Solos Poems | Examples

beyond the shackles

Once I was starling voice at dawn, 
A flock of chimed echoes on my tongue,
Wheezing whistles on choralled lawn,
Each verse a mimic so sweetly sung.

Now I’m a lyrebird lost in the brush,
Framing my solos in shadowed boughs,
With heart unfolding in trembling rush,
A lonesome lilting with hidden vows.

With cheeslets and flummox in my beak,
I sift the flock’s bright feathers from my core,
Icarus maps afresh a path unique,
A broken wing that yearns to soar.

There’s no rewind on a mimic’s mind,
No true home in borrowed refrains,
Yet in these feathers a quiet find,
A voice that’s raised beyond the chains.





.

King of Clowns

You laughed too hard in 1996/
Thought I'd trip and stay down for kicks/
But I climbed back up, twice the size/
Now I shred, watch the sparks fly/
My drummer joked, said guitars are lame/
Left him roadside, questioning fame/ 
Why does a guitar need a case, he asked/
To contain its stringed up past/
Steel strings bend, the pick obeys/
My solos melt minds in dazzling rays/
You call it noise; I call it fate/
Crowds roar, my riffs attack/
Like a clown with a vengeance strapped to his back/
Why did the guitar cross the road/
To escape tuning abuse overload/
Strumming stainless, lyrics sharp/
Every chord bite, every note barks/
What's a guitarist least favorite job/
A fretting accountant, stuck in a fog/
Clowns don't cry, we shred and slay/
This guitar doesn't play, it dictates the day/
Why did the guitar get detention in class/
It couldn't stop playing tricks so crass/
Now I roll into your town, no disguise/
My solos make statues blink their eyes/
One last joke before I'm done/
Why don't guitars ever tell lies/
Because their strings keep them strung/

spring song

cool breeze gently hugs
moist mud mildly maneuvers ~
stilled seeds sing solos

Dreamlands

A parade of floating, verdant fields 
appear within a clouded dream
idyllic islands in the sky
a tranquil vision, peaceful sigh
of heavenly serenity. 

Yet now, the scene is set adrift
by ominous and darkened twists
of blackened branches 
that weave and weave 
they suffocate and bring unease
within this solemn surreal sight 
of stricken trees that die at night. 

Now all around these floating fields
sad, lonesome cattle graze
they graze and graze 
in an endless maze
how strange and sullen are their ways
it leaves the mind in a perpetual haze. 

A muted sky surrounds
with drifts amidst the clouds above 
and still below, more clouds abound 
within this realm, both high and low
dark solos haunt 
they ever wail and mark the spot
where dreams await their end, their lot
by what is not, by what is not.

Giacomo Gates The Hip Jazz Cat

The Hip Jazz Cat/Tony Adamo
 Step up, Man, get up, let me hip you to this/ a jazz cat who weaves words and sings/ People, It’s Giacomo Gates/
 He’s the master of vocalese a hipster’s delight/ A storyteller with echoes of Buckley and Mark Murphey’s wise vocal flair/
 his voice dances on stages as if floating on air/ Eddie Jefferson’s charm and Jon Hendricks’ grace/ when he opens up to sing/this jazz cat is full of swing/
 captivating the crowd he swings a groove spell/ entertaining the masses in jazz clubs that know him well/
 He’s amusing and musical/ a hipster so rare/Bebop is in his veins, Man, Giacomo Gates is out of the world and the next one too/ “Where did this cat come from?” Savant Records only knows/
  with Bird’s solos beneath him and Giacomo’s melodic variation on words/ turning notes into scatting stories/   Gates be cookin’ the most/ so get hip to it and raise your hands high/ the Gospel of jazz will never die/  dig his jazz scene and let his lyrical journey make you high/ In a world full of noise/ Giacomo Gates is the voice you need, the hipster jazz cat who is somethin’ else, you’ll see, you’ll believe!

Jazz on a Billboard

Jazz on a billboard,
a flash of notes,
Urgent beats, syncopation, improvisation,
and impromptu solos but why jazz on a billboard?
What’s the hap’s on that?
Man, what is the impact of the word jazz on a billboard anyway?
Syncopation is alive,
solos breaking free,
and a temporary show,
but is jazz here to stay?
Does a billboard for Jazz tell us about all the arranging, playing, composing
finding a paying gig, radio spins, music reviews,
band members quitting to get out of the jazz life?
Cars whiz by, faces turned,
who cares about the sound of jazz anyway
The tenor horn says
"Listen up, Listen here
Jazz is everywhere,
and like nowhere to be found
So, dig this
Every jazz note,
every gig, every miss,
and every jazz player who lives jazz behind
Jazz shapes your life with a heartbreaking rhythm.
So, here’s to the journey,
to hip beats and downbeats
Jazz is life on a billboard,
is hip for some passers-by to see
to feel, to groove, to feel where you're at
To come alive, jazz is for real
and that's my dance in life

TEA for TWO nursery ryhme

2
a tea party for two
just me & you

in your best birthday dress
you'll be a success

we'll have jelly,cream&cake
& a take-home keepsake

there will be games&songs
some solos & a few singalongs

so please.. quickly... r s  v p 
by text to yours so very truly

Love Like This

Reflected in morning, rising in the still light – birdsong, strumming guitar solos on the winds of hope ~ quote by poet

~~~~~~~~~~

Graceful wings, rustling gently with softest song,
Amazing the wind with ballads so stirring
playing with July’s zeal, in hues who belong.

Singing hope and joy as the stars weep, blurring
Those moments of tender kisses, sharing life
Like the skies with their affections recurring.

Silent mists whisper sighs who cut like a knife,
Stilling aching prayers with sweet compassion,
Healing lonely souls who’ve known such heavy strife.

Love this alive never goes out of fashion,
Listen to that light flowing over blessed souls,
His amazing grace marks the worst fears ashen.

Despite what some believe, only God consoles,
When the worst comes, just believe, His love controls.

LIFE IS A SONG

LIFE IS A SONG

Throat cleared and a first breath taken
Life has begun and it’s full of surprises
Soon to sing loudly, but softly at first
A few wrong notes, it’s not the worst
Then keep in tune as the melody rises
From deep within, a voice will awaken

It matures in pitch as the years pass by
From treble to tenor and then baritone
Reflecting life with its twists and turns
But in harmony with others’ concerns
Passionate voice, not a heart of stone
Yet in later years, it takes time to fly

At a certain age, sadly a singing pause
Listening brings back a choral memory
No more solos and a wide vocal range
Remembering a part now feels strange
And a rasping tone sounds like emery
One day, it'll be just residents applause

Ode to Chuck Barry

The Father of Rock and Roll was not Elvis.
It was Chuck Barry, wild man from Chicago
He was the rhythm and blues king
His guitar solos and showmanship are legend.

Today we still hear some of his best songs on the radio.
Johnny Be Good, Nadine, Maybelline, Ding-a-Ling
Sweet Little Sixteen, Memphis Tennessee
He was amazingly talented, and marvelously fun to watch!

Harlem Nocturne

In the heart of Harlem's nocturnal embrace,
where the moon's silver threads interlace.
Streetlamps hum a jazz-filled tune,
underneath the city's ebony dune.

Brownstone whispers, history untold,
in the rhythm of the Harlem night's hold.
A symphony of footsteps on cobblestone,
each echo a tale, each shadow, a home.

Saxophone solos from an open window,
melodies that the city's heart knows.
Dancing notes in the summer air,
as dreams ascend the winding stair.

Voices rise from the stoops below,
poetry in the cadence, in the ebb and flow.
In the Harlem night, stars align,
a constellation of stories, yours and mine.

Countee's verses echo on these streets,
where the past and present gently meets.
Harlem's heartbeat, a rhythmic boon,
sung in the verses of a Harlem nocturne.

Autumn Serenade POTD

10-20-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
autumn serenade

autumn spreads her wings
 arias of tawny hues ~
  summer drifts to sleep

amber moon rises
 pumpkins reflect twilight song ~
  shadows breathe cobwebs

streams of orange leaves
 flow in tangerine torrents ~
  fall river medley

streamlets slowly flow
 red leaves twirl on lazy swells ~
  rainclouds harmonies

mischievous fall winds
 robs boughs of golden solos ~
  bittersweet in bloom

harvest serenade
 leaves drip with crimson splendor ~
  sapphire skies sing blues

Mystical Ocean

Who can resist the call of ocean waves
whispering as they lap against the shore?
Who can stand firm against that which enslaves?
Return passionate melody ardor?

How many men have heard the Sirens’ song
leaving wondering kith and ken behind?
How did their fateful journey hold so long
to oppress their minds and tighten the bind?

Who can repeat sweet nothings of wafture
that solos its secret, seductive song?
Who can resist the traction of rigor
that intones one’s soul to follow along?

Can from the heights of Icarus one dive
to the depths of Poseidon and survive ?

Chama Viva

Chama Viva

Eis a jornada 
da empreendedora,
no sábado e sempre
em seu peito,
carrega a 
chama viva,
transforma,
o que é pouco 
em muito, 
com a sabedoria 
de um 
mago antigo.

Cada passo, 
uma vitória 
em solos férteis 
de sonhos 
e esperança,
com mãos firmes 
a navegante 
segue com força
para fazer 
com pouco
mais e mais.

Smiles Didn'T Make Ah Sound

Shall I turn to my audience and sing
To ah world who wishes to hear me
Sing
From intros to prechorus
They will excite or bore us
Does this world wish me to sing
I have sang many bridges
Carried ah tune or two
From verse to verse
The efforts the songwriter gave
In respect we must not neglect
The composers role in these
Collaborations
But, I
So we
Change the gender of
the love
Might the background singers
Compliment one another
Please let this blend with
Modern trends
It needs to fit in
It needs to fit in
To ride the wave
To number one
I want to tour bragging
Ain't to much to be asking
Maybe we can do it all
Again
Make it cool and different
We included something different
This song has two solos
One a conversation
A bassoon and flute
Wishes to groove with the bass
You should've seen the percussionists face
When the strange started grooving
The horns were ah tuning
Whomp ah whomp getting down
The flute took the show
To places voices couldn't go
Our smiles didn't make ah sound
When it returned to the tenors tempo
The horns started there solo
Putting the strings in the background.

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