by Kevin S. Hart
Thursday, September 01, 2005
Rated "G" by the Author.
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Tonight, Louis Armstrong’s brass trumpet sighs
New Orleans’ blues
Tears stream while notes tap out a sad, jazz rain
No scat, not this time, he plays soft refrain.
Big Easy, no more, but never less
Than what she is
Crescent moon rising above the rest
Beauty faced beast
And though she was ravaged, she did her best
Survived, at least.
Down in Quarter, ghost bands are silent
Hurricane tried hard to take their city
Creole spirit defies broken levees.
Big Easy, you cry, where to go now?
Yet there you stand
In a dream state, crossing winds somehow
Fought storm’s fanged hound
To be regained, taking solemn vow:
Today, all those saints who watch, they still march
Stride in their shoes
Shoulder Mississippi’s children again
If you might, it’s asked, help them reach the when.
Big Easy, you bleed, you wear your wounds
With a vengeance
Your sisters, brothers will sow bright stars
Bind broken heart
Not to sew shroud, but to heal those scars
Begin fresh start.
Tomorrow, Satchmo will sound loud once more
New Orleans’ blues
Not with sorrow, Louis’ trumpet will ring
No, instead, she’ll hear his joy-filled voice sing.
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|Reviewed by Joni Stewart-Hague
|you've done it --- you've captured the spirit of New Orleans. Would that we could all play the 'blues' as she does.........down, but not beaten. I can hear Satchmo playing now. Well done, Kev
|Reviewed by Ian Thorpe
|Fats Domino (missing) was my first rock idol when I was seven or eight - oops, showing my age now - so even an ocean away I feel personally touched.
Great Poem, New Orleans is a city of music and fun, it will rise again.
|Reviewed by Eddie Thompson
|Thanks for this poem.|