Jazz Poetry...

[Ted O'Reilly]

...or at least, a limerick:

There was a young lady of Chester,

Who idolized Victor Sylvester,

Till a jazz buff seduced her

And then introduced her

To Louis, Count Basie and Lester.

Edited May 31, 2014 by Ted O'Reilly

[Chuck Nessa]

Poetry is one of my allergies. Sorry.

[Ted O'Reilly]

Poetry is one of my allergies. Sorry

Limericks are poetry? I guess...

The late Canadian orchestra conductor Sir Ernest MacMillan (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ernest_MacMillan) was, from all reports, a bit of a wag, and loved limericks. Here's one credited to him, which I passed on to George Shearing (a fellow wag) who loved it:

On the breasts of a barmaid in Wales

Was tattooed the prices of ales,

And on her behind,

For the sake of the blind,

The same information, in Braille.

[JSngry]

THERE WILL be many other nights like
be standing here with someone, some
one
someone
some-one
some
some
some
some
some
some
one
there will be other songs
a-nother fall, another ­ spring, but
there will never be a-noth, noth
anoth
noth
anoth-er
noth-er
noth-er

Other lips that I may kiss,
but they won't thrill me like
thrill me like
like yours
used to
dream a million dreams
but how can they come
when there

never be
a-noth ­


--Paul Blackburn, "Listening to Sonny Rollins at the Five-Spot"

[johnblitweiler]

Thanks, Jim. You remind me of Roscoe Mitchell's poems about "one pitch-black night" and "it's only for kicks cracks and flacks." I'd love to see both of them again.

[paul secor]

Perhaps not poetry, but many of Henry Threadgill's titles are definitely poetic.

[page]

I've been trying to put my poetry to jazz the last couple of years. Don't know whether I succeeded, just that it feels good. I like limericks, I don't write them that often myself, I do like yours.
I've written all my life, it started with diaries, but I've always liked poems to read and to write. I have only been writing in English these last couple of years. My poems are just thoughts, so they can come in any kind of form, regular or irregular. Sometimes I put them to music, sometimes I just leave them thoughts. This one below, is part of a little song.

"Reach..

your hand
on the pane,
so I can attain,
mine on
yours..."

© 2013 page

Edited June 8, 2014 by page