Passing Through Poem by Bill Galvin

Passing Through

We're all strangers as we travel this world.
And sometimes we meet
In different times, ways, and places.

We dance our dances, make our music;
We move to the music
That means something to us;
Sometimes we sing along;
Then we all move on.

We're all just passing through.

Now and then, we meet the makers.
Not the stars of today,
But the 91 tear-old who backed the greats,
Who beat back the bottle; outlasted his music peers;
Helped create the Chicago Blues piano sound,
And made his bones in the 50s,
With Howlin' Wolf's Band;
And recorded with Elmore, Sonny, Muddy,
Bo, Buddy, and The Stones.

At 10: 10 PM, Henry Gray is introduced…
And lifts himself from his chair with his cane,
Walks up the 4 wooden stairs to the stage,
Sets himself down, looks around at each musician,
And, with no fanfare, bangs away a boogie beat
That lifts 100 blues lovers from their melancholy ways.

He demonstrates what he's been doing
As he's been passing through.

He still plays many Blues Festivals;
Been featured in Eastwood's "Blues Piano";
Won national Arts awards, and acted in movies.
Here at Antone's in Austin,
He plays a solid hour with a solid house band,
That included Benny Turner on bass,
From the old Freddie King Band.

I met Henry cooling off near the front door.
So nice, I said, really nice; I shook his hand.
Thank you kindly; we're here tomorrow, he says.
Wish I could, man, really would like to, but,

I'm just passing through.


Saturday, July 2, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: music,time
Kelly Kurt 02 July 2016

We are all indeed just passing through. Some leave more behind than others

1 0 Reply
Bill Galvin 02 July 2016

Copy that, Kelly.

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