from the poetry book ‘Images of Life’
I wrote this poem in tribute to the many talented streets performers in New Orleans who are never discovered, make it to the big stage or ever have their name in lights, but they have great talented and entertained passersby with the jest and enthusiasm of a celebrity.
The Jazz Singer A Poem by E.T. Milligan
he marches along corner to corner
on the busiest streets in Vieux Carre
in the grandest part of ‘ole Orleans
the majestic voice of a jazz singer
delights the tourist from dawn ‘till dusk
yet, surrounded by many
he stands alone
imagining fame through his microphone
he shadows the walls from Pontalba place
to ‘ole historic Jackson Square
as distant light surrounds the bay
he shelters himself from pouring rain
while dreams of being amid a crowd
in a place filled with bright lights
and standing beneath a strobe-lit bay,
a dream of near as fifty feet,
for him, a thousand miles away
he finds himself,
bound by racial discrimination
more than his own schizophrenia
yet, a fine ear for improvisation
keeps his soul breaking the walls
of bonds and silent ridicule
while knowing he’ll never open doors
to the nearby Preservation Hall.
as the gently breeze
cools the night
his corner alley is eeringly dark
as sure as many nights before
his voice gets weak as cheers are gone
as powerless as his microphone
yet, for a short time, no one had known
the man of jazz, blows his own tunes,
walks to his own blues
but walks alone
Copyright © Edward T. Milligan, 2005
All rights reserved.
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