The Working Poet Blues Poem by Wayne Falconer

I've got the working poet blues
and I write, rewrite and write
althrough hard rain night.
I've got the working poet blues.

Has been some kinda long time
work to make her loving mine
with some solid riff in mind
man I play to wake the blind.

Inspired by grey tide turning
a great red deep sky burning
gulls riding face of the storm
where dreams crash to find their form.

Often wake under seige with emotion
learn to prey in right devotion
lost to love and all earthly reason
pure blue heaven and summer season.

Gazing up where the wild swan fly
through some hole in the sky
as million lovers set to dream
saints and sinners wake to scheme.

Walk over rose bed and thorn
where blues guitar blast in scorn
play to define the blues break
count notes lovers never to forsake.

Play loud beyond the willow line
where rockers have signet to sign
trying to create sense in life
while guitar notes will ring rife.

So I'll just ply my torch song
know my riffs right from wrong
lay down solid chords true
with final verse I give to you.

I've got the working poet blues
game is just to forever write
tonight man write till outasight.
I've got the working poet blues.