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Open Poetry #46
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Sheraton on Canal St. - for my LA friends...
| Open Poetry #46 |
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Sheraton on Canal St. - for my LA friends... |
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Sunshine
Administrator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-06-25
Posts 63354Listening to every heart 
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Sheraton on Canal St. The diary says we arrived safe to our room, here at the Sheraton. Small room, 24th floor, but OK, as we are only to be tourists here. Mississippi flows long and lean outside our window, busy with ship's traffic, with memories only a river can lay claim to. Christmas Day. N'Orleans. Tourists. Bourbon Street on Christmas Night is not a typical evening in the French Quarter. Only the architecture remains in focus of what once was grand and eloquent. Too many niceties of the day bring about the fake realism of history's once-was. But the food is good. The chronicled data indicates we did a lot of window shopping there on Royal Street and admired the St. Louis Cathedral finding Faulkner's home. But what I recall in my spirit, and no notes required, was where the steamboat paddled us to, a location of civil strife, where heart's blood gave life to the ground, in a very small field in a very important moment for love of country. Where the past curled tendrils around my feet planting me in yesterday... For in this very month 184 years ago Andrew Jackson met a victory at Chalmette's field and as my gaze swept the battlefield it was far too, too easy to see the men in uniform, and not in uniform, running, trenching, readying weapons, spilling blood, laying their lives down under the winter sun of 1812. Flags raised, drums drummed, yells, curses, screams, smells of blood smells of powder spent sounds of things other than life. Orders given, "March, March" into death. So, there was a crossing there, a space of time where, for a moment, my feet were planted in the past, the sounds roared in my ears the visions of men against men on a small plot of acreage, for a large political reason resounded desperately in my soul memories which have not let go, nor have I stopped hearing yesterday call, as I turned and returned to Sheraton on Canal St. ~*~ ©Karilea Rilling Jungel 29 July 2000 repost, revised 17 March 2002 |
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| © Copyright 2010 Karilea Rilling Jungel - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Lori Grosser Rhoden Member Patricius
since 2009-10-10
Posts 10202Fair to middlin' of nowhere |
I love the places you go and getting to go with you in such style.  Lori |
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JerryPat Senior Member
since 2010-10-30
Posts 1991Louisiana/America |
I agree completely with your assessment of Bourbon Street. The quality of places there are as pale and ineffective as the crumbling building they are housed. Neon sleaze is alive and well in New Orleans, but it is a cancerous growth. Royal, also tourist influenced is two or three cuts above her parallel sister street. You can window shop or actually go in and come away with quality merchandise, some of the finest rugs and antique curios around. But it is Chalmette where the true and meaningful history and valor of our country resides, not the Storyville-like squalor of Bourbon, not even the upscale and quality goods on Royal. Chalmette is the place where the America we live in today was really born and there really should be a better presentation of the site in my opinion. I thoroughly enjoyed your poem, Sunshine. . . . and the Raven said, %!~#&(&#!$! |
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gilead Senior Member
since 2008-03-10
Posts 1067nevada, USA |
I have yet to visit New Orleans, Sunshine,but in the words of this remarkable poem, it calls to me, and I must go there to take in some of the essence of the history written in blood, and love of country! This is verse on the order of the highest magnitude! Love, Art |
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Lighthousebob Member Elite
since 2000-06-14
Posts 4725California |
Your poem does very well in dulling the modern in comparison to the spirits of times past which overwhelmingly touched yours. emjoyed, -Bob |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
Bourban St is best, like, on an ordinary Tuesday night. You can find better music on the ordinary everydays there than you can on weekends. Hit Frenchman for the music, Magazine for antiques and some snappy coffeehouses, and oh--there's a walking tour of just...French Quarter courtyards, and most of those are set off by the revamped slave quarters. Take the streetcar to head uptown and keep your walking shoes on, because there's another walking tour for architecture...and if you happen to find yourself in the city in the month of July or August, stop and pause a minute, and remember that once upon a time, the majority of the population who were able took respite in the country, so of course, as the wives, those women and children of the men who maintained business in New Orleans were away, the Redlight district thrived with sweaty flesh revealed. Glance up at the windows, and you might see a shadow, a glimpse of an exposed breast in silhouette and if you listen carefully, you can hear the laughter of certain ladies who ruled the hearts of men while they braved the dangers of yellow fever in order to ply their trade... and oops, now I'm writing on your thread. I feel like I'm two hundred years old today. Thanks for reposting an old favorite of mine.  |
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Prasad Nataraj Senior Member
since 2008-05-29
Posts 1149Bangalore,India |
It’s a fine place to be, the images and history. Thank you for sharing this poem. Fine writing. "Hardwork pays in the long run" |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Never been there Karilea but it truly is a famous city. You portray it very well in this write. Especially the end. I too drift back into the past when visiting a historic site. In my case it would something like Citadel Hill in Halifax N.S. Canada I too always seem to visually recreate the scenes and smell etc. Those people once real and alive still echo in the memories of the day and while it's a melancholy feeling because of the high price it's also a tower of strength historically. Great writing! Eric |
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