No Time for The Blues
sabbath
Posts: 35
The old man sat quietly, head down, eyes closed,
so still until the drum's vibration filled the air,
his foot matched the tempo as his hands patted his legs.
The sweet sounds of saxophone and the deep voice of bass
danced on the swirling smoke floating from burnt tobacco.
Cymbals imitated fried bacon sizzling on the back room grill.
Piano notes glided through the tables serving melody on the rocks,
silencing small talk with an intoxicating mixture called jazz.
The old man raised his head and smiled, eyes still closed.
Miss "Thang" strolled on stage, not bigger than a minute,
and scatted tunes that sang her to sleep in the cradle.
Claps of thunder roared approval from small talkers still
too young to comprehend, as they ordered their next round neat.
The old man shook his head, as if to say, "Maybe tomorrow".
While the vibes still caressed the air, the old man stood,
placed the chairs on the tables and slowly swept away
the memories of this night...
A crushed rose, a dropped match book
with a never to be called phone number,
and many unfulfilled dreams
casually discarded as yesterday's trash.
The old man sat on the piano stool to rest his gnarled fingers,
He bowed his head as if praying and with hesitation
placed his hands on the keys. Once again, notes glided
through the tables serving melody on the rocks, but this time
there was no small talk, just that sweet intoxicating mixture called jazz.
He taught the best...hmm...so long ago, before his hands betrayed him.
Now, he plays the after set with the ghosts of his past.
After locking up, he climbed the stairs to his room.
A dusty saxophone case peeked out from behind the dresser while his bass
steadied itself against an old oak rocker next to his wrought iron bed.
The old man sat quietly and soaked his aching hands. For a moment,
he reflected on the image in his mirror, then closed his eyes and whispered,
"Tomorrow, maybe I'll play the Blues".
so still until the drum's vibration filled the air,
his foot matched the tempo as his hands patted his legs.
The sweet sounds of saxophone and the deep voice of bass
danced on the swirling smoke floating from burnt tobacco.
Cymbals imitated fried bacon sizzling on the back room grill.
Piano notes glided through the tables serving melody on the rocks,
silencing small talk with an intoxicating mixture called jazz.
The old man raised his head and smiled, eyes still closed.
Miss "Thang" strolled on stage, not bigger than a minute,
and scatted tunes that sang her to sleep in the cradle.
Claps of thunder roared approval from small talkers still
too young to comprehend, as they ordered their next round neat.
The old man shook his head, as if to say, "Maybe tomorrow".
While the vibes still caressed the air, the old man stood,
placed the chairs on the tables and slowly swept away
the memories of this night...
A crushed rose, a dropped match book
with a never to be called phone number,
and many unfulfilled dreams
casually discarded as yesterday's trash.
The old man sat on the piano stool to rest his gnarled fingers,
He bowed his head as if praying and with hesitation
placed his hands on the keys. Once again, notes glided
through the tables serving melody on the rocks, but this time
there was no small talk, just that sweet intoxicating mixture called jazz.
He taught the best...hmm...so long ago, before his hands betrayed him.
Now, he plays the after set with the ghosts of his past.
After locking up, he climbed the stairs to his room.
A dusty saxophone case peeked out from behind the dresser while his bass
steadied itself against an old oak rocker next to his wrought iron bed.
The old man sat quietly and soaked his aching hands. For a moment,
he reflected on the image in his mirror, then closed his eyes and whispered,
"Tomorrow, maybe I'll play the Blues".
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Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
You are a very talented writer......
Signed,
a writer(Part-time)
A whisper and a chill
adv2005
"Why do I bother?"
The 11th Commandment.
"Whatever"
PETITION TO STOP THE BAN OF SMOKING IN BARS IN THE UNITED STATES....Anyone?