Menu
Saturday, March 27, 2010

Trumpet Player

Rating: 2.8
The Negro
With the trumpet at his lips
Has dark moons of weariness
Beneath his eyes
where the smoldering memory
of slave ships
Blazed to the crack of whips
about thighs

The negro
with the trumpet at his lips
has a head of vibrant hair
tamed down,
patent-leathered now
until it gleams
like jet-
were jet a crown

the music
from the trumpet at his lips
is honey
mixed with liquid fire
the rhythm
from the trumpet at his lips
is ecstasy
distilled from old desire-

Desire
that is longing for the moon
where the moonlight's but a spotlight
in his eyes,
desire
that is longing for the sea
where the sea's a bar-glass
sucker size

The Negro
with the trumpet at his lips
whose jacket
Has a fine one-button roll,
does not know
upon what riff the music slips

It's hypodermic needle
to his soul
but softly
as the tune comes from his throat
trouble
mellows to a golden note
Langston Hughes
READ THIS POEM IN OTHER LANGUAGES
COMMENTS
Thington 23 November 2017
Quodren is a great service and customer service customer and service service customer and service customer service service customer and and service service customer and customer support
2 4 Reply
uhmmm 16 January 2018
excuse me? ? ? ? ?
0 0 Reply
uhhhh 06 January 2019
i just wanted to comment too so like what? ? ? ? ?
0 0 Reply

Delivering Poems Around The World

Poems are the property of their respective owners. All information has been reproduced here for educational and informational purposes to benefit site visitors, and is provided at no charge...

1/18/2021 5:45:01 AM # 1.0.0.396