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The Jazz Man

Licking his lips to puff on the reed,
Pressing his fingers onto the rings,
Gulping some air so that he can breathe,
Then like a frog he blew out his cheeks.

Holding the sax in his arms like a baby,
Rocking it back and forth as he’s playing.
Roars from the low notes rumbled the ground,
People were staring,
It was heard all around;
Like the moo from a cow,
A bellowing sound.

Rhythm and blue smoke poured from his bell,
Sweet lullaby was beginning to swell.

Fumes of brass had wafted pass,
Notes of A and treble clefs.

Calming, lulling haze of fog,
Carrying that sweet, hypnotic song.

Within time their dreams were deep,
When the whole world was put to sleep.
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Submitted on May 01, 2011

36 sec read

B. M. Stroud Claim this poet

I am a writer/theatre director from Mentor, Ohio who creates formless, experimental work; each project might be radically different from what has gone before it. My prime aim is to create work which feeds the imaginations of young people and gives them a memorable reading experience. I am interested in developing a series of the most simplistic books for children aged 4 and older, rooted in the abstract, philosophical and existential.My Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?id=100001420675472 more…

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    "The Jazz Man" Poetry.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2021. Web. 8 Dec. 2021. <https://www.poetry.com/poem/86985/the-jazz-man>.

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