Arlene Corwin Poetry

     The Only Jazz Bass Playing Lady I Know

Why would a lady start playing the bass?

Take on an instrument weighing a ton?

It can’t be much fun to transport;

Schlep a four-stringéd buddy

And bow for good measure?

What pleasure from plucking four beats,

The occasional solo and jazz waltz for treats?

Feminine creature,

Petite and demure,

Training, her muscles, sustaining technique– not leery

Of playing for bleary-eyed, tone-deaf, demandingly dreary

Old guys and young punks.

If I were that lady I’d play something else:

The flute or the conch or the singing chipmunks.

(I remember them well.)

Yet let’s toast the bass,

The chalice of callus,

The lady who carries the bass loaded case,

Who has broken the caste of the plucking male race.

©The Only Lady Jazz Bass Playing Lady I Know 95.1.8

A Sense Of The Ridiculous; Circling Round Woman; Vaguely About Music;

Arlene Corwin