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Open Poetry #37
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Rumours of Fourth Street
| Open Poetry #37 |
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Rumours of Fourth Street |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738
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There was an old man who stood when he could with a fork pitch when da weathah was good there was an old man a'guardin' the gate he nevah knew nuttin' 'bout love or no hate he was just standin' right there in the way of the road leadin' home and all he would say when asked, step aside or git outta mah way was the words he was trained to mutter, he'd say "Are you expected?" He knew at a glance. If you'se was a comin' to drink and to dance, "Are you expected?" A Templar in stead and Lawd help you Jesus 'if naught, y'was dead. Crackin' the bones of the claws of yer home: A guest who expected to suck someone's bone out of the twistedness fresh from the boil damp in the listlessness like dem dat toiled and thought dey invited t'dance fanciness there at the party of Bayou Segnette. * * * Freedom-oh-freedom to come with a price to make a man mighty is subtract the nice of all the eyes glowing in subtle and bets were closed at the knowing of Bayou Segnette. If you were invited? quick, ye Confess there at the party of his magistrate a purple ring glowing and nothing was less kiss it while knowing your soul is a death as you are bending a knee to a god: Carlos Marcellos was there in the fog stinking of meat of the crab he had et A blastard was born and became postulate. Laughing at eagerness hungry of eyes... Dastardly growing his horns on the side of his head as they kissed the wrong ring of the throne Moulin Rouge knowing the things that ye owned: charging with interest monies and bones and if you have sense you will birth only sons-- lest that your daughter become just like you...and y'know the ruin and you feel the bruise: she will be woman and beget a price wearing her heels and clicking them thrice And meat off the bones unexpectedly sweet-- as they cracked the claws of the finest crab meat that fed from the crimes and the people they'd greet at the barrooms the guard grooms the Hartz bakery and La Cage Au Folles it was there on Fourth Street and sawdust was proof on an "honest" man's feet that he'd been a stray down the plank and he'd plead: "Forgive me, my mama, my wife will be damned!" His mother could slay him with back of demand and ask for her tribute as green crossed the hand and grandma would tell ma "he's being a man" and allow him to sleep on the stoop... -------------------------------------------------- a little something from the family archives [This message has been edited by serenity blaze (05-19-2006 04:15 AM).] |
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Gentle Spirit Member Patricius
since 2000-10-09
Posts 13989 |
exceptional writing Karen especially "Freedom-oh-freedom to come with a price to make a man mighty is subtract the nice" Brava lady...brava....  seek the flame within yourself |
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Allysa 
since 1999-11-09
Posts 1952In an upside-down garden |
I feel like I'm inside a story when I read your poems, like things are actually happening and I can see them. I like that.  |
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ethome Member Patricius
since 2000-05-14
Posts 11858New Brunswick Canada |
Ah, nicely done kid! What vivid images with a flavor of sage wisdom....Good work. Eric |
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Martie
Moderator
Member Empyrean
since 1999-09-21
Posts 28049California |
Yep, amazing how you captured the flavor...loved it!  |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
oh, getting to the guts of gumbo what a price those claws demanded sittin in that park (in my mind) thinking about a stinking little story hiding in my closet ~a cold bone memory~ and some day I'll tellya over veggie gumbo if there is such a thing |
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serenity blaze Member Empyrean
since 2000-02-02
Posts 27738 |
I wanted to thank you all-- this is a place that is captive to my childhood memories--once upon a time, there was such a place and it danced the Night Train of my imagination, even then. Thanks for reading.  |
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