Billie

She strode the stage in swathes of silk

That swished in synchronicity

To the drum beat,

As in the heat

Her voice oozed electricity.

It coursed the room

With her perfume 

In concert with those sultry tones,

Deep in the groove,

So velvet smooth

Like chocolate over the microphone. 

All eyes were fixed

Upon that mix 

Of swinging hips

And painted lips,

Her clientele a lust fuelled fire,

All whetted mouths and dark desire.

Yet in the midst of all those cheers,

The wolf whistles and sexist jeers,

She played her set of old school jazz

With elegance and pure pizzazz.

Reviews

[April Blue]

This is a great poem.. I love the description in this poem..

[sette]

jazz music is very pleasing to the ears. the poem says it all. a well written one at that.

[Adam Latham]

Thank you very much. :)

[sette]

you are welcome

[The Iron Horseman]

I assume it's Billie Holiday we are talking about. This is an excellent piece of work; you can practically feel the ambience, hear the music and visualize the performance, all with a nice rhyming scheme. Very well done.

[Adam Latham]

Thank you so much for the wonderful comment. Yes, it's a poem about Billie Holiday. :)

[The Iron Horseman]

You're very welcome.