The Weary Blues  

Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
      I heard a Negro play.

Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light
      He did a lazy sway …
      He did a lazy sway …
To the tune o’ those Weary Blues.

With his ebony hands on each ivory key
He made that poor piano moan with melody.

      O Blues!

Swaying to and fro on his rickety stool
He played that sad raggy tune like a musical fool.

      Sweet Blues!

Coming from a black man’s soul.

      O Blues!

In a deep song voice with a melancholy tone
I heard that Negro sing, that old piano moan—

      “Ain’t got nobody in all this world,
      Ain’t got nobody but ma self.
      I’s gwine to quit ma frownin’
      And put ma troubles on the shelf.”

Thump, thump, thump, went his foot on the floor.
He played a few chords then he sang some more—

      “I got the Weary Blues
      And I can’t be satisfied.
      Got the Weary Blues
      And can’t be satisfied—
      I ain’t happy no mo’
      And I wish that I had died.”

And far into the night he crooned that tune.
The stars went out and so did the moon.

The singer stopped playing and went to bed
While the Weary Blues echoed through his head.

He slept like a rock or a man that’s dead.

  — Langston Hughes (1902 - 1967), African-American poet, novelist and playwright.

Sitting in the dark, avoiding sleep … listening to podcasts of old “This American Life” episodes … pondering why people (and not just sk-HAWT) think that poetry is weird, but really get into music and lyrics; especially since lyrics are simply poetry set to melody.

Okay, sure, for some people music isn’t about the words, it’s the beat … but to me, the beat, the melody, that’s just the tease; the bait; the hook … but … it’s the words that really draw me in …

I can’t believe I’m going to draw from a cheesy rom-com, but in the movie “Music and Lyrics“, the characters Sophie Fisher (as played by Drew Barrymore) and Alex Fletcher (played by Hugh Grant) have the following exchange:

Sophie Fisher: A melody is like seeing someone for the first time. The physical attraction. Sex.
Alex Fletcher: I so get that.
Sophie Fisher: But then, as you get to know the person, that’s the lyrics. Their story. Who they are underneath. It’s the combination of the two that makes it magic.

A well-crafted poem is musical, even without the melody, and for me, that’s where the draw is. When a poem resonates in my head, not just from the subject matter of the poem itself, but from the way that it’s written; its meter, its tone … it’s a hook that’s hard to let go, almost like an addiction.