Folk
Something tells me that the recent resurgence in American folk music isn’t exactly a good thing…
They’re crawlin’ out the woodwork
Them folks with old guitars
The broken hearted dreamers
Who grew beneath the stripes and stars
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With their small recorded words
They stand up and proclaim
A lesson of acceptance
Without a thought for wealth or fame
Content to die in anonymity
They say, “now stand with me.”
Crying to the silent heavens
“When, oh when will we be free?”
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They’re crawlin’ out the woodwork
Them folks with old guitars
The broken hearted dreamers
Who grew beneath the stripes and stars
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By talkin’ without speakin‘
To an audience that ain’t listenin’
Hearin’ them while missin’
Every poignant verse and ingenious turn of phrase
They’re sayin’ “I ain’t no genius.
No, sir, naw that ain’t me. I’m only a person with a voice
And the bell it tolls for thee.”
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They’re crawlin’ out the woodwork
Them folks with old guitars
The broken hearted dreamers
Who grew beneath the stripes and stars
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I heard it said once
By a wise man long ago
That the death knell be a ringin’
When the country folk start singin’
About how far is left to go.
See the path is long and deadly
And by the roadside lie the graves
Of the heroes who did not abandon
Hope before they lay
Down in the valley where the bless-ed dead do rest
The lucky few who died before
The rest of us faced our toughest test
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They’re crawlin’ out the woodwork
Them folks with old guitars
The broken hearted dreamers
Who grew beneath the stripes and stars
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this poem is dedicated to my dad, who taught me to love the words of people who speak with compassion from the heart
About the Creator
Alexander McEvoy
Writing has been a hobby of mine for years, so I'm just thrilled to be here! As for me, I love writing, dogs, and travel (only 1 continent left! Australia-.-)
"The man of many series" - Donna Fox
I hope you enjoy my madness
AI is not real art!
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By Shirley Belk6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (4)
I can imagine this being sung by a campfire
I'm still a fan, but then I'm one o' "them". Love the poem.
Folk music is the voice of the masses. When we are not happy it gets louder.
I've heard it said that all music is folk music, I just reshared my piece on the FLK, and I have just realised that acronym is is Folk without the "O"