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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460407" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0011 Chet Baker Sings and Plays: a homage</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">That’s the word we use<br>for the abrupt suddenness<br>of the old rubber-squeezed car horn<br>on the outside, by the driving seat<br>of the old battered Ford</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and unforgettably for the anguished heart, <br>the bugle on the battlefield <br>as stretcher-bearers move in gathering dusk, <br>the final drawn-out, liquid, haunting pa-a-a-rp.... dies away <br>to pregnant, bloody silence; <br>death after life; life after death.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">and then the sound of the civilian trumpet<br>in the days of the uneasy, hopeful postwar peace<br>hitting our eardrums, calling to attention, <br>stirring our blood<br>or perversely, <br>making the silence in between the notes<br>more silent, more laid back, more significant, <br>as if to say, how quickly<br>rest may follow action, action rest, <br>hot, cool; cool, hot; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">So trumpet can be voice; voice, trumpet; <br>behind them, heart and mind, and mood and mode<br>sing, even whisper, you’re unforgettable, <br>that’s what you are; there will never be<br>another you; that’s how it is; <br>if you don’t know what love is, <br>I’ll play it to you; maybe sing..</div><div style="margin:10px 0">his husky, boyish voice, <br>a hint of Oklahoma on Pacific shores, <br>sang – sings – the standards tenderly<br>as if they are the given texts for all mankind<br>of this new day of love; they apply<br>to him, and you; and everyone; so<br>he makes no pretence he thought them first; .<br>yet, in the long pauses in his singing, he's thinking them into now.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">then as the line’s still finishing, his trumpet<br>turns the words to comment, as the cage is opened, <br>the bird flies out and up, released to joy<br>in boundless air and space; </div><div style="margin:10px 0">as if it were outside the soundproofed recording studio<br>but recognised the song; and knew itself as free, <br>soaring high in sad songs or in glad songs, <br>knowing them the same at heart, <br>as a trumpet soars its notes<br>out over the Pacific air as gulls call to the waves, <br>singing liberty, equality, fraternity - <br>I’m telling you what love is</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=460407" data-title="0011 Chet Baker Sings and Plays: a homage de Michael Shepherd" data-description="That’s the word we use
for the abrupt suddenness
of the old rubber-squeezed car horn
on the outside, by the driving seat
of the old battered Ford

and unforgettably for the anguished heart, 
the bugle on the battlefield 
as stretcher-bearers mov..."></div>
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