CellarGhosts
03/30/07, 02:15 PM
The next in my series of related pieces. I'm trying to incorporate lots of different writing styles into this thing, so this one will be a little bit different haha. Thanks for reading, and enjoy.
the Vagrant (Chapter Two)
Somewhere off a little town north of nowhere,
In a secluded wood, by the side of a dwindling campfire,
Spinning its' ghost stories,
Was a man no one knew...nor did they care to know.
Looking like he had crawled from the very mouth of hell itself,
He looked silently skyward, listening to the symphony
Of crackling embers and bustling crickets surrounding him.
Somewhere not too far away, a stream flowed placidly,
It's soothing stories easing the heart of every savage beast within earshot.
Meanwhile, the man that no one knew wrapped his calloused fingers
Around the neck of an old beat-up Guild, waiting for the inspiration to strike
From Atlanta to Mufreesboro, from Mufreesboro to wherever the hell he was now,
He had walked on aching feet, dragging behind him a miles' worth of regret
His only friend; this ragged old six-string.
Tonight felt different, however...as if just over the horizon, there was home
As if the all-too familiar lullaby of rumbling freight cars and steam engine whistles
Was all to be a thing of the distant past.
Returning his contemplative gaze back to the warmth of that dwindling fire,
He threw on a couple more logs, and looked into the static swirls of orange, yellow, and red
Someday soon, he thought, as if he was speaking to another,
As a Delta melody began to flow from his fingertips
Someday soon...
the Vagrant (Chapter Two)
Somewhere off a little town north of nowhere,
In a secluded wood, by the side of a dwindling campfire,
Spinning its' ghost stories,
Was a man no one knew...nor did they care to know.
Looking like he had crawled from the very mouth of hell itself,
He looked silently skyward, listening to the symphony
Of crackling embers and bustling crickets surrounding him.
Somewhere not too far away, a stream flowed placidly,
It's soothing stories easing the heart of every savage beast within earshot.
Meanwhile, the man that no one knew wrapped his calloused fingers
Around the neck of an old beat-up Guild, waiting for the inspiration to strike
From Atlanta to Mufreesboro, from Mufreesboro to wherever the hell he was now,
He had walked on aching feet, dragging behind him a miles' worth of regret
His only friend; this ragged old six-string.
Tonight felt different, however...as if just over the horizon, there was home
As if the all-too familiar lullaby of rumbling freight cars and steam engine whistles
Was all to be a thing of the distant past.
Returning his contemplative gaze back to the warmth of that dwindling fire,
He threw on a couple more logs, and looked into the static swirls of orange, yellow, and red
Someday soon, he thought, as if he was speaking to another,
As a Delta melody began to flow from his fingertips
Someday soon...