Please enjoy today’s selection: “If Jimi Hadn’t Died So Young” by dan raphael which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

If Jimi Hadn’t Died So Young

In this world Jimi Hendrix didn’t die at 27
but kept advancing his prowess on the guitar,
playing two at once, multiple strings. like Chaplin
he could do anything he did
backwards as well, and sometimes would start a song in the middle
and go 4 or 6 different ways from there,
ensphering himself and listeners
in shifting laminae of sound.

At a show in Philly most of the audience blacked out,
several suffered “stroke-like symptoms,” two disappeared.
With a lawsuit filed by a victim, the government seized Jimi’s guitars,
the Pentagon volunteering to study the evidence.
More guitars were built.
More people plugged into Hendrix
and played guitars several hours a day.
No one knew if Jimi was in jail, hiding, or if his playing
had opened new dimensions in vibratory time.

Are we still on the same world we started on?
What chords could I make with 9 strings and six fingers?
Reports of others disappearing while Hendrix played, with the feds
suppressing the total.
On March 1st
a 10 meter tall transparent creature emitting guitar-like sounds
shattered a 2 kilometer stretch of the great wall of China,
then vanished in a rancid fog.
In paranoid anticipation, guitarists cleared music store shelves
of strings.

The sun rose with ear splitting feedback surrendering
to an arpeggio of random vertebra,
nerve triggers ranging from St. Vitus to waltz, many unable to drive
coz theyre feet wouldn’t stay still. Radios were ignored, no ear buds
could keep out the panoply of music, bodies finding new limbs,
my feet trading myccorhizally while my suddenly tendriled hair
embraces the pollen filled sky, billions of microscopic notes
ready to bloom into life-expanding solos,
some neighborhoods so thick with music
you need neither amplifier or guitar, you and the air
collaborating symphonies
to take us where we never could be.

The post Poem of the Day (04-25-2018) appeared first on The Poetry Box.

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Tracy Chapman” by David Jibson, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

Tracy Chapman

Give Me One Reason presents a real challenge.
What reason, if I’m allowed only one,
would be good enough?

My granddaughter, who idolizes Ariana Grande,
asks me who is singing. I tell her.
Then she wants to know if it’s a man or a woman
because she can’t tell from the voice or the name.

I listen to Tracy strum and pick her way
through the sharps and sevenths
of her perfect blues progression.

I answer back to her,
“Give me one reason why it matters.”

The post Poem of the Day (04-21-2018) appeared first on The Poetry Box.

Please enjoy today’s selection: “Let it Be” by Connie Post, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

Let it Be

When I was nine
Paul McCartney’s voice
seeped through the bottom cracks
of all the doors in the house

“When I find myself in times of trouble”
how a young girl plays
the same music in her room
as if the singer knows
her name
her crumpled, simple thoughts

“Mother Mary comes to me”
how a young girl
believes the man inside
the record player knows
when she is taking off her dress

“Whisper words of Wisdom”
how a man’s voice can understand
there is no mother
no words
no rosary bead
sturdy enough for this heavy a prayer

“Let it Be, Let it Be”
and she does
Let it be, only to let it fall
as she swallows the rosary
the beads, the cross
the song

and it crumbles
like the lyrics
that broke in her hand
upon learning
how to leave a room

The post Poem of the Day (04-14-2018) appeared first on The Poetry Box.

Please enjoy today’s selection: “What We Thought We Heard” by Jan Haag, which appears in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems about Music:

What We Thought We Heard

(misunderstood song lyrics)

On a dark desert highway, Cool Whip in my hair.
Hold me closer, Tony Danza.
Count the head lice on the highway.
You might as well face it, you’re a dick with a glove.
Because sweet dreams are made of cheese.
Donuts make my brown eyes blue.
I’ve got two chickens to paralyze.
It’s the age of asparagus.
The ants are my friends, they’re blowin’ in the wind.
Do you like bean enchiladas?
I like big butts and a can of limes.
Like a virgin, touched for the thirty-first time.
The sheep don’t like it — rock the catbox, rock the catbox.
You walked into the potty like you were walking onto a yacht.
Theeeeeere’s a bathroom on the right.
Joy to the visions that the people see.
Goodbye, aubergine.
I’ll never leave your pizza burnin’.

The post Poem of the Day (04-07-2018) appeared first on The Poetry Box.