Best Cole Poems
A few notes set a rhythm
The foxtrot beckons
Across the crowded room they smile
Nat's melodic tone frames the dance
Towards each other they move
And then they are one
Bodies locked in a dance embrace
The romantic shades of four-four time
Float across the meadows of their hearts
Effortlessly they glide across the floor
Feather step, reverse turn, natural weave
Flowing movements are but second nature
Others gaze on in wonder
As every elegant step unfolds
One beautiful, musical love story
Music fades, but their light shines brightly
They look, they laugh, they kiss
Then arm-in-arm they dance into the future
Living life to their stardust melody
George Washington Cole
1827 – 1911
So here I sleep.
Buried in this dirt.
Covered in this earth.
Returning to the dust.
Finding heaven in the whispers of the wind.
And as for all my friends here,
All these stilled silent voices of Clark Cemetery,
We represent just a single sand pebble
Just a minute solitary dust particle
In an ever expanding infinite universe
Of shadows and scant tracings.
Travel to any city or town in the United States,
Or any sovereign country on Terra Firma,
And you will find the endless names of us,
The dead,
Who lived and died since the onset
Of the Gilded Age of Bessemer steel.
And those endless lists of the dead are nothing,
Nothing in comparison to the endless lists
Of the by-gone personages before us,
The past generations,
Who breathed and sighed and spasmed
Since the onset of Eden’s first heartbeat.
My friends, we are all so small,
And so minuscule.
Does it not behoove us to dance
Even while the music plays?
Does it not behoove us to be kind,
Even when the cruel day
Finally slaps us on the side of our faces?
So here I sleep.
Buried deep in this forgotten grave
Just a whispering shadow of a former man
Awaiting with baited breath
The blare of the last trumpet!
(in Memory of the late, legendary singer, Nat King Cole)
Once a great balladere, was
Nat King Cole
Singing like captivating US,
was his main goal
A tendency, he had to swallow
Us up, whole
Having a Big voice full of Power
and Soul
How it often kept Us in Spirits,
"on a roll"
Why, he could make come from
under- a mole
It's No wonder, He, many hearts,
had stole
All you have to do is listen to his music
Most importantly, listen...
To that haunting, booming velvet voice of his
His signature song is "Unforgettable"
The man himself, is that, and much more
One of the greatest interpreters of song
That America, and the world over, has ever produced
More than just a great singer
He was a truly gifted pianist as well
The first African-American to host a national TV show
One of the very few African-American entertainers
To be embraced by White America in a very segregated America
That glory came with a price
He had to constantly deal with racism
In practically all facets of his life
And he did it all with class and quiet dignity
Despite being a trailblazer
Despite being one of the most successful musicians
Of his era, he remained a humble man
Until his untimely death on February 15th, 1965
At the young age of 45 from lung cancer
Long gone, much too soon, but he continues to live on
Through his music. The late, great Nat King Cole
If I could, I would bring him back, in a heartbeat
Who Would You Bring Back in A Heartbeat Poetry
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger (Winner: 2nd Place)
Date written and posted: 10/05/2018
Personal
Nat King Cole
Inspired
Tears streaming, come to life, from these brown eyes,
eyes that have been as dry as a popcorn fart,
out in the middle of some desert
and as dead as road kill on the Q. E.,
at the height of rush hour traffic.
A heart, dead, for longer than I care to remember.
Death, dyeing are but empty words,
words that describe a process
we will never get to know.
For that brief, all inclusive, elusive, moment,
passing, like yesterday into history, into today,
today into tomorrow, tomorrow into the future.
Words that create an invisible line, a division
that we cannot see, feel, fathom, yet believe exists
as it stops, before change, and then moves on
– as I watch life, before me, pass - in all its glory,
grows, changes, gains, loses, triumphs, destroys, creates.
Reflecting upon my own life, I have to wonder ?,
how empty, meaningless, has it been, and if,
I have given nothing, will leave nothing, and if,
nothing will remain, nothing will be remembered.
B. J. “A ” 2
February 18th 2003
Cole hated rainy days. He looked out of his window. He watched the raindrops bounce off the ground. Through grey clouds, a beam of light touched his face. "Why are you hiding, Mr. Sun? Did you have a bad day today?" Mr. Sun frowned and hid his face. The clouds yelled at Cole. "Why do you only care about Mr. Sun? We are the ones who bathe the flowers!" Cole shook his head and pleaded with the clouds, "You always seem so unhappy! I didn't mean to make you sad!" The clouds cried while the wind whispered, "Why do you only care about the clouds and Mr. Sun? I am the one who dances with the leaves. I am the one who sings with the bells." Cole cuffed his ears with his hands. "I care about all of you! Can't everybody be happy?" he begged. The bells began to chime and yell at once, "WHY CAN'T YOU BE HAPPY?" The church bell tolled for Cole. In a sudden gasp, he jumped up from his slumber. He wandered over to the window. He smiled at the rain.
A bright Texas sun
Beat down upon this day
In the middle few should know
A teenage soul should stray
Stolen by a thief
With no apparent motivation
This man offered
No explanation
A mighty blast filled the air
She had wronged none
All of a sudden
Her life was undone
Now robbed of her life
She shall carry on
With the pull of a trigger
She was forever gone
Yet carry on she shall
Carry on Shelly Cole
For your passing was
Out of your control
Happy you shall be
In the heavens above
Wings you shall have
Like that of a dove
Your beauty lives on
Long past your breath
It was near devastating
When informed of your death
Shelly, O Shelly
What has been done?
For your eyes where brighter
Than that of the sun
Though your body lies motionless
On that of the floor
Your soul shall undoubtedly
Live evermore
Carry on Shelly
Carry on
...or It's good to be the king!
What was't made King Cole
Such a merry old soul
As he sucked on his pipe,
And he supped from his bowl,
And he fiddled around
With three young court musicians?
And what was the role
Of his missus, Queen Cole?
Was she under a table
With a lad from the stable
Who was told he'd be able
To upgrade his position?
These royal highnesses
Were not known for their shynesses,
But more for their quaint peculiarities.
The queen drank from a chalice
That was shaped like a phallus,
While he labored away
Doing king things all day
In a black lace brassière
And a pink negligée.
But their subjects adored
Such eccentric vulgarities.
Now, getting back to the king,
That sweet silly old thing,
Here's how his story played out.
He had good years aplenty,
Then at three score and twenty,
He finally retired
And expired of the gout.
He is a San Diego native southpaw.
One of the best young pitchers I ever saw.
The Phillies chose him first in 2002.
In 2006 was his big league debut.
He has made his presence felt with all the teams.
He can baffle the best of hitters, it seems.
With wins and strikeouts, he will be the team’s ace.
Nobody can knock “King Cole” out of his place.
He will be pitching with many home crowd cheers.
May he delight Phillies fans for many years.
Elements synthesize
Establishing brilliance
Mosaic
Sound elevates
Electric symphonies
Frequency
Vocals ascend
Ricocheting amour
Phoenix
Speech perishes
Shock scarves
Mastery
I drive up to the ranch house
The house is dark inside
I walk in and turn the lights on
Go straight towards the bar
No! I don't want to drown my sorrow
Just need to ease the pain
I walk away from all the bottles
Get a glass and add some ice
I reach into the fridge
Pull out a bottle of Bailey's Irish Creme
...Your favorite
Put on some Nat King Cole music
...Your favorite
Sit down at the table to sip the Irish creme
I rub the glass between my hands
As if I rub it long enough
A genie will appear
I would only ask for one wish...
That you return my dear
Funny how a fairly tough man
Can break an arm and hardly whimper
An accidental deep cut and not a tear
But the woman you love leaves you
You hang your head and almost cry
I called you on your cell phone
Left a message on your voicemail
Said sorry and I want you home
That was early in the morning
You didn't return my call
I left the untouched glass on the table
Went to get some sleep
Heard a noise a little later
Went to see what could be wrong
There you sat at the kitchen table
Another Bailey's in your hand
With a smile you handed me my glass
And asked "you want to dance"?
The sky is well-lighted with bright stars
The streets are littered with shiny cars
The motorists are playing Xmas carols
The children are excited ‘cause Mr. Claus
Papa Noel is coming in person tonight
To bring toys to boys who did not fight
This year and gifts to girls and gals
Who have been good all year long
Let's sing along, let's sing this song
Peace to the World, Love to the Universe
Like Nat King Cole; there is no need to rehearse.
Copyright © December,2016 Logerie Hébert, All Rights Reserved
Hebert Logerie is the author of several collections of poems.
The man they called 'King'
On Chicago's South Side
With a voice smooth as silk
Pearly teeth smiling wide
Hit after hit, from 'Mona Lisa'
To 'Unforgettable'
Not a number one hit among them
~ Whites wary of his ghetto pull
Icebergs floated all around me –
frozen is no place to safely flee.
I fell down on an ice crystal,
then I heard you whistle
and felt myself turn towards bold
so I could leave this place so cold.
So many crevices and cracks.
Frigid ice coated my back.
A glacier's huge backhand
flew our memories to slush land.
As my shivers began to shake,
I felt my knees tremble and quake.
Love never knows its hold on tomorrow.
Days are not warm laced against sorrow.
Your repeat, sleety emotion
will not ease glacial commotion.
Frozen mist will not reinstall
your flaming, toasty love recall.
I bear your gift of numb fraught,
that will thaw in icebergs not.
When I was not ready you came into my life
I wasn't yet grown up, or even a wife
The time had come to take on a mother’s role
I looked into your eyes and named you Cole
With eyes of blue and the thickest hair
I no longer had a doubt or even a care
The moment I held you and swaddled you tight
I was so glad to be a mother it just felt right
You took your first steps long before turning a year
and shortly your first words were spoke in my ear
Your first day of school was filled with nervous fright
You came home with a smile you were the teachers delight
Now you've grown to thirteen and you've gotten so tall
you no longer need me when you stumble and fall
Although you’re a young man and you don't have a care
Remember your mommy because I'll always be there