blues sonnet – radical druid

What Good Is It: blues sonnet

Published on April 22, 2025

What good is it to stand and curse the dark?
Yes, in the black of night, to curse the dark?
If you want some more light, create a spark.

What good can come from waiting out your time?
What good can you get done, just doing time?
To get out of a pit, you need to climb.

What good will grow if you don’t plant the seed?
No good will grow if you don’t plant the seed;
from nothing sprouts up nothing, guaranteed.

What good becomes of empty words and song?
Can you change anything with words and song?
You either lead or learn to sing along.

What good is it to know and not to do?
The world can grow or die, it’s up to you.

22 APR 2025

Published on January 19, 2017

There is no need to holler or to shout,
no need to raise a holler shouting out;
those ain’t the kind of blues I’m talking ‘bout.

The world is in a worry, sure enough,
the world is full of worry, sure enough;
if you don’t like it, man, that there’s just tough.

Ain’t nothing much to say, and less to do,
not all that much to say, nothing to do,
won’t make a difference down at me and you.

Don’t make commotion, sure don’t raise your head,
make no commotion, better bow your head;
might raise it up and find it lopped off, dead.

When darkness lies so heavy near the ground,
sure ain’t the time to think you’ll stick around.

19 JAN 2017

Published on November 17, 2010

Every fire begins with just a spark.
Yes, every fire it starts with just a spark;
comes out of nothing, somewhere in the dark.

Every morning starts before the dawn.
Each morning has its start long before dawn;
it stops its sleeping, has to ramble on.

Everybody’s got their cross to bear.
It’s true, each one has got their cross to bear;
no use in crying out, “It just ain’t fair.”

Every flood starts with just one drop of rain.
Every flood starts with just one drop of rain;
wets the rich and poor man just the same.

Every storm begins from a small cloud;
Tornados sure must make their mamas proud.

17 NOV 2010

Published on December 14, 2002

Oh, how the winter wind does howl and moan
The winter wind, I hear it howl and moan
And turn the warm sunshine as cold as stone

The morning sky is clouded up with rain
Covered over with clouds all full of rain
And any hope for sunshine is in vain

Oh, feel the chill, it creeps along your spine
A bitter chill that crawls into your spine
That makes you miss the warmth of the sunshine

The world outside is gray and filled with frost
Yes, turned to somber hues of gray and frost
And memory of the summer sun is lost

Oh, to be where the weather suits my clothes
and feel the sun beat down upon my nose.

14 DEC 2002