Short Downbeat Poems

code name for hustler
sordid, downbeat, serious—
Joe Buck and Rico...

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I’ll apologise here at the start
For this verse won’t appeal to your heart.
So banal, it’s a shame
But I’ll shoulder the blame
’Cos it's not rude, nor funny, nor smart!...

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~ downbeat ~

   cold feet
   seek heat

   they meet
   hot seat
 
   no treat
   they tweet
 
   these feet
   mincemeat

   we're beat
   they bleat

   complete
   defeat

   drumbeat
   downbeat...

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Upbeat or downbeat
Yet all in a heartbeat
Joy or sorrow, today or tomorrow
Happy or sad, good or bad
Harmony or strife
All rhythms of life

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Bite Size Poem #35 Poetry Contest
Honorable Mention...

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I
God still reigns
What pains?
Count it gain
I won't complain
Jesus took ALL
I stand tall

II
Yes, people plot
What (have) they got?
Love, try forgiveness
Oft a long process
But no other way
Wars cannot stay
They start in hearts
Stop shooting (eye) darts...

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the smooth jazz café
dark roast and espresso shot
three sugar one cream

served in a dark cup
coffee bean image table
background bach blues band

comfy chill out sounds
smooth relax bossa nova
viola snare drums

cello string upbeat
piano caffeine downbeat
calm sax easy street


stan sand...

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Treading along the avenues of iniquity
The downbeat of mollifying choruses alleviate my ears
Ambivalent logic scours my cerebellum
A frown composed of disdain surfaces
Whilst I seek a hero amongst such strange clouds
I covet to taste of the superlative pleasures ‘tis Mother Earth
Though I am left to contemplate when next my happenings...

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A funny thing, perception
Up the hill towards twenty-one
The dawdling clock seems never to run
Only its movement belies deception

After twenty-five, an odd exchange
No pace of a sluggish plodder
The downbeat of the tread is hotter
Daunting milestones within range

Now, the fleeting measure races
Seasons trade with reckless flurry
The ticking gallop leaves me blurry
To arrest this sprint, my mind chases...

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My underwear is Fruit of the Loom
You're welcome for that mental sight
Anyway, I thought that seemed poetic
To me then, fruit of the pen seems right

What fruit juice then, spurts from my pen
You might just hesitate to think
Juice that could be sweet or downbeat
That flies but then falls in the sink

But whether my dribble is a scribble
Or a comparative master piece
Most of the time I find a rhyme
And wonder if wonders never cease!...

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Fiasco

Burnt down, fatigued, no feelings left, 
So devastated, world means no heft
I am not a phoenix to rise from ashes
Soul does not let receive new lashes.

I am plagued with tortures of ill fate 
Downbeat and broken, it is time to rate
My noble deeds and even wicked
My Lord, I beg, don’t be too strict!

Would love to live a century more,
But locked for me the main door
I knocked at it ten thousand times
Then I came back with all that grime....

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He hit the downbeat, found the blues,
Not to mention having no clues.
The jazz man could improvise and drag,
'Bad Penny Blues' an infamous rag. 

Slurring between riffs with such ease,
Trumpet proud he stood out from the sleaze.
Vamp chords repeated for our delight,
dissonance of students in bars each night. 

Jazz club hero Humph always will be,
Jam sessions when all tried to follow thee. 
And though no fun for your vetting,
His music alone was knicker-wetting!...

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