Best Brass Band Poems
Merry trumpet, sassy saxophone
Stand poised in the quaint jazz room,
waiting on their music men
to begin their heartfelt tunes.
Bold drums awaiting patiently
For slim sturdy wooden sticks,
to beat rhythm on their tummies
and give all fun loving kicks.
Great tuba's vigorous chiming voice
so deep and oh so grand!
Brings heart and soul and humor
To the jolly good brass band.
Round banjo with its steely strings
gets plucked and strummed with joy
As it sounds those fun and lively tunes
that we hum and so enjoy.
Majestic piano's harmonic keys,
Tap melodious magnificient airs
Reverberating ubiquitously,
By the maestro graced with flair.
In delightful unison they permeate our souls,
These musical masters and their wares.
Give glory to our "Ultimate Composer",
Whose creations are so debonair.
May 13, 2016
(Revised December 2016)
Someone in a small town
gave me a place after losing my home.
The window of my room in the morning
gave waking visions of a yard in bloom.
The family cavalier spaniel
gave company when I was alone.
The park where we walked
gave a fresh breeze to ease my thoughts.
The breath of a fresh breeze
gave new life and inspiration.
The mother playing with her child
gave a moment’s affection.
The lady down the street
gave odd jobs for spare change.
The local food pantry
gave a basket of food.
Its social worker
gave words of comfort.
The brass band in the band shell
gave a song to remember.
The bartender at the corner tap
gave a free whiskey and a hug.
The view out my window at night
gave visions of a town in slumber.
The small town I found
gave what I needed most.
Today's Sounds
Music rolls off the banjo, bluegrass
Active cheery sound, gland it’s around,
Folk music in little town passed down by word of mouth;
Family remembers and other people too, and songs abound.
Symphony sounds dynamic notes through the grand hall,
Aria Nessun Dorma rapturous great joy emotion,
Opera transports to a lofty feeling, heavenly classical,
Piano music and classical guitar uplifting feeling locomotion.
Listen, echoing 14th century chant cathedral music,
Hymn captivating, baroque music alive to this day,
History’s not historical, it’s not even past; and organ rolls on,
Waltz smoothly wafts across the air through the dance hall bay.
Ice cream parlor music cheerful tunes with hot fudge sundae,
Oldies music reminiscence rock ‘n’ roll, jazz, country and western feeling,
Big band dance music, rhythm and blues, brass band thrill,
Gospel music, spirituals, and blues, highland healing.
Motion picture music score jumps high fidelity positive
Enjoyment, touching stereo button to instrumental music roll,
Relax in the day, easy listening music comfortable rest,
Sound waves motions ear drums, people listen alive soul.
There was an old lady from Ireland
Who was frightened to death by a brass band
We watched with dismay
As without delay
They buried her corpse in the band stand
Contest : Slapstick Limerick Contest
5th Place
Prideful Display
Stand on your rock
waving your flag
to the sound of your
own brass band
as though the fanfare
will bring you notice
lasting more than an instant
in the breezy blue.
Remember the crowd is fickle
Form:
One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care
Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand
Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground
Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap
Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared
Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"
Things Have Changed
By Robert (Bob) Moore
When I was young, the doctor, came around if I got sick
gave me a pill, or needle, and that would do the trick
but thing have changed, and now we ring, his receptionist
who tells us, “you can come next week. I’ll put you on the list”
So you go round, the next week, sit in a little room
full of germs and sick folk, the air so full of gloom
yes he says, you’ve had the flu, his hand upon my brow
just stay home, don’t catch a chill, he says this to me now.
And then there was the milkman, came round every day
you can catch up next week missus, if you couldn’t pay
leave money on the doorstep, the empty bottles too
nobody would touch it, ‘cause everybody knew
Everyone was battling, just to make ends meet
nobody was richer, than the others in the street
we’d try to help each other, in any way we could
we may not have had very much, but life was pretty good
The breadman was the next to go, now he delivered to the shops
you had to go and buy your bread, with your bacon and your chops
that’s if you could afford to, things were getting very dear
you tried to keep your chin up, things could be better by next year
Then there was the paperboy, on street corners he would stand
yelling out the headlines, didn’t need no big brass band
“GET YOUR PAPER HERE” he’d cry “WHATS HAPPENING TODAY”
but I hardly even read the news, now he has gone away
or the boy who had the barrow, on a Sunday he would go
up and down the streets, and his whistle he would blow
he knew you might still be in bed, but he would wait outside
knowing as a regular, there’d be a bob or two on the side
Then there was the mailman, he would whistle too,
especially, if he had left, important mail for you
the internet, and social media, have dealt him a deadly blow
and that is why I’m pretty sure, he will be the next to go
Oh come all ye faithful to a lovely little town
Oldie worldie houses have windows of brown
Snow filled window corners like Dickensian age
The holly and the ivy adorn the Christmas stage
Christmas trees outside the shops lit up so pleasantly
The subtle light is given off from each and every tree
When entering this quaint little town the magic of years gone by
Takes us back to Victorian times with the wonder of it we sigh
Hot chestnuts are roasting the aroma fills the air
People sipping hot mulled wine at the Christmas fair
Children are singing carols excited by it all
Waiting for the hour to come when Santa will call
The big brass band is playing in the square
People and children are now everywhere
Carrying their lanterns lighting their way
What a lovely place to visit on Christmas Day
(Entered in Carolyn's Christmas Contest)
There goes a lonely soul in a coffin
carried by pallbearers which step forward with slow-pace
a funeral leader goes with black umbrella up
the brass band follows:
the trumpet vomits blood from its shredded heart,
one step forwards leaning to left
the trombone steps backward heaving a heavy sigh,
two steps leaning to right;
when the saxophone scatters wandering spirits in the air
the spirits twist their bodies with the sax yearning for lost paradise;
the tuba, on the verge of tears, struggles to advance out of breath,
keeps swaying its bulky body trying not to fallout from the line.
The enchanting melodies of Dixieland,
appeal not only to the mourners but
curious bystanders ears as well.
A Prayer Answered
I used to live in a bubble, fun filled and care free
But now my life is similar to autumn leaves under an oak tree
My daughter’s funeral music echoing from the brass band
Heap by heap her grave is filled with sand
“God how am I suppose too carry on?”
Death is so final, my daughter is forever gone!
She was so brave yet so small,
If fighting could be measured, she would stand tall
“God answer me, give me a sign!”
“And please don’t tell me it would all be revealed in time”
“My child why so angry, I answered you even before you asked.
Seven years ago, you married a brown eyed girl I assigned to a task.
She will be the pillow when you weep.
Share your nightmares when you can’t sleep
She will be your pillar of strength when you fall apart.
Pick up the pieces and carry in her pocket your broken heart.”
It's clear. Sunny deadly town,
its square with old young bones is lined.
Cold furtive faces wave the flag
and soldiers guard them and the time.
On concrete a brass band struck up,
A man stepped on a carpet red.
His hand he's keeping on his chest,
into a pantheon heavy steps.
Its fatty body's clapping out,
a daughter of Jezebel on stage,
one right-believer, three lean men.
A speech. A pause. A burst of cheers.
Minsk. April 8th, 2006
The ghost of Lincolnshire's Daughter
Tonight smiles from her grave
With the locking of iron gates
Ends a plan that she made
Every father passed to his son
A family craft that was unbroken
Doffing of peaks, kept in line
With the banksman's pit token
Then with questions of fairness
Would lead to great losses
They would stand toe to toe
With their betters and pit bosses
Westminster Right would revel
In a working class decline
Pomposity and misuse of
Yorkshire's Thin Blue Line
So with lungs blackened with dust
A once strong Union's last stand
They walked out lamenting
To tunes of the colliery brass band
Duchess in her finery
Duke in his chair
people wander round
looking without care
Taking airs and graces
talking with a plum
searching night for treason
drinking too much rum
Livery boy falls over
lady screams in fear
was that Queen Victoria
leaving out the rear ?
Abused and mistreated
maid’s hurry about their toil
cooks in the kitchen
covered in grease and oil
Cats lay in the wicker
dogs are in the bins
orphan child gets sicker
rags don’t warm a sin
Waste flows through streets
rarely washed or swept
whores on the corner
working off her debt
Bible was the only book
church ruled the land
sometimes a dangerous place
to play your last hand
Grandmother reigned in glory
Hanover rulers stand
Victoria’s wonder years
played to a brass band
Form:
Goodbye my child, I am the sinner but God called upon you.
Your life was so short, the years didn't even tick till two.
Goodbye my child, as you listening from above to the brass band,
Your coffin in the ground, me frantically filling your grave with sand!
Goodbye my child, I am crying but have to let you go.
Your curtain has fallen, it is the end of your "live" show
Goodbye my child, this is the end but also a new start,
You an angel now, watching over us, our personal guard.
Goodbye my child, you took my heart with you when you died,
Goodbye my child, goodbye
The Donkey of Destiny
The party was set, the guests were invited,
The adults were happy, the kids all excited.
All going to plan; the hosts were delighted,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
The Board of Directors set forth their campaign,
To conquer their industry, supremely reign,
To guarantee ultimate financial gain,
Til the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
Military leaders made their decision,
Troops were deployed with painstaking precision.
Soon they would realise their tactical vision,
Then the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
To amuse the young children, a day out was planned,
Buckets and spades and sunshine and sand.
Ice-cream and fish-and-chips; seaside brass band,
But the Donkey of Destiny brayed – he-haw!
The Donkey of Destiny brayed.
There’s nothing as fickle as Destiny’s Donkey,
Capricious as weather, and sly as a monkey,
Be certain that everyone’s hopes will turn funky,
When the Donkey of Destiny brays – he-haw!
When the Donkey of Destiny brays.