New Orleans Pianist | Teen Ink

New Orleans Pianist

January 14, 2013
By Ash__ BRONZE, Chico, California
Ash__ BRONZE, Chico, California
3 articles 0 photos 0 comments

That fine new pianist
came to Louisiana,
to find a place
to match his style
so, they sent him
to New Orleans.

His rhythm was worth a price
a luxury for all who heard.
The way he made the
triplets trill
and notes swing
Impressing Bach and Mozart
with his tricky,
Melodies.

He played jazz, blues
a lil’ rag,
ballets, waltzes, tarantellas,
operas too.

Every boy
quickly stopped his sound,
when that pianist
came to town.
Their ears perked
when his hands
sparked the keys
while the velvety middle of your soul
was filled with the world.

Warm cooked bread
from the bakery a block away.
Swirlin’ bright pink and yellow candy
with lil’ hands grabbin’ at ‘em.
Shouts of pigtailed girls,
from a few streets away,
All of New Orleans,
my whole little world,
in sugary twirlin’ music.

New Orleans is music.
We’re famous for it.
always strummin’ sticks on gates,
while cranky ol’ neighbors yell at us to go away.
tappin’ our heels on chalked up sidewalks,
so much I swear I see holes in it.
We dance along the ash gray streets
paintin’ the sun at dawn
and the moon at dusk

But what ya always can be sure to find
is our instruments.
playin’ em whenever we can,
and me
Well, ya’ll always find me singin’
and poundin’ on that grand.

This pianist,
his hands weren’t just magic,
but the way his face turned colors
of Red and Blue and Yellow and Green
Anger and Sorrow and Joy and Envy
.
He heard me singin’ one chilly evnin’
as I walked along the sleepy soulful streets,
He glanced my way, smiled and winked
and him and I was singin’ and playin’ away,
we fell in love that day.

You’ll never find us holdin’ hands
like the otha’ young lovers
or kissin’ like ya see em’ do
in the movies.
Cause his hands are busy makin’ music
while my mouth is serenading
all who listen.

We join together,
not hand in hand
but hands on jazzin’ keys
my voice raisin’ and droppin’
his body movin’
in time with what we play.

I still ain’t sure
to this day
who sent him our way.
But here in New Orleans
we’re ever so grateful
for the man I love.

He wove our talents together
showed us what it meant to live.
Cause ya see
I don’t just play the keys and notes,
I live each key,
black and white,
Every octave
high and low
Livin’ what I sing
Livin’ what I play,
All thanks to my
New Orleans pianist,
who taught me all I know.



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