Poetry In Motion

Sometimes you find ukulele players in the strangest ways. Walking through a shopping district in Atlanta, we encountered a couple of gentlemen offering free poems. After passing them by, the thought occurred that it might be fun to see if they could write a poem about a ukulele--thinking this might be a challenge.  So we turned back and asked for one. 

Who knew the poet was also a ukulele player? After composing our poem, he pulled out his ukulele and played us a tune. We told him about the Yesterukes.  He was equally surprised to come across another ukulele player--especially one who is part of a 20-piece band!

Here is his poem...

Jumping flea, hop off me

onto nylon strings under

waving palms.  A song comes

over waves as sunshine plays

between the bright wood, koa

and rose, tiny bubbles or

tim.  Flying strum or slim

notes, mele or hapa hoale,

sweet small music always 

at hand, bare feet and 

sand.  I love thee, ukulele,

reminder and mind of place.

We Yesterukes often think of ourselves as the only ukulele players around, and at many locations, we truly are. But it's even nicer to think of ourselves as part of a ukulele community that exists around the globe.

Poetry In Motion, by Johnny Tillotson, 1961