Image by Engin Akyurt from Pixabay
John Coltrane was born on September 23, 1926 in Hamlet, North Carolina and is unarguably one of the most important people in the history of Jazz. If you have never heard his music before, please look it up on your favorite music providers. It will be well worth it. He died in 1967 at age 40. Regardless of this tragedy his impact on music is undeniable. Here is a poem I wrote about this wonderful musician.
‘Trane Played…
‘Trane played music like jazz gone mad.
Waves moved through the clouds.
Listen closely–listen clearly.
Radiate the night–light pulled from the sunrise.
Beautiful rays of sound,
loved filled the vibes.
Love filled the air.
The journey for good is never ending.
A love supreme caused the awakening.
Free form falling frantically alone-
music never known.
Are we here?
Are we listening all alone?
Color the sandstorm of the night
in such a way I might never play again.
Under the bridge, I saw the man standing stoically alone.
Calling to spiritual emotions long since forgotten.
Good or bad looking towards the light.
Can you hear?
Can you hear the awakening?
Praise and might!
Call…
Call…
Call…
Call the spiritually one, the one who leads to all.
Awake the mind to the pure possibility.
Mind and spirit are one.
One to see,
one to forgive,
the power is in the music.
As you play your blue sax into the sun of forgiveness,
free fall to the forgiveness of your sins and all that is.
Free fall to redemption,
release the power,
release the call,
a love supreme rules all.
Take the day–
take the day back.
Play Jazzman play,
play for all to hear.
Jazzman of the Vanguard, of the impressions of the night,
play and see,
play and hear.
‘Trane played like a man searching for spiritual freedom.
Wait,
listen to the call.
The sax blows through the wind.
Play to the call of the night.
Rest
assured
the sun will rise the next day.
Improvise the call of freedom from self.
Freedom from the lies and the doubt.
Who heard the night music?
Who heard the day after?
The sun…
The sun…
The sun burns on your back.
Shoulders burned like ice-
burned to red.
Love is all that matters to the sun.
Play Jazzman play
into the night.
Is anyone listening?
Tell me–
Tell me, again.
Who is it?
What is the call?
I think I have seen.
I think.
Jazzman play tonight.
Free from form, style and care.
And with care you played all night-
all night to salvation.
Played to salvation and forgiveness…
Push the air…
Push the air…
Push the air from your lungs.
Your lips pressed against your instrument,
you played to love,
played to live,
played to….
…play that jazz.