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Jazz Poetry

Weave Passion Thru Instruments

By Published: September 17, 2005
Why is it that love lingers
When the actual disintegrated
So long ago? Each evening
Agonizing beauty flows thru tunes
Reminding me of your fingers
Weaving thru the instruments
The passions of the mind
In an alien language astounding
In the harmony of the flow.


And as I sit here listening
I conjure up your image:
Tho the actual denied to know,
The essence daily flows ---

Sirius, how love holds.

STILL PLAYING CLEAR

Words used to make a noise
If only in the mind, a form
To describe the multiplicity
In the actual that surrounds,
And somewhere in that maze
The sounds that bring you home
Are woven in the music.

Such beauty in the saxophone
Pulsating thru the atmosphere
In harmonic description of
A passion that we shared
Way back in the last millennium
Still playing clear
Fills me with hope our merging
One day will appear
Tho what we have as memory
Becomes alive with every note I hear.

INVASION

Walked in heavy rain
Skipped a meeting, then caught
In family insanity again
While plans are made
To contact other poets
Almost as a sacrifice
Just to ease the pressure
Building in my brain.

An old theme, played over and over again
Listening to funky tunes.
Rich mellow descriptions
Conjure up your image,
Passion pouring thru the horn ---
You have invaded my home.

For every time I hear those notes
Big sections of the brain
Flash images of our merging
And an inner joy regained
Flows thru the music
Easing all the pain.


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