Tomorrow, I shall be loquacious
an incandescent individual
not taciturn or bellicose.
One who is the debutante
dressed in white tulle
written up on the society page.
Today and tomorrow’s morrow
I will be me.
Written for NaPoWriMo Day 24. We are to write a “mix and match” poem. List fancy and unfancy words and then let your imagination take you from there.
It was the big band era, lots of brass
Billy whalin’ on the drums
while Johnny waited for his riff
makin’ the keyboard swing.
And me, standin’ on the riser
my long arms waitin’ too.
“Wing span of a hawk” mama said,
just the ticket for a trombone man.
Yeah, I could slide that brass
hear the notes clear and smooth
no strings or keys,
just that long sleek glide.
And Mabel at the mic,
feathers clipped in henna dyed hair
sultry voice in the sweet spots
hips, always swingin’ to the beat.
Never made it big like the Duke
but we had our gigs.
A glass of gin between sets
and smoke swirlin’ round our heads.
They’re all gone now.
Pawned my ‘bone long time ago.
But sometimes, while I’m sittin’ here
I can put myself there.
I close my eyes and start to sway
Mabel leanin’ real close like she did.
I wheel this chair around a bit
and I can feel us back there again,
swingin’ to that big band sound.
Rescored for dVerse Poetics Fantasia. This was originally posted in 2015, inspired by Carl Sandburg’s Jazz Fantasia. I’ve reworked it a bit — thinking it a good one for today’s prompt. I am hosting dVerse today — wonderful experience. In the words of Carl Sandburg, Go to it oh jazzmen!
Young girl with broad grin
face turned upward, felt the tug.
Kite string unwinding
colors dancing, zig zagging
dreams tossed to the wind come true.
Photo from Bermuda’s kite flying tradition on Good Friday.
Happy weekend to all — may your dreams fly high!
NaPoWriMo day 9.
Swingin’, swayin’ to all that jazz
Max drummin’ drums to syncopate
Ella’s scat, can ya dig it mate?
Billie’s sultry voice croons smooth as
liquid gold. Zoot suit struts janglin’
while Louis puffs his cheeks far as
air can go. Cool rhythms gyrate,
swingin’, swayin’, to all that jazz.
Great jazz musicians referenced in poem include Max Roach drummer, Ella Fitzgerald, Billie Holiday, both jazz singers; and Louis Armstrong, trumpeteer extraordinaire. Written for dVerse Poet’s Pub. Victoria asks us to create an Octain Refrain: Poem composed of two tercets and a couplet. Each line must contain 8 syllables. Poem must contain the following rhyme scheme: A b b, a c-c a, bA Another poetic sudoku! A is the refrain with first and last being the same or close to the same. Second stanza c-c means there should be an internal rhyme within the line. Quite the challenge! Photo credit: Free-Pik.
I choose life with mystery. Space.
Question marks, exclamations, ellipses
not brackets or parentheses.
Certainty directs,
connects dots by numbers
like choreographed dance steps.
Give me ad lib, jazz scat
one man band with knees that bang.
Meander, run, or tra-la-la.
Tap shoes. Not silly silk slippers.
Too much between Point A and B
to follow a tutu pink linear path.
Photo Credit: Shirley B. Posted to Poetry Pantry on Poets United.
Thanks, Bjorn, for the introduction!
Holograph, barely here.
I talk like a moth flitters to light,
shadow boxing.
Grin and bear it.
Buck up.
It’ll get better.
Pearls of wisdom faintly heard.
Like oil bubbles’ thinly veiled colors,
disappear in darkness.
Skim me not.
Help find the me.
Please.
Quadrille (44 words) written, including the word grin, as prompted by Bjorn for dVerse.
Fireflies held aloft, cupped softly
between two hands. Flicker on…
off…on…off…under darkening skies.
On…off…dim…dimmer…
flutter palms’ release.
Dance free, bright within the night.
Could it be that easy,
as simply letting go?
Photo Credit: Tracy Stansel
On the edge of my seat
waiting for the world to twirl
days to churn, months to plod,
lean in and listen to me.
Bring me to that place,
the sea of tranquility
oasis in the desert of hate
respite from words spewed
like foaming waves upon the shore.
Where people listen
see beyond semantic walls
smile, consider, reflect
as conscience takes a pause.
Take me there, now.
Please
Photo taken in Bermuda in 2015.
Memory spiders twirling thoughts.
Nurse-white whisper shoes
sidle by. Clocks in freezer
stopped time when I knew me.
Thawed too fast, so they came
in loud tapping shoes.
And we danced ourselves into lucidity,
spotlight shining bright.
I remember tomorrow
like it was yesterday.
Quadrile 1 for dVerse Pub for Poets. Word count 44, using a form of the word dance – as in dance into a condition.
I need your help,
the crocodile is getting close.
Time just seems to disappear
even on ho hum days.
Please send Tinker Bell
to flit round my head.
I’ll remember then
to think wonderful things.
And the starry sky
outside my window
will look more inviting
when it’s my turn to fly.
lillian
Quickly’s Winter Doldrums Jan 10 Prompt: write an epistolary poem – a poem in the form of a letter.
lillian the home poet 