Train Line.
--for Poefusion
Image courtesy of newjackrhyme
Collection available! Knocking from Inside
Monday, July 14, 2008
Soul Train Depot
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3 comments:
Very poignant response to this picture - especially the line "Don't fill me in 'cause the music wasn't mine"
This is so very much a Blues piece. I could sing it as I read it. Very nice.
Excellent Tiel. Your poem has a beat all its own. I especially liked the line Lirone pointed out. Nice job. Have a nice day.
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