There is something about blues that strums at the heartstrings and creates a tune of life with all its myriad notes and rhythms. I have been in love with the sound of blues since my teens when I would shut myself in my room for evenings and listen enraptured to the musical mastery of Billie Holiday, B.B. King, Nina Simone, Ray Charles, et al. One of the best poets who emulated the essence of blues in his work, I think, is Langston Hughes. His poetics resounded with music, politics, love, and dreams all at once in a symphony which sets in the soul like a beautiful blues song.
The Weary Blues
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway. . . .
He did a lazy sway. . . .
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—
“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
And put ma troubles on the shelf.”
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—
“I got the Weary Blues
And I can’t be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can’t be satisfied—
I ain’t happy no mo’
And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
Langston Hughes, “The Weary Blues” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1994 by The Estate of Langston Hughes.
Good day, poets! This is Anmol (alias HA) and I welcome you all to another wonderful week at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. For The Tuesday Platform, share a link to a poem, old or new, in the linking widget down below. Let's enjoy the sound of blues as we read the many diverse poems and share our thoughtful words on each others' posts. I look forward to seeing you all on the trail!
The Weary Blues
Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
He did a lazy sway. . . .
He did a lazy sway. . . .
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.
With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.
O Blues!
Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.
Sweet Blues!
Coming from a black man’s soul.
O Blues!
In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—
“Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
And put ma troubles on the shelf.”
Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—
“I got the Weary Blues
And I can’t be satisfied.
Got the Weary Blues
And can’t be satisfied—
I ain’t happy no mo’
And I wish that I had died.”
And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.
The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.
He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.
Langston Hughes, “The Weary Blues” from Collected Poems. Copyright © 1994 by The Estate of Langston Hughes.
Good day, poets! This is Anmol (alias HA) and I welcome you all to another wonderful week at Imaginary Garden With Real Toads. For The Tuesday Platform, share a link to a poem, old or new, in the linking widget down below. Let's enjoy the sound of blues as we read the many diverse poems and share our thoughtful words on each others' posts. I look forward to seeing you all on the trail!