This Poem was Submitted By: Mell W. Morris On Date: 2005-08-26 18:10:34 . . . Click Here To Mail this Poem to a Friend!To Listen to Music While Reading this Poem, just Click Here!
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Don't Get Around Much Any More
Every day the color blue punctuates my
life like the cliche' of a sudden summer
storm. I relish the balm of a Coltrane sax
collecting shadows of the evening. And all
my years, the pellucid hue of sky mantles
the byways much as velvet might. The blues
is about life and love, B.B. King says, and
that about covers it...a man-and-a-woman
thing. Those who choose to sing the blues
have yearning voices, longing pain from
strained smoke-filled clubs, night after
night. I can close my eyes and hear Lena
singing "Stormy Weather"...a cool note
of intimacy hard to achieve. She always
has one last kiss to blow to her adoring
fans, her own tears trailing down her face
as she swirls from the stage. And all
the while, B.B. keeps on coaxing and
caressing Lucille...
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Copyright © August 2005 Mell W. Morris
Additional Notes:
The name of B.B.'s guitar is "Lucille."
This Poem was Critiqued By: Tony P Spicuglia On Date: 2005-09-04 20:01:46
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Wonderful piece!! Now I know what Turner was speaking of when we spoke of John Coltrane, and he mentioned you. You should go to my critique of his Coltrane piece, I think you would like it.
Don't Get Around Much Any More – After reading this I have thought about my last three months or so. I have found a certain balance in the music, even though I haven’t gotten out much. It sounds like BB King, and the next, ba da ba dump!!
Every day the color blue punctuates my
life like the cliche' of a sudden summer
storm. – There is in the color blue, a royalty that is subtle. The ocean loses its blue during a storm, the sky loses its blue during a storm, and the storms, well, looking beyond the fear, there is a blue there that is stolen, and given life.
I relish the balm of a Coltrane sax
collecting shadows of the evening. And all
my years, the pellucid hue of sky mantles
the byways much as velvet might – I have separated out Coltrane from your next thought, and indeed, the coltrane sax, the armstrong trumpet, krupa on a jazz out take, and even the reluctant tunes of Al Hirt and Kenny G, there is a sense in well played jazz that digs deeper into the blues, than blues can. Most never look to find it.
The blues
is about life and love, B.B. King says, and
that about covers it...a man-and-a-woman
thing. Those who choose to sing the blues
have yearning voices, longing pain from
strained smoke-filled clubs, night after
night. – I play the blues, thought I have found that most blues players are as narrow a vision as anyone can be,.. is there greater blues than country music? The trademark of rock and roll, Layla, is laid in the blues, as are the Rolling stones and Rascals, but we come back to those blues... and for me Gary Moore, BB King, Eric Clapton, and lately Johnny Lang and Robert Cray have fit the bill. Ah the blues, if you can’t cry, you need them more.
I can close my eyes and hear Lena
singing "Stormy Weather"...a cool note
of intimacy hard to achieve. She always
has one last kiss to blow to her adoring
fans, her own tears trailing down her face
as she swirls from the stage. – I do love Lena, but in the Jazz/Blues Singer mold, Sarah Vaughn will always be my favorite. Sometimes, when I listen to her, I can hear a clear recording of Ella Fitzgerald, while Lena gives us the saucy sounds of lost and found. Beautiful poetry Mell, simply beautiful.
And all
the while, B.B. keeps on coaxing and
caressing Lucille... – BB, and the thrill is gone. Nuff Said!!
Wonderful piece Mell, wonderful, beautiful piece.
The name of B.B.'s guitar is "Lucille." (I am against giving away secrets to the too lazy to find out themselves), but that’s just me.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Latorial D. Faison On Date: 2005-09-03 21:31:42
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.97143
Very nice poem Mell, and I'm glad that I read it tonight. Your poem just brings to mind all the memories of the jazz and blues of New Orleans. I know that Lena and B.B. are somewhere praying for the people as well as for the history, tradition and atmosphere of New Orleans. It is my prayer.
Your poem flows like rhythm and blues (smile). I could actually picture the moment, and I think that you did a very good job brining imagery to every line. I envisioned Lena's tears and kisses and BB plucking away at Lucille.
Most importantly, it's a great thing to memorialize people of such great talent and meaning to our country. Even after we are gone, someone will know of such greats because of poems like this. Great job.
Latorial
www.latorialfaison.com
This Poem was Critiqued By: Claire H. Currier On Date: 2005-08-29 01:49:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.73077
My dear Mell......I never was able to get around and enjoy some of the finer things in life, guess it was just an upbringing way of life, mom/dad worked and raised us children, we never went on vacations and I remember one day of the week we were allowed a glass of soda with our meal of spaghetti, your right, Wednesday night.........I just love the way you present this one with structure and word flow, the sounds come through as well as the images and Coltrane with his sax fills the air.......I remember hearing Lena sing 'Stormy Weather' once or twice though I must confess this is not my kind of music. From start to finish you have written this well my friend, even to BB coaxing and caressing his Lucille....certainly does sound like love to me....hope you are feeling somewhat better these days. It is always wonderful to find your work posted. My prayers remain with you my friend.......take care, be safe, God Bless, Claire
This Poem was Critiqued By: marilyn terwilleger On Date: 2005-08-28 13:35:16
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90909
Hi Mell,
This is a lovely poem with beautiful words that give a clear image of B.B. & Lena....no not really of their images but of their music that is soulful, soft, and wistful..much like we would wish our lives to be. Without strife, emotional and physical pain, and without yearnings that we know will never be....and all my years, the pellucid (new word...wonderful) hues of sky mantles the byways much as velvet might...this is so original..so much so that it leaves me without words to describe how it makes me feel...those who choose to sing the blues have yearning voices, longing pain from strained smoke-filled clubs, night after night. I used to sing a lot, when I was young, and I think if I could have done it seriously I would have liked to sing the blues...I love the way the music sways with soft tones....never harsh or loud...a cool note of initmacy hard to achieve..Lena was a master at this....tears trailing down her face as she swirls from the stage...I think when it comes time for me to meet my Maker I want to "swirl from the stage" with as much elagance as I can muster. I just wrote a poem that alludes to that called "I think I will"..you may want to read it. Mark liked it so you may like it, as well. It is short and you don't need to critique it because I know that is hard for you just now....and all the while B.B. keeps on coaxing and caressing Lucille. I love the way you chose to end this piece (didn't know his guitar was called Lucille) it leaves the reader with a nice calm feeling and one that says the blues and these two master will go on...they will play their tunes and sing their blues but even when they are no more their music will live on for all those who love them and their music. This is another exceptional piece of writing that says mountains of words between the lines and they are not lost on me. You are always in my prayers, my friend, and even though you are quiet I know you are there and most likely the idea of a new poem is taking shape in your talented mind.
May God Bless You and Keep You....Marilyn
This Poem was Critiqued By: Dellena Rovito On Date: 2005-08-27 18:47:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.69231
Mell,
Soooooooo nice. It feels like I'm sitting there with a drink and a smoke
listning to the blues. It's a hot summer night and the bars full.
It's been awhile. I'll toast one to you dear Mell.
Coaxing Lucille is very visual to me. Pushing it to play the sweetest sounds.
We both need a night out.
I like Lena's tear as she swirled out.
The emotion in jazz........wow!
Wonderful job babycakes.
You make me happy!
Hugs all over the place.
Dellena
This Poem was Critiqued By: Duane J Jackson On Date: 2005-08-27 14:13:31
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 10.00000
Hi Mell,
It takes the Blues to lighten a heart and offer it consolation...no doubt about it and the works of blues greats such as B.B King and Lena Wilson to name a few have left their imprints on the hearts of those who have suffered...or...are suffering (and are inclined towards this type of music, of course). The Blues call out like the sea calls out to the sailor and together, the song, the singer and the listener embark on a journey unmatched...the guitar riffs, the saxophone wails create a world away from the very world that created the very root of this legendary musical genre. Indeed, it is much like 'balm' rubbed onto the forehead of torment.
Written in free verse (your favorite style), this beautifuly crafted piece offers us insight into the influence of this genre of music on your life. It also tells us about the pain you are currently experiencing and the heart-ache you endure for it is this that draws us to the strains of a Muddy Waters or a John Coltrane. I feel the same way....most of the time.
The language is rich...but never difficult to comprehend and that encompasses good poetry...there's no point writing rich poetry to the effect that only professors of the language may understand it and you have done very well in this regard. Written with music at the helm of things, I noticed that sounds play a vital role in effectively executing this piece. Examples: 'sudden summer storm'- nice alliteration, 'pellucid' - loved the sound of this, 'swirls from the stage' - wonderful effect on the tongue, 'strained smoke filled clubs', 'singing stormy weather', 'coaxing and caressing Lucille' - amazing!!....etc.
The title isn't directly related to the piece but it is innovative and through it you tell your friends and readers about what you have been doing...unfortunately, we will all be upset to learn that your illness has kept you from doing much...the title is also the source for your proximity and appreciation for the blues.
Alright Mell...I am all praises for this piece...I love the way you write and the way you project your thoughts....Excellent poem!!
I do pray that healing will continue to work with you....it would be great to have you here with us a lot more often. My aunt in London, suffers from Lupus...and I am able to relate with what you go through.
Take care,
Duane.
This Poem was Critiqued By: Turner Lee Williams On Date: 2005-08-27 13:08:48
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.90625
Mell–Your presence sorely missed on all fronts, but keenly aware
that any energy directed toward your afficionados is a plus-smile.
Enough fawning already, but just glad to see this post from you.
Although the title could easily be the theme for a blues song, the
piece itself doesn’t have a doldrums feel. Of note is a short list
of what this reader perceives as protagonist favorite blues/jazz
musicians (of course a list of this stature would never ever be
without “JOHN COLTRANE”). Scribes penning is not only adoration
for these renowns whose euphonious sounds seem to soothe or lessen
whatever ails Mellita, but tribute to a genre that have long been
standards for legions of seasoned ears. “Thank...,” as one TPLer
said, (sometime ago) “...for my Mell fix.” TLW
This Poem was Critiqued By: Joanne M Uppendahl On Date: 2005-08-27 12:56:35
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.84375
MellO Blues Singer with Red Hat:
Some mornings are worth waking up to. This is one. It may be dark out yet,
full summer is fading into fall, but your “Don’t Get Around Much Any More”
sings me awake. Your poem makes me glad to be alive and fills my ears with
music like no other. I’ve been doing either very brief critiques or opposite.
The Rules of Blues might apply here. Sing it until we are done. You bring
Coltrane’s sax, B.B. King’s smoky voice over Lucille’s love notes, and
Lena. Anyone who has enjoyed Lena can always close their eyes and
hear her still, but few can bring her sweet, intimate tone into a poem.
Most rewarding in this velvet feast of song and sound – your voice. You
make your title blue and bluesy, for as in the song, you “Don’t Get
Around Much Any More” which brings your poem “Every Poem An
Autograph” back vividly to me. “Every day the color blue punctuates my
life like the cliche' of a sudden summer storm. I relish the balm of a Coltrane
sax collecting shadows of the evening.” A poet’s poem, with punctuation
brought to us by Mell’s shades of the color blue. It’s a smoky blue with
brighter tones, depending on the time of day. It collects tones throughout
the day and often long nights of its creator. And your poem reminds me
that you ‘don’t get around much any more.’ Except that you do in ways
you would never suspect. I mean, carried around in the hearts of a number
of people who love you (and those are only the ones I know about) like
me. You went to Alaska on the cruise ship. You sat in the empty place
at the table, (there was always one) and sometimes tsk-tsk’d at my 2nd
glass of wine. But smiled and shook your head, listening to my clipped
Yankee accent growing a little softer. I think you tasted the desserts
but never finished one. You synthesized the music, laughter, the
sound of the ship’s engine, the blue, ever deeper blue as the evening
wore on sea along with the leaping orca pods all into this poem. Then
the sunset and the deep, dark of the night, nothing to be seen for
hundreds of miles but stars. But I digress. “And all my years, the pellucid
hue of sky mantles the byways much as velvet might.” All your years you
wrote poetry with your eyes, with your presence. The sky allowed almost
all light to pass through because you could, even then, see the light and
knew on some level that you would pass that light on, your vision, to
others.
“The blues
is about life and love, B.B. King says, and
that about covers it...a man-and-a-woman
thing.”
Isn’t it though. Everything has gender (in my view) and polarity is
what makes the magic, magic. The blues cover all of the important things
we as humans can feel and understand. Only music and poetry can really
extend far enough to embrace what is our essential nature. But here I go
again, digressing, or riffing. You said it so much better in fewer and
tastier words. It is so right-now and so then. The background music of
what once was, the new chords you are playing here, the echo of what
may be (or in some quantum universe, already is) is the rhythm that
holds our cells together. “Those who choose to sing the blues have
yearning voices, longing pain from strained smoke-filled clubs, night
after night.” You put your poetic finger on the place that is most alive
in any of us (IMO), the ‘yearning’ place. And how we express it,
whether in audible voice or poetic voice is only a matter of style. Your
voice equals Lena’s, hers, yours. Your voices join to make a syncretism
of what choice of a song or poem can mean to the reader. Voices
spin out soul-tones. Like smoke, pervasive. The reader/listener can
allow the heart to feel, somewhat based upon the singer’s/poet’s
skill. You cover it. We only need to be here listening and reading.
I am getting too formal now, when what I mean is that you are
reaching deep into me where I live, so that I am searching within
my repertoire of responses for something to meet your extended
grace.
I can close my eyes and hear Lena
singing "Stormy Weather"...a cool note
of intimacy hard to achieve. She always
has one last kiss to blow to her adoring
fans, her own tears trailing down her face
as she swirls from the stage.
The most beautiful thing about Lena and her music is her presence.
Her full presence within her music and with her audience, connecting
with them, connecting each of them with one another. Connecting you
to us. I hear a metaphor here which I don’t want to fully accept, as it
breaks my heart to think of Lena stepping off that stage for the last
time. She cries because she’s leaving them, having shown them
with her song that she returns their love. The “Stormy Weather”
is the truth of life, the reality of parting. After the intimacy, a
drawing away into that separate selfhood that we seem not to
be able to overcome yet. Though I believe in it, the overcoming
of that separation, based in no small part on experiences with
the writer. And those whose hearts she has moved. Nobody the
same after hearing you or Lena. You might right now think
that I am going overboard. If so, don’t worry, I can swim. ;-)
And all (The All that Just Is)
the while, B.B. keeps on coaxing and
caressing Lucille...
Keep living, you seem to be saying here. Keep “caressing” keep loving,
keep receiving my love. Believe in the All, be it, as it is made of love
and blues. I will never leave you, you sing, as you throw a kiss to
those who do and will continue to love you wherever you are appearing
next.
Now I am out of things to say, but hearing your music, always.
With love,
LL Em
This Poem was Critiqued By: Lora Silvey On Date: 2005-08-26 22:48:11
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.78571
Mell,
Wow! This is just so perfect for my evening read. It is not only perfectly structured and flows easily but your verbiage can not be excelled.. I can not pick out one particular line that I like, one would be nothing without the others. Yes, I'm a blues and jazz fan so I was right there with you. Your title drew me in……..but when I hit the “I relish the balm of a Coltrane sax
collecting shadows of the evening.” I was definitely hooked. Oh yes, I can hear B.B. and Lena, been way too long since I’ve had the opportunity to sit and just take it in, the very essence of real life no facades. I have to tell you we were fortunate enough to go to John Lee’s (Hooker) last live performance. What a treat. However, for me, I’m an Etta James fan. Your poem transported me to another time, a place where people are people, where it isn’t a crime to. Your poem set a fire in my vanes, just wish it were possible to be there but you’ve given me the next best thing, I got to be there in my mind. Days like today when the body fights every intention are so difficult, only the memories and dreams at times seem to be left. You are so gifted, this is truly a winner and I thank you so much for sharing this with us. Now I will re-read your poem and return to the place your words have woven for me.
Lora
PS Somtimes B.B. still does the blues/jazz in the park thing here.
This Poem was Critiqued By: DeniMari Z. On Date: 2005-08-26 20:08:06
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71429
Dear Mell,
My first thought on this poem, was a childhood memory. My father considered B.B. Kings music to be "X" rated back then, and wouldn't let me listen to it.......
Back to your poem, breathtaking if you ask me. I love the first few lines, especially the storm entering the day, great imagery that compelled me to read more. You have captured a performance, within a few verses,
again with imagery that brings the poem to life in front of my eyes.
This piece is quite unique, great idea choosing music as the subject - it's a fresh idea which was
enjoyed and will be remembered by this reader.
Best to you Mell,
sincerely,
DeniMari
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