A crooked creature of the night
Short and squat
As awkward as a frog
The ugly man with the lovely song
He sang of love, and romance too
Of Madame George on Cypress Avenue
Of Californian nights and Mississippi blues
The ugly man with the lovely song
Rude and crude, in figure and in speech
Yet his music flowed like honey
As he always soared to reach the Astral Planes
Of longing and of love
The ugly man with the lovely song
Now he shares the stage
With the glitterati of the literati
Seeking his acceptance
In the pantheon of poetic greats
Does his belong there?
Only time will tell
For the ugly man with the lovely song.
http://www.standard.co.uk/
THOMAS MARTIN lives in Dublin. His writing has been featured in Piranha, Figments, The Weary Blues and Shot Glass Journal.
