Blues Poem by Stewart Watkins

Somberly and perpetually, it plays
Dark melodies in my days

Rumblings of guitar and piano play at distant
corners of my mind
Lingering concerts of sorrows so unkind

Willie Brown said, 'The blues ain't nothing but a good
man feeling bad.'
I want to be a good man; maybe this is why I'm
feeling sad

Deep, deeply in my soul
Cacophonic blasts so piercing and bold

Echoes of a distant and short past
Melancholic riffs, runs, and good licks long last

Blues,

Blues I did not choose
Instead, I was chosen

So many monotonous strums...
And deep pulsating drums

Play,

They play in my mind and heart...

When will it end?
Better yet, when did it start?