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Nothing You Can Do...

Mist of the night come hold me
foggy mudflat blues
Playing in the dark, my baby
makes me think of you

Eyes half-closed and body swayin'
notes slidin' on the strings
tinklin' keys of piano
makes me think of things

Awww, you know I'm crazy
out of my mind 'bout you
Look into my eyes, baby
Know there's nuthin' you can do

Shhhhip, shiip, tatt-a-tat
Twisted woman of mine
get yerself down and boogie
have another glass of wine

Siren strings callin' me
high notes, oh so high
only dogs can hear them
helpin' me to fly

Wave of smooth guitar chords
Low bass is really thrummin'
Pluckin' strings in my heart
gotta hold on to sumthin'

And now the dance is over
I hear the piper call
but I'm following that guitar
Down the darkened hall

Cause baby you got me crazy
outta my head over you
Look into my eyes baby
Ain't nothin' you can do

Style / type: 
Structured: Western
Review Request (Intensity): 
I want the raw truth, feel free to knock me on my back
Review Request (Direction): 
What did you think of my title?
How was my language use?
How was the beginning/ending of the poem?
Last few words: 
Was listening to Stevie Ray Vaughan and Albert King.
Editing stage: 
Content level: 
Not Explicit Content

Comments

Before we had kids weekends were frequently spent in our tiny apartment playing CD after CD of our favorite artists. Your poem has taken any blues I was feeling away and reminded me of a beautiful and chaotic time in my life. My younger self thanks you.

Tim

in love with the blues, long before I met my first wife, but after spending a weekend with her and a friend down in New Orleans on Bourbon Street, I never was the same. It flavored my music tastes with a huge measure of jazz, and years later, alone...
I went back and prowled the back streets of New Orleans for about a week, visiting many of those little bars where some of the biggest artists of the blues were made. Got to see B.B. King! I'm glad that I could bring your younger self a little bit of nostalgia. Thanks for the read and comment. ~ Geez.
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Writing purely for oneself, is the ultimate in defensive posture.

author comment

and it is usually a tenor sax that gets me feelin like that!!! I remember those late nights, after the bars had closed! We didn't have children so we could sleep into the day hours! wonderful poem that opens many doors...

*hugs, Cat

*
When someone reads your work
And responds, please be courteous
And reply in kind, thanks.

for me, it is the alto-sax! There is nothing like a sax to spread the music like butter on a hard roll and make the meal.
I'm glad to hear that this one has opened the old memory like a can of favorite soup! Thank you, ~ Geez.
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Writing purely for oneself, is the ultimate in defensive posture.

author comment

Years spent listening to songs...daydreaming about the long haired guitarists who sparked my interest...I was crazy about them but they never seemed to notice me. Simpler times though, love was less complicated. Thank you for bringing back those memories....

~RoseBlack~

you in the front row, waiting for that magic gaze; the brooding eyes and long hair flying, giving you shivers. I felt the same way about those blues singing babes, whose smoldering looks seemed to go right through me to the fat wallets of the wealthier patrons. Oh well... I'm glad to have brought you some of those memories back to visit. Thanks for the read and comments.
~ Geez.
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Writing purely for oneself, is the ultimate in defensive posture.

author comment

How many gates I climbed...pits I pushed my way through to get to the front to make eye contact just once. It finally happened at Clutch a year or so ago...I caught the singers eye and interacted a few different times throughout the show. My poor friend I brought with me had never been to a hard rock show...awesome memories

~RoseBlack~

You brought a newbie into the pit at a Clutch concert? Savage. Lol. I love it.

She is all dance and hip hop...we were front row and when Neil got down in front of me during Rats and we were screaming feet away from each other's faces...she almost fell over. It was amazing...and yes I'm a total savage.

~RoseBlack~

My husband and I listened to B.B. King while traveling through the Smoky Mountains one beautiful summer evening just at sunset, with the sun roof open and windows down. The road and the music were both sooo smooth. Thanks for bringing back that perfect memory.
L

that I could do that for you. I'm not sure that anything could make me happier than to excite a memory from a great time in your history. As long as I can bring a memory, show you something unexpected or just bring some happiness to you or anyone with my poetry, I am satisfied. ~ Geez.
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Writing purely for oneself, is the ultimate in defensive posture.

author comment
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