Jazz In Hell

Thomas W Case

Chess in the
afternoon sun.
Jazz floats over
the silky couch.
Backs ache, while
hearts break.
Bishop takes knight,
and France falls again.

The masks are all
broken under the
cerulean blue skies,
while she eats berries,
and smiles in her
pink polka dot dress.
The pawns are all smug,
and queenie's on the rag.
Italy surrenders, and from
the grave, Charlie Parker
still hammers home
those soft amber notes.
I can smell her heat, and
I think they play
Jazz in hell.

  • Author: Thomas W Case (Pseudonym) (Offline Offline)
  • Published: March 20th, 2024 20:20
  • Comment from author about the poem: Check out my book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 15
  • User favorite of this poem: Teddy.15.
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  • Introverted Sage

    Intriguing write!

  • Alan R

    Very beautiful as always

  • Goldfinch60

    Jazz is everywhere Thomas.


  • Teddy.15

    You must have met Dante and a few others I suspect such as Bukowski himself. I cannot help but be pulled in by the Italian surrender phrase, hey they got it back though. 🌹 Always a pleasure to read.

  • Bobby O

    Two things
    First I enjoyed it
    Second I’m still trying to get around it. Love the polka dot dress. I play chess at a competition level but the long games kill me

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