Pic of the day

Pic of the day
Somehow, she's always the one up here.

Sunday, April 2, 2017

The space of Al Capone

Off and on the beat,
on the rocks or neat,
the neon sign stabs
with the musical jabs
of the trio of jazz
playing with pizzazz.
The ivories, they tickle
to a jazz beat, fickle,
soprano or baritone,
in the space of Al Capone.

Sit by the stage,
no matter the age.
or adore
tweeple, sheeple,
magical, mythical.
Hear it singing;
cymbals ringing:
syncopating hearts,
the metronome’s parts.
No beat’s ever alone
in the space of Al Capone.

The crescendo peaks
and music speaks;
brushes carve a beat
on the rocks or neat.
Among lovers, necking
and hen parties, pecking,
let Byron manifest
as cello seduces chest.
Must beat poets cry
at music so they can try -
Try to keep time:
in arrhythmia, find rhyme?
Brushstrokes on murals reveal
colours of the drummer's peal.
Colours of movie magic
or Shakespearean-ly tragic -
The colours gather tone
in the space of Al Capone.

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