Charlie Gravel-Voice


A poem I wrote after spending a evening listening to Tom Waits, for some reason when I copy poems from Word it wont let me paragraph, sorry about that.

My Charlie gravel-voice,

Turned fifty last July,

He was never fond of cake,

So I made him apple pie,

I sang him Happy Birthday,

Though I feared that he was not,

He knew his end was near,

 and he didn’t smile a lot.

He looked at me with kindness,

And said; “don’t fear or fret”

Then from his birthday candle,

He lit a cigarette.

I watched him smoke in silence,

Then he exhaled and said;

“I’ve not said all I should to you,

And now I’m nearly dead,

Oh don’t cry Daisy darlin’,

It doesn’t suit you sober,

Now hold my hand a minute,

And  I’ll try to sort things over.”

“It may be petty cash is petty,

And diamonds are diseased,

But if I had rich-man-itus,

And got a fiver when I sneezed,

I’d give it all to you dais,

To spend it on a dress,

Or a crucifix of gold,

That our man God would bless.”

“my schooling was strumming,

On a second hand guitar,

And though you liked the music,

It didn’t get us very far,

I busked for thirty years;

Played a paving slab a tune,

Had your darning in my trousers,

And my plectrum was a spoon.

“’do you love your daisy?’ ,

Is the only question I can answer,

You give me all I got,

And by than I don’t mean cancer,

I mean a gentle hand,

And company for life,

I didn’t need no money,

For a top end wife.

“God knows I wish my legacy,

Was more than nubs and tat,

But I love you Daisy darlin’,

And I can’t give more than that.”

Then he leaned across and kissed me,

Just a day before he’d die,

And we sat there as the rain fell,

Eating apple pie.

Gwen

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About Gwen and Elinor

Two bloging buddies who love tea and biscuits.
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