One Lone Minstrel

I first met the Reverend Marv Ward in Rosewood at the old Utopia Bar.  He had just finished a set and had been drinking a bit.  He sat next to me at the bar and we talked.  We talked of gigs, drinking, and women.  This was his life, his music, and his addiction.

Marv is not your typical poet and this is not your typical book of poetry; this is a blues lyricist putting meat on the bones of songs as he sits at a bar and tells you what was and what could have been.

I invite you to read, ‘One Lone Minstrel’ and follow the Reverend Marv Ward as he leaves his blues upon the pages of his first book of poetic verse and imagine him in a side street bar standing at a mic, guitar slung over his shoulder, a half finished drink sits on an amp, and he sings, 

“The blood of passion

rises and flows

and I have no tourniquet” 

Let him sing you more poems of love remembered and love lost and later, when his voice is hoarse or the booze runs out, sit at the bar with Marv and ask him to recite all that he has written of a bluesman’s life lived in shades of indigo.

                                                                     Al Black