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Click hereRoyalty in alpaca and weejuns,
blonde king with khaki crown,
statuesque queen from robin's forest.
Soulful sound delivered
to armories and veteran huts.
Beach rhythm audio,
Zodiacs, Tams, Georgia Prophet bands
booked by our king and queen.
Last bastian from British invasion,
southern belles - redneck dukes
being black on a Saturday night.
Thorne come apart several years ago,
she back to the forest,
he travels with a mardi gras band,
hair still blonde as ever.
Separately not collectively seen,
when each one passes in my view-
horns come alive, music kills the blues,
here comes Saturday nite,
And I still get some sand in my shoes.
So Glad I read Jim's review, I almost MISSED this one.
Sand in your shoe indeed.... love it
a jambing poem with some great alliteration in the first stanza. A wonderful drumming rhythm in enhanced with the word sounds. The second stanza though lost the beat as you seemed to roll into a dialogue, but then just as suddenly slipped out of it. "Separately not collectively seen," hit a low point, that only slightly recovered in the following lines. In the movie, Rene Zelweiger said "You had me at 'Hello.'" Well you had me through "...being black on a Saturday night." but then lost me in the second stanza.
I think you worked on stanza two, carrying that spirit, word play and rhythm from the first stanza this poem would dance.
jim : )
great images and rhythms.
a touch of voodoo and jamaica
makes me want gumbo
thank you