First and foremost, hello everyone. May name is Stephanie, I am from Saint Louis... headed down to Huntsville, AL this ocming fall for school at Oakwood S.D.A. College. Umm most likely, i will be posting nearly al my stuff in here, 'cuz this is what I do- write, and spoken word... but n e who. I wrote this a lil minute back, when I met my current boyfriend at an open mic nite in this area called "the loop". Just as a piece of info, he was so intriguing that his aura inspired me to write this long azz poem about him, only a week after we spoke. Yea, I know it is hella long, but it is one of my fave's.... hope you like, give me some feedback...
Last Week I Met A Musician
Last week I met a musician
His style was like jazz horns laced with bass chords
His physique reminded me of high notes from Rachelle Farrell’s vocals.
I met him at an open mic night for the minds.
He was into personal growth, which made his spirit sublime.
His beauty sent rays of light to nurture this plant through photosynthesis;
after a glimpse in my peripherals - my mind went through a metamorphosis.
He immediately went from fine to gorgeous
just his presence sends life to dead corpses.
His essence said music.
His locks said music.
His skin tone, his speech, his dress patterns said music.
He was a living, breathing Haiku of pure song:
Soulful, well played, sound minded and full of articulate drumbeats.
It’s like the tone of Billy Holiday jumped from the drums and became life.
It’s like the lyrics of the Musiq jumped from the drums and became sight.
It’s like the rhythm of Carlos Santana jumped from the drums and became the guiding light.
It’s like the range of Prince jumped from the drums with the soul purpose to ignite.
He had a soft, gentle hug.
Ever since our initial encounter, he is all I have been thinking of,
been thinking of long days and long back rubs.
When we hugged – he reminded me of freshly lit incense;
the smoke is his spirit in which I inhale through my nostrils as he gives me the breath of life.
Last week I met a musician.
His silhouette was like a Coltrane sax riff;
smooth and elegant and magnificently crafted.
He wasn’t an open mic drummer.
He was what drummers try to become.
He wasn’t a Love Jones type player.
He was a - let’s show Jones some love type percussionist.
He wasn’t one of those arrogant type musicians.
He was one of those, he is worth a life long covenant type musicians.
His walk says music.
His smile says music.
Every curve of his body says music.
Every time he speaks, I feel like I am in a dimly lit club.
I’m sitting there attentive, hanging on to his every word and I think I’m in love.
He’s pouring his heart out to an audience of one.
Every time he says a word, I begin to snap.
Every utterance of his words, I begin to snap.
Every time he finishes a sentence I begin to hand clap.
Every time he hits a tight line, I tap my girls and I’m like, “You hear that?”
Rewind that.
He has an unconventional beauty.
His sexy phone voice soothes me.
He’s the kind of man you only find in the movies.
When I think of the effect of music, I think of him.
When I think of the power of music, I think of him.
When I think of how a song is a carefully designed piece of art from its creator, I think of him.
I don’t think y’all understand.
Last week I met a musician.
I met a living poem.
I met a spirit in its original form.
His soul was like an Ella Fitzgerald jazz scat…
he had my heart like, “be be de doo wop, a skee be de wop boom” and all that
Last week I met a musician…
Last week I met poetry.
my first post on here: Last Week I Met a Musician
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