Just An Old Trumpet Player
JJust an old trumpet player with a worn out horn –
Seems he had played it ever since he was born.
Sometimes his lively music put dancing in your feet.
Then there were times he rendered tones so tranquil and so sweet.
So many came to follow this magic little man
That soon he was known as the best in music land.
He drew the best unto him and formed a little band
And added perfect talent to the world of Dixieland.
Sometimes he would sing a little verse or two
And he would make it sound like it was just for you.
He was known the whole world over - heaven watched him too
And his music was so soulful it could sometimes make you blue.
In his life we witnessed greatness only artists can provide
And even heaven’s angels cried the day sweet Louis died.
Some say even Gabriel didn’t know how to behave
The day we put old ‘Satchmo’ in his grave.
So, gentle trumpet man, may you always rest in peace
We recall an instant, when you left us, all the music ceased.
Written by John Posey
9/11/14
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
