Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

Down and out blues
Weigh heavy as a sack of potatoes
On shoulders wearily in slump
Dow Jones fell like an old pine
Toppled like an old drunk on skid row
His heart still thumping
Like an old accordion
Played by a bowery boy
In his final gig of the year
Playing Auld Lang Syne
Whiskey hand tremors
From rocky roads
Walked with gait too proud
Fumed breath roaring
Sentimental tunes
Sung in lower keys
Gravelly voice pouring
With preacher’s fire
Wobbly feet rolling
Down wharf row
Where ship horns bleat
Old derelict depreciation
Plunging currency
Follows his wrinkled brow
His motley over coat
A royal bluff
For a folded hand

this is really great, john....it rolls like whitewater over the levees....
great pace and right on target....I like the way you tied the current economic disaster in this country to the plight of New Orleans....strong images throughout.....a pleasure to read.......

Saw, thank you for such an insightful read of my poem. I often think of the people in New Orleans and those I've met wandering the streets in rags. They are angels among us. I can only imagine how the economic downturn will affect the already devastated city. Thank you for reading my poem and your in depth comment.

John

Yeah this is one of the best of yours I've read..and they are all good my friend....
H

Hester, it feels good to hear that. Thank you my friend!

John