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Allysa
Deputy Moderator 10 ToursDeputy Moderator 5 Tours
Member Elite
since 11-09-1999
Posts 2307
In an upside-down garden


0 posted 04-08-2006 03:25 PM       View Profile for Allysa   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to Submit your Poem to Passions  View IP for Allysa

The walls of this room are empty
and if she had a pen, she would
scrawl little words of understanding,
some memories, some sentiments, some stern
sentences directed at the people who fake
feelings, the people who only saw
what she saw over their morning cups
of black coffee as they half-heartedly
watched the news, talking later about
"the horror that is New Orleans", but

Talk to anyone I've met and you will
find that they would rather tell you
about their family, their favorite drink
or the right way to fix shrimp than
what it feels like to go home to find
that home isn't exactly how you left it
not quite what you remembered, I don't know
what it's like when everything's disappeared,
what was it like, I want to ask, in hopes
that she'll tell me about a younger her.

She smiled, once, our knees brushing under
the circular tables of the outdoor cafe
as she told me about when she grew up there,
she pointed out the beautiful dresses in the
shop windows as we walked, recalling her days
of Mardi Gras, ever since she was a little girl,
probably about six years old, eating beignets,
powdered sugar all down the front of her lap,
"It's how you can tell," she told me,
"That's how you know you've had a good night"

And I can see her in my eyelids when I stop
trying to frantically look around, she is
sitting on a rocking chair on the front porch
of a house that may not look important
but it is, and she is staring at the sky where
sometimes, it's different than anything I have
ever seen and she is trying to recall all that
she feels that she forgot, the people and places
the years, and all of the experiences that
have made her the woman she has always been,

A woman who grew up in a small house in
Baton Rouge with a bunch brothers and sisters
half of whom I've never met and she tells me
stories of watching TV when she was younger,
it would cut out every time a train would cross
the tracks in her back yard and, "see that light?"
the one in the very back corner, she used to have
her boyfriends shoot it out with BB guns, so she
could sleep at night, she told me all of this
as we drove around, looking at what was left

And there's water, water everywhere and not
a drop to drink, she thinks "It's getting old,"
hearing that everywhere, from everyone
every time you turn your head to look
someone is saying something that she doesn't
want to hear again, too busy trying to
figure out what room she left her memories in
they're swarming around inside her head,
a million stories ready to explode, and
sometimes, she feels she will break-

You see, unfamiliar voices say Toulouse
too fast, "Taa-louse", like it's a dish
served with a side of coleslaw, but they
weren't married on an entree, rather on
"Too Loose", in true New Orleans style that
you can't see through the your TV screen where
announcers repeat the words "refugees", no
matter how many times you rub away the smudges,
you can never feel the heart of New Orleans
until you've rubbed her mud on your feet

And I have found myself wishing for the
narrow streets that at once all seemed to look
exactly the same, now they have a personality
so much different from the aerial shots
plaguing TV screens, showing you how everything
looks when you have no connection, no memory
no idea of the places where ladies wore gloves
and hats and "dirty danced the nights away"
in a city that hasn't slept in years
every second is a memory to New Orleans.
© Copyright 2006 Allysa - All Rights Reserved
serenity blaze
Member Empyrean
since 02-02-2000
Posts 28839


1 posted 04-08-2006 08:05 PM       View Profile for serenity blaze   Email serenity blaze   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for serenity blaze

*tears*

and smiles

oh my dear friend

thank you



and ask that lady about "Mr. Bingle" and "Morgus the Magnificent", "Chicken George" and "Ruthie The Duck Lady" and, and....mmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm

I want coffee and beignets now.

How am I ever gonna leave this place, hmmmm?

Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 09-21-1999
Posts 28608
California


2 posted 04-08-2006 11:39 PM       View Profile for Martie   Email Martie   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Martie's Home Page   View IP for Martie

Alysa...You touched my dear friend, Karen with this....you touch me also!  
Musicmaker1969
Deputy Moderator 5 ToursDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Senior Member
since 06-25-2000
Posts 594
Peterborough, Ontario Canada


3 posted 05-14-2006 01:58 AM       View Profile for Musicmaker1969   Email Musicmaker1969   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems   Click to visit Musicmaker1969's Home Page   View IP for Musicmaker1969

A great poem that gives honour and tribute to the workers, survivors and rebuilders of New Orleans.  It was a very sad thing to watch and very scary.  I live in Canada and I've had nightmares so I can only imagine what you and your friend/loved one are going through.  May you find peace and be able to rebuild not only your homes, but your lives as well.  God bless you.

Sheri Adams

Jesus lives in my heart!  He can in yours too!!!
Sheri Liegh Adams
sheriliegh@sympatico.ca

suthern
Deputy Moderator 1 TourDeputy Moderator 1 Tour
Member Seraphic
since 07-29-99
Posts 20770
on the threshold of a dream


4 posted 10-04-2006 11:59 AM       View Profile for suthern   Email suthern   Edit/Delete Message      Find Poems  View IP for suthern

you can never feel the heart of New Orleans
until you've rubbed her mud on your feet

Amen... and then... you never stop feeling her.

There is so much here that is brilliant... but what shines most is the heart of it... WELL DONE!!
 
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