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Sasha Paulona Sep 15
Chill of the night
Dim light all around
I cried with a smile
and combined to our souls
Every word.......

When I was lying on this bench
When I hold every breath
I believed you love me
Every pause............

When you far away
When the hearts were aching
I believed you love me
every moment.........

The sweet smell of your skin
It's the grievous part of my sin
You make me drunk with iced gin
and leave me with your win
every night...........
when I listen to Jazz music and think about romantic night club song.
Carlo C Gomez Aug 31
Broken flight

They went down somewhere
in the trees

The sky is sad
and full of remorse

But never Calliope

Broadway and 52

God knows
they got to you

She sings songs
of their misfortune

Decidely the muse and
mother of importune
Jamie Aug 14
I love you like jazz notes
All over the place and messy

I love you slow
Like a burning ember holding onto firewood

I love you fiercely
I love you now
And then
And always

In secret
In whisper
gallery of
the grievers
ween afar
in plane
to propel
the dance
yet triple
in wings
that triage
Mekong dry-cleaner
those drastic
maitres'd the
guns of
Queen Village
noise plays
guitar in
Market Square
Chris' Cafe in Philadelphia, PA
When i close my eyes i think of you.
When your in my mind i cant' help but feel you.
Remembering the time we had our first kiss, knowing how warm it felt.
When i close my eyes, i think of the time your lips faded into mine, like a deep but yet subtle swarm so soft and genuine.
When your in my mind, i can't help but see you and your oceanic blue eyes and softly your kiss in my mind switches into yet another ghostly kiss i yearn to feel one more time because good bye kisses aren't enough when you're gone. All i can do is close my eyes and think of you.
din le lo May 31
Words in your curves
Soft as rhythm and blues
Langston Hughes piano keys and sultry jazz
Neo-soul gold
The door, half-open, the sound
Of piano keys one by one
Accelerating, rushing,
Then, softly and gently
Fingertips only
On your neck
And my hair;

The doormat, greasy,
White stains on black,
White stains on white,
White saints above,
And below — white Snow.

Hands jump
From one place to another,
Passionate, yet thoughtful,
Albeit slightly nervous;
A black bough
With a little cloud atop,
Red on white,
White on black
And white on white again.

A lucid view
Through an opaque surface,
Chills mixed with warmth
Within and around;
Muted soft sound
Goes on for a while,
Numbs the senses,
Then, suddenly, a couple
Of accurate and precise
Touches make such
Clear and dazing notes,
That you just sit there

The drum, slow and steady
And swingy and lazy,
As the body trembles,
Bends slightly, freezes
And goes crazy;

Translucent wings
Flutter over white
And black and gold,
The bird serenades
In the dim, shivering light.
He puts
his hands
Around her body
And a calming, warm,
Quiet sound
Of a pulsating heart
Blurs and blends
All the colours:
White on gold,
Gold on black,
Black on white,
White on hazel
And so on
And so forth;

An upright bent
Of the bent upright;
Hold on,

The end.
A friend of mine once said that it's better than ***

Originally published on Medium @ Poets Unlimited

Subtitled 'A jazz-infused impromptu' for reasons unknown
Kaitlin May 23
I am wide awake.
I am tired.
And my eyes do not want to be open.
They are old.
They have seen too much,
For today.
They are tired.
I am tired
Of this.
Wide awake
At 4:00am
Jazz on the brain.
Right now
I could dance until my skirts ripped to shreds
On knee high grass, and ticks crawled up my legs
I could dance in that,
And not care about ticks and scraped up shins or
How bad I am at dancing
But I'm too tired.
So instead of twisting myself into somewhere new
My jazz brain
Plays on an empty room
Elevator ******* skull.
Too tired to do anything more than echo
My jazz.
But I'm wide awake!
And I want to use it.
But it's no use against such heavy
Blankets and air and silence and space and brain
And I know I would care about the ticks
And it would hurt, to bleed all over that prickly field
And I would care.
Since imagery doesn't feel the same
Never feels the same
As real world nettles.
So instead of dancing.
I am writing a poem.
And my brain is on jazz
Like fire.
And I am wide awake.
But I am so
Late night stream of consciousness from my saxophone head.
Lily May 20
I am on Mackinac Island,
Lying down on a big white lawn chair
In front of the Grand Hotel.  
The faint scent of fudge
Lingers on the air so I can almost taste it,
And my hair is getting constantly blown
By the wind that flows among the
Chairs, grass, and music.  
The music comes from the direction of the water,
Where an old style jazz band has
Temporarily set up shop,
Creating gorgeous silhouettes
Against the orange and pink sunset sky.  
The purring of the clarinet
Bounces off of me like the waves are
Bouncing on shore,
But even lighter than that,
Even lighter than the
Wings of the seagull trailing overhead.  
The clarinet drops in and out of sync
With the waves as the silhouettes start to
Bounce to the music.  
A distant bike bell dings,
But it matches so harmoniously
With the music that I don't notice it.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
A constant cycle interrupted only by
The saxophone and drums occasionally.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
The sun is set.  
Silhouettes turn to shadows.  
Waves, bike, clarinet.  
Waves, bike.  
I hope you are all staying safe and healthy!  I can't wait for the time when we can go enjoy live music again.  Thank you for reading!
Gara May 14
jazz and cigarettes
a cup of coffee in hand
they fill up the night
the flower looks up the sky
caught a glimpse of falling stars
the night is alive tonight
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