jazz on a rainy day

Revised.

I sat at the café table by the window,

rain tracing slow rivers down the glass.

The city blurred gray beyond,

tiny circles forming and vanishing

in puddles that caught the soft glow of streetlights.

Jazz drifted from a small speaker,

warm and intimate,

and I thought of Kerouac,

of Ginsberg,

of words written in motion,

words chasing the rhythm of the world.

Chet Baker’s voice floated in,

fragile, slow

“My Funny Valentine.”

I imagined the song born

on a day like this,

damp and quiet,

with ink still wet on paper.

Outside, women passed

bright, luminous, unreachable

each step a story I would never enter,

each umbrella a tiny, moving universe.

I drank it all in,

knowing some painter, somewhere,

searching for a solitary figure at a café table,

would never capture

this precise intersection of rain, music, and longing.

Reviews

[Chris Shaw]

You capture this scene beautifully Tim. You create a lonely ambience with your words and I swear I heard the jazz and rain in the background. It would also make a great painting.

Chris

[Relic]

Thanks very much for the comment, Chris. Much appreciated. :)

[Curly Grace]

There’s such a quiet ache in this. The jazz, the rain, the passing faces...you capture that lonely beauty so well.

[Relic]

Thanks so much, Curly.

[Kelly Scheppers]

I'll take a cup of coffee by the window, and watch the rain, delighting in your company...and poetry!

[Relic]

Thank you, Kelly.

[Poetic Beauty]

I have spent many an hour simple watching the rain transform the ground with the reflection of light. It’s like a different universe. There is beauty in natures reflections. It makes the mind wonder and gives magical inspiration like this piece.

Wonderfully done. Here I thought I was the only one who loved looking at the reflections of lights on the damp ground creating beauty

[Relic]

You're not the only one, PB. Thank you for the comment. :)

[Poetic Beauty]

I love to look at details in nature and many things like paintings and so on. I’m a detailed oriented person

[Lorry]

Yes Relic. We are all waiting and wanting that next scene to come along, where there it was all along, right below that coffee scented nose of ours.
We should keep our eyes peeled at all times, because just when we start to moan that nothing ever happens, we should do a 360 before saying it, because it's probably happening behind our backs as we speak! ☺

[Relic]

You could be right, Lorry. Thanks for the comment. :)

[Cherrie L Bill]

The title pulled me in your words had me order a drink and pull up a chair.

[Relic]

Ha, and your more than welcome to join me, Cherrie. Thanks. :)

[John the Baptist]

Liked the puddle metaphor very much. Such scenes are waiting for our appreciation continually in the unnoticed and ignored.

[Relic]

Thank you, John. :)

[Ook]

That sounds like a tranquil moment Relic - peaceful, settled, and a little sad.

I think some of the best art has come from those conditions - tranquil, quiet, and if but just a little heartbroken. I think its' a feeling that a lot of us can share in having experienced. I definitely can.

Thanks for sharing Relic, I read often, and both the beat and jazz allusions are right up my alley.

- Ook


As an aside, and if collaborating on something feels as though it'd be a good use of your time, I have this piece from a week back that remains half finished and I can't seem to find the juice to wrap it up. I'll drop it below here (I'm picturing a kid dumping out his lego blocks) but if you feel like adding another half to it, before or after my verse, I'd definitely welcome the help.

The music I had for it is called La Danse by Berlioz

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eyWxSWfqUwA

Obviously, no pressure, but if you could turn a half-finished project into a complete one, I mean f**k, you'd be doing me a favor.

Cheers man, well wishes

[Ook]

(unfinished)

The lamp-light shone orange,
Dim,
About the perpendicular narrows
That framed the edges of the room -

Blue sheets, gray fleece,
Fluttering,
Within the dancing of the shadows
And the hover of a plume

Of curling, colored smoke
That'd drifted from the ember
Of a stick of lit incense -
Sandalwood, lavender -

And hung about the pinewood
Rafters - dangling,
Baroque - loitering
About the paneled grain

As a hook might hang a cloak.

(break)

[Relic]

My apologies. The descriptions here are in perfect detail and the music seems to fit, but my simple brain can't come up with anything similar.

My first thought was Sherlock Holmes and murder. But that doesn't fit the music. Plus, there's so much detail, I can't see past it, if that makes sense. I'm more of a free flow writer.

Sorry, I couldn't help.

[Relic]

Thank you for your comment. It's much appreciated. :)

[Ook]

All good, hang on to it maybe? If the mood strikes it's there.

Cheers,

-Ook

[Relic]

Will do. :)