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March |
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a poem by Scot Young (1 of 3)
the ukelele poem (for abby)
i
yoko said poetry should ring
of soul or sing of the soul
(i can never remember)
but paul wanted to play
the ukulele not piano
on the last album
& lennon sang
whisper words of wisdom
let it be
and it was never the same
after that
ii
and tiny tim only marched
through the tulips
never tiptoed
& when he needed
a valium it was not
miss vickie that kept
him balanced--
she curled his hair--
the ukulele gave
him peace
iii
my daughter bought a ukulele
in haight the other day
carried it by her side
like machine gun kelly
past the this week's
self imposed
street kids who eyed
her up and down
didn't buy it for don ho or
tip toe flower tunes
but a baritone uke
built to beat the blues
with every three chord
hank sr. song
cause nobody asks for spare
change or breaks the heart
of a woman singing
move it on over
of soul or sing of the soul
(i can never remember)
but paul wanted to play
the ukulele not piano
on the last album
& lennon sang
whisper words of wisdom
let it be
and it was never the same
after that
through the tulips
never tiptoed
& when he needed
a valium it was not
miss vickie that kept
him balanced--
she curled his hair--
the ukulele gave
him peace
in haight the other day
carried it by her side
like machine gun kelly
past the this week's
self imposed
street kids who eyed
her up and down
tip toe flower tunes
but a baritone uke
built to beat the blues
with every three chord
hank sr. song
cause nobody asks for spare
change or breaks the heart
of a woman singing
move it on over
© by Scot Young
Gutter Eloquence Magazine ~ Issue #8 ~ March 2010
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