Clifton Beasley (In Memorial) The Gospel Piano Man Poem by Luke Easter

Although there’s no acclaimed world wide renown,
Sunday July 25, a musical genius has just left town,
A choir director affectionately know as Brother Cliff,
A mile high his compositions would spiritually uplift.

Cliff made an out of tune old piano sound brand new,
Master of the keys there was nothing he could not do,
Like a surgeon had revitalized skillfully so would he,
Before a word was spoken his play made you believe.

No, he did not conduct a big choir & neither was the band,
Hearing the soulful sounds was like being in the holy land,
He turned a teenage kid into a professional drummer man,
And on hundreds of occasions you couldn’t help but stand.

His rehearsals harmonized the singers, alto, tenor and bass,
Like taking pieces of cloth turning them into satin and lace,
And although only his memory remains now that he’s gone,
This solo comes to mind sung buy Sister Joann, “Hold On! ”

Not resigned just to composing music Cliff also wrote plays,
Performed in front of packed audiences on Karamu’s stage,
At the age of 48 why was he brought home? Oh that’s easy,
Wanting the best for His choir God called Clifton Beasley.

Cliff’s eulogy will commence in remembrance and not take long,
Fighting tears the choir will unite for some of his favorite songs,
Members come and go and sometimes, even preachers move on,
However now more than ever the church has to show itself strong.

The tedious task of finding new hands to grace the Ivory’s begins,
But, they will never replace the love shown to family and friends,
A hard working commitment of this taskmaster, the zeal, his best,
Measuring up to his standards it will be Cliff then there’s the rest.

We’ve yet to enter Good Hope Baptist Church already it’s strange,
And so hard not to image someone affectionately calling his name,
Hear the rhythm, the harmony, the drums in unison with the cords,
Not just that smiling big guy because he was oh so very much more.

Our good friend time waits for no one steadily it forever moves on,
No matter how long many have know you it hurts to say, “so long, ”
Still, to bid you ado like so many other saints once again we must,
Within the power, knowledge and wisdom in Jesus’ name we trust.

That is very easy to say as it will always feel like it was way to soon,
We loved it when you took the mic and decided to soulfully croon,
And although the choir comes together in pitch for an acapella tune,
Without Cliff it was like nightfall with plenty of stars yet no moon.

Another service, a different sermon with singers some old, some new,
And no matter who’s on the keyboard by faith we’ll make it through,
Hey, my brother, my brother, who will joke during the concerts heat?
No matter whom they get to play, that bench will always be your seat.