your first ancestors
had geographic ridges
purple-blue crisscrosses
once slashed gaping open
crimson that mouthed
“wade in the water chillan”
you called people
responded the blues
bent in depressed
trances third fifth and
seventh like pancakes
flattened by a spatula
you ragged people
shagged under red
lights to a syncopated
rhythm AABBACCC no
more cakewalks just sexy
marches and falling Maple Leaves
© Pamela A. Rossow
ooh Saucy! I like it. Two of my favourite things.
A
A, jazz is like that. . .and go figure!
lovely description of the instrument, I love concerts and more.
well done.
A++
thanks Jingle!!!! I’m fortunate to have musicians in the family
I’m in the ham,
That’s where I am,
no ragging nor shagging
for this old man.
Ha-ha! Poor Jim! Not where you should be!
Pam,
Sex and music, Music and sex….. Sound good to me. Did I say that sounds good. I meant GREATTTTTTT.
xoxo
Jessica
Lol, Jessica. . .apparently, that’s one of music’s effects! At least with jazz
xoxoxoxo
Can easily get carried away with this one, the whole beauty of music is that it takes you away. The beauty of this poem is that it does exactly the same thing
Awh, SJ thanks! Hope you’re having a good week and find a way to grab that hour back! xo