Minstrel’s Song

On weathered leather of piano stool
Postured songster croons a poetic churn
Smooth as butter yet with a rustic spin
Octaves played out, slow pentatonic verse
Ivory keys dance by gnarled fingers’ touch
Blistered, weeping digits play minstel song
Notes of pain and anger, words bitterly
Interrogate, chastise indifference
Of benign passersby, a wary glance
At this wordsmith decrying modern man
A scourge of society, whispered prose
Faint samplings of humanity eagerly
Bemused, his angst tempered by waning smile
Rhythmic notes linger, foot pedal caress
This barter of utterance lost in time
Walks to a beat of a different drum
Eyes turned away, tears fall in misery
His blackface painted somber, minstrel sings

copyright 2008 Don MacIver