Rhythm And Blues

The cymbals create, A mesmerizing sound Reaching their brass highs I sit listening to the blues come alive. The music is guiding me, Reminding me of sounds and sights We've infused our vibes, our lives In our tune's beat, making it sound all right! I stroll down the streets, I can hear the Musicians Nine They're blowing into their tin horns Enticing everyone around them to listen. Tiny Foster is there: Effortlessly strumming on his cords Making enchanting melodies on his Beat-nick guitar; he records. People are passionately sitting, They started reciting in their poetries Speaking their lines in rhythmic rhymes Talking in verse, laying out some lines. Representing themselves profoundly with articulations, In the beauty of prose, it was best that I mention An atmosphere that leads on for hours, contemplations You can get lost in it if you give in to an elongation.