How 'Bout Dat River?

Willie Bo...
Ol' Willie Bo.
Seems like he singin' himself
a new tune
yess'm.
Says he call it
"How 'Bout Dat River?"

Down by da banks of da delta
he strums dat gitar slow like
da river flows.
And he pauses e'vry now an' din
ta whistle.

I's sit back on a
tree trunk and jus'
listen
cause...
how 'bout dat river?

Deep southern voice Willie
sings what we be seein'
like broken branches
dat be jus' driftin' alone...
a ferry chuggin' off far away...
and youngin's fishin' catfish
fer supper.

He ask me if I's a try
but I can't oblige.
Naw, nawl Willie Bo
no singer is I
and no poet shall
I be.

Jus' let me relax,
sleepy from a grey sky
an' a lazy man's simple song.

"Ol' Willie Bo is a no good fool!"
Pappa be tellin' me
cause he don't like me hangin' round him so much.
but I's pay little attention
ain't been forbidden
so Imma' breath in
dis man's air
an' lay up on some
of his earth
fer all it be worth.

I's figured Willie long ago.
He jus' wants ta' be left alone.
Da river his quiet an peaceful home.
Da world is too busy
fer a man like he.

Bein' called names like
fool an lazy
by people's who ain't never cared
to take out time to know...
he jus' assume
pay dem no nevermind
an' strum dat gitar
an' whistle
as I's sit back an listen
to a tune he like to call...

"How 'Bout Dat River?"

No Title

Snow falling down softly
full of grace and beauty
painting the oak trees and ground
of this old town.

I am frozen in the street at the scene
no longer a little boy
time does not rust away
my wonder at such simplistic
majesty.

There is laughter from a little girl...
my little girl
that echoes, breaking the quiet
yet does not disturb the peace.

As I breath in
out go my strife and stresses.
They float away
and become forgotten.

The sun and clouds
agree to work in harmony
to cast a shade upon the earth
that is so very pretty.

There will be better days
in Heaven I know...
but God has blessed me with this
moment...

and never will I let it go

An Ol' Soul

They say, "you have
an old soul."
I tend to agree
for I am my Grandfather's
child.

Please...come with me, for I had a dream I want you to see.

I can smell Ol' Arkansas.
When I close my eyes
I become that once young man
who toiled in the field as a sharecroppers
son.

Out upon dis land
my body do nothin' but get dark and grow strong.
Dis is a young mans job
dat my papa done fo much too long.

And I aint wanna be like him...
I wanna be what he coulda
been.

We singin' dat devil music...me an my friends
when da hard workin' mans day is done
in da back of da shack
so gospel mamma can't hear.

Finga' pickin' on 'ol gitars...
howlin' at da sky...
sharin' dreams and
country made moon shine.

"Dink Imma head north one of des days...
dink maybe on up ta Chicago...
yessem' maybe I'll e'vn marry an take dat pretty girl
Dorothy Mae.

Yea...des cotton fields aint gone get da besta me.
Dink I'll go head on and getta job in one of dose big
'ol fancy factories."

"Bo...you din talkin' wit no sense"

"Oh am I floyd?...Well justa wait an see.
A man can change his dest'ny."

"dest'ny, dest'ny...Bo what dat be?
Imma sharecropper son, and you is da
same kinda nigga' as me!
Is you dink you better?"

"naw I ain't better, but you justa wait an see
dis place not gone get da besta me"

Well it took two mo' years...
wit e'vry bead of sweat an a few tears
da dream became clear.

...Mamma and Pappa both died from
not havin hearts as strong as day
pride.

But I, in da face of lafta
by dem who chose not ta reach higha,
worked dat 'ol land...
an carried on wit my plans.

Yea me...me and Dorthy Mae
made our own way.
And here we is goin' on forty years.
Survivin' sometimes with nothin'
but da good grace of God above.

Yea...'Ol Arkansas
yo fields is a long time
away.

Da dirt, da sweat
a sun wit out mercy
daddy, mamma
a shack wit da outhouse
in da back,
friends an enemeis
hatred an love
a preddy lil' angel
been sent from h'ven
above.

'Ol Arkansas
can't says I ever did miss ya a whole lot...
but as my kids kids get grown
and got questions on where it is I come from
I smile a big wide smile an rememba dem days back
den.


....dream done....

I awake to the sun.
Grandpa today, has been
ten years gone.
Yet his chair and his knee
the westerns we watched on t.v.
seems to always rebirth a fresh memory.

Or it could be....
that when it comes down to me
the reason for remembering these things
is simply because I have an old soul
that cherishes in my heart what truly matters
most.

Saturday in the Park: A trilogy of Thoughts

P.D. - King of the Park:

These kids…
These kids running around
acting so wild and free
got me thinking
about me
when I was young
and Mama spent all her summer days
chasing down her two sons
over at the park
Columbus Park.
I had no worries
was in no hurry
to grow old and fade like
the sundown.
I was a clown, bouncin’ around
jumpin’ and runnin’
always climbin’ and swingin’ on somethin’.
When we inside
Mama say, “save your outside voice for outside”
well…we outside
and I aint shy!
P.D.! P.D.! I hear Anton callin’
“Hold on…I’m comin!’”
And zzzzzzzzooooooommmmmmmm, there I go
away somewhere I aint suppose to be
when Mama gets distracted by the baby.
Messin’ wit them kids that be, "eeeeeeewwwwwww"
kissin’ in the bushes
they don’t see until Anton starts gigglin’
then they get up and chase him and me.
“Leave me alone Chennelle…or Imma tell yo mama what you been doin’!”
“Who you dink you is ‘lil boy….you aint king of da park!”
Ha ha, what she didn’t know...
What she didn’t know was…
that I was!
Self proclaimed
whenever I stepped on the surface of that park
Columbus Park
There was always like 4 or 5 kids callin’ my name
There was always like 4 or 5 kids hittin’ me up to play a game
4 or 5 kids runnin’ ‘round getting into so many crazy things!
And it was a time when big kids looked after us
a time when we didn’t have to worry ‘bout them shooting us
a time when they blared Michael Jackson from their cars for us
and let us shoot a few hoops without the cussin’ and tryin’ to act all tough.
Yea the park…
Columbus Park.
‘Brother bein’ pushed in the blue baby swing
Mama gives up chasin' me
“'You too fast 'lil boy…too fast!”
Layin' in the grass, starin' at the sun
not knowin' these days weren’t meant to last
not knowin' life wasn’t always gonna be about this kind of fun.
But these kids…
these kids
runnin’ and jumpin’
always climbin’ and swingin’ on somethin'
got me thinking about my days
when I was P.D. - King of the park
Columbus Park.
________________________________________________________________

Athena:

…And she’s laughing so loud
running up and down the field
as the little boy stops to catch his breath
“boy, she’s quick! She aint ever gonna be it!”
I smile at his weezing words with a bit of pride…”I tell you what, tag me and I’ll do it.”
Here I go…she sees me coming for her
and waits
and waits
and wouldn’t you know it…this girl has the nerve to give ME a pump fake!
There she goes
fast like I never was
freestylin’ hair, flowing
long legs burning the grass
in her black and silver glitter Reeboks.
Chasing her down I remember when
we just wanted her to stand
but she started to run before she could walk
there she goes...
Yelling into the wind, “Catch me if you can Daddy!”
And I do
but as the years go by
it gets harder and harder to.
One day she will run and run and run
until a precious daughter’s shadow fades with the sun.
But holding back the tears, I’m thankful that all that is a long ways away
for I refuse to give in to the pump fake today.
________________________________________________________________

First Love:

Blue eyes I remember well
playing the young man’s game of first love
with picnics in the park.
Your soft skin was my first conception of Heaven
as your smile stole away every piece of my heart.
romance was two innocent youths laying on a blanket
sharing thoughts and dreams
paying attention to nothing outside our frame.
The older folks would say, “all that’s nice…but it’s just a phase.”
Love made me blind, but I was happy I could not see
for I had you to walk with me
for a while…
Blue eyes I remember well
how I loved being 16, holding hands and spending time with you.
In hindsight, with so many years gone by, the old folks were right
our love failed
but on days like this
when the air is pleasantly warm
and the sun begins to yawn
and there are young lovers laying together on a blanket off in the distance
I think of you
for there was enough joy and beauty in the affections
that were “nice…but just a phase”
to feel blessed, and keep in my heart
those cherished days of picnics in the park.

Mo

Men don’t say beautiful
When speaking of other men
But I feel like breaking a chain
Because ‘ol black man
With your dark skin
And tired eyes
You are beautiful.
You are beautiful
In the peaceful way the water from the river flows slowly
Rolling over rocks
On its way to anywhere.
You are beautiful
Can’t keep my minds eye off of you.
Beautiful in a way that creates
A life long memory
Just from the way you walked...
Talked....
Laughed out loud thunderously.
You are beautiful
in your melodic stroll
across black and white tile
and in your seconds of leisure
as you read the paper.
You stared intensely at me
for years while practicing your craft
And I didn't see it then
the things I see in you now that you're gone.
'Ol black man
time has come yet again
to claim a friend
But with humble words I say
you are beautiful.
You leave me
Regretfully melancholy now that you've gone back to the earth
But there is solace in knowing that I will see you again
on the occasion of MY rebirth.

Negro Thinks in Rest

Sky’s a driftin’
And I’s agh wonderin'
When my chariot gone come ta carry me home?
Sunlight’s dancin’
On top of dem trees
Sprinklin’ rays
Down ‘pon
Mys head
As da green grass
Becomes a bed
I’s dreamin’ bout da time when
Mys chariot gone come ta carry me home.
Wit da workin’ hard all days long
Ma Maybelle be singin’ her sweet song
bout God’s grace even wit
All da wrong dat be goin' on.
I din ask Him in mys spare time
When my chariot gone come ta carry me home?
Like dem birds dat know howta
Spread day wings an fly
I cry for da same ding.
Gone from dis place wit out
Sayin’ aint one goodbye.
If’in I’s could meet it in da’ sky
It wouldn’t hafta swing so low
My chariot dat gone come ta carry me home.
Mr. boss says “nigger get on up and get back ta work!”
I’s dinkin’ I aint knows nothin’ else since birth
As my head lifts from da earth
and mys tired feet get on back ta
Shufflin’
Back at pickin’ cotton
Long endless rows where sometimes
I’s feel forgotton
But Lord knows...
Got faith dat da good Lord knows
And He right up past dem clouds preparin'
A chariot ta come an carry me home.
Nigga gold filled to da top
As I's waitin’ in line
Waitin’ to be told is justa bout quittin’ time
Come dark dink I’s break out da moon shine
And wit my harp, howl at dem stars for a spell
Mr. Boss be wonderin’ as he hands me down mys pay “what da hell I‘s be smilin‘ for anyway?”
Is tell him justa dreamin’ bout dat day
When my chariot gone come ta carry me home.

Her...Exclusively

May I tell you that
she is more beautiful than anything I have ever
seen.
But she only exist in my dreams

so I dream often…
and exclusive to her.

A figment
I let walk ahead of me
so I can watch her move
in that effortless way.

On rainy days when I feel the most alone
there she is smiling with a raincoat in her hand

because we’re going dancin’…

out in the streets
without a care to what people may think.

And when her hair gets wet she doesn’t worry
when her mascara runs she could care less
if the heels of her shoes should break she simply tosses them into the wind
along with all convention.

With her I smile and laugh
like I forgot I could.
With her I am excited in a way
I didn’t know I could.
When I hold her it only encourages me to love her deeply and madly
like I should.

One can never speak of the splendor of the dawn without experiencing
its first rays upon her sleeping face.

She couldn’t have just happened
no…she is Eve reborn
over and over
by a God who creates masterpieces.

More beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen
I dream often…
exclusive to her.

Barbarshop 1948 - "If Grandpa Could only have seen these days"

we all men...
black men
just sittin' here
waitin'
waitin' on what?
waitin' on more than just a
haircut.
waitin' for our dreams
to bust open at the
seams.

waitin' for life beyond this little shop and dirty streets
to not be such a hassle
for my people and me.
my people with dirty shoes
...will we ever overcome
our blues?

my wifes a queen...my daughters a princess
but they don't get treated so by the powers that think they
be
and for that i'm always in distress
and can't seem to break free.

in the barbershop i may be next in
line
but in life i'm growin' old
my hair turnin' gray
waitin'
just waitin'
for my day.

i want to be king
but give me the respect of being a man
instead of sittin' in back of buses...waitin' till ya'll through to eat
our lunches...
off of dirty plates
always metophorically living off the scrapes you din just ate.

yea...but the barbarshop
is where i'm free
the strains of the outside world can't get to me.

my people can laugh and smile
and articulate in our own way
and nobody says nothin'
about us bein'
NOTHIN'S

The Image of Soul

The image of soul
Is sista gurl walkin’ down
Ghetto streets
With a big ol’ afro
An’ pearls gracin’ a long neck
That inspires poetry
Not spoken since
A cat named Solomon
Threw down reflections
Of one whose spell
He was under.
Wonder…
Where she go
When she walkin’ slow
Like a gentle breeze?
Beauty that is glorified
By the sun
As reflections
Bounce off mirrors and windows
And her silhouette shadow
Stretches in my Direction.
One thinks “Heaven”
One says “lust”
I break from the crowd in disgust
Unable to tag thoughts
On a woman
Whose hand…in my dreams
Is paralyzin’ with every touch
To my skin.Dark beauty
The image of soul
Makes me long for my
Ancestral home.
When woman was woman
Created as compliment
To her warrior man.
She dances in the moonlight
Surrounded by fire
Spurring on desire
With her rhythm.
‘Fraid of nothin’
Strong in body and spirit.
Will not fall for anything
Will not attach to just anyone.
Yes…I find that I must
Take on a Lion
And climb a mountain
Just so that my credentials
Are a non-issue.
The image of soul
The more I see her the
More it becomes known
Of my desire to
Make her my own.
One thinks “Heaven”
One says “lust”
I break from the crowd in disgust
Thinkin’ this woman was
Not created for the single benefit of us.
Solomon I understand…
How God’s soft creature
Can grip the thoughts Of man.
These streets
Are Paradise Eden
When she walks through
Them.
But an apple not picked quite so easily.
She is the image of soul.

In The Comfort of Autumn

Old Katherine awakens to an early sun.
Slowly she moves her feet
Toward the open window.
When her eyes watch,
They watch beyond the allowance
Of her fading green pupils
Into that picture of memory
Where the world is kind
And she is young and full of energy.
Yes, her eyes...
Fading green pupils
Fixated on
The beauty of colored Leaves
Falling
Slowly down upon the street
Connects her heart
To the days of running care free along cobblestone streets
Yelling at the sky
With good friends cherished, that have long since returned back to the earth.
Yes…old Katherine with elderberry tea in hand
Sips slowly. It’s aroma blends well with what the morning’s outside
Air has filled her tiny apartment with.
Sitting on a chair by the open window
She comes upon a decision and proclaims out loud
to her lazy cat Chester that…“today is the day I will excite these weary bones.
Today the dust will not settle on me.
Gone is a summer of merciless heat.
I will walk
And if the age of my body permits I shant return for
Quite the while.
Around the corner a fierce winter will come And imprison me
But today…today, I will embrace
The comforts of autumn.”
And with that Katherine showers
And dresses
Grabs her coat
And places upon her head a
Covering that wraps from the
Top of the hair and is tied
Underneath the neck.
After feeding Chester she is ready
And out the door she goes.

Immediately she is almost run over By a boy on a bike.
But the boy is a youthful gentleman and Stops to apologize.
Katherine smiles
Keeping her humor about her “young man it is quite alright
I am old and slow
And I know you youth’s have
Places to go.”
The boy grins and waves
And off, indeed he goes.

Again with the memory of cobblestone
The worn down concrete
Reveals the old ways in patches.
Katherine notices and thinks…“
Men with their loud and fancy cars.
Pa’s horse drawn buggy was always
More appealing.
When the wheels rolled along
The brick, that sound was soothing
And it was real.
It harmonized with the outside world And the conversations we use to have
Never reaching distracting volumes.
Beauty in its simplicity.
And now…well, now I suppose
There’s stereo.”

Her feet take her to the market
And Henry is outside sweeping
The dust.
He is pleasantly surprised to see Katherine up and about the neighborhood
But can’t help but wonder
If he’d left anything out from the
Weekly box of groceries he delivers to her
Every Tuesday.
But surely she would have called and scolded
Instead of walking down.
So it is with a smidge of worry upon his face that he greets old Katherine with a smile
“Well miss Katherine…fine to see you
On this beautiful day.”
Long in years but still very sharp
She notices the look of Henry
And with her fun sense about her
She quickly conjures up a sour scowl
And an unpleasant disposition.
And Henry is no longer
Half…
He is fully worried.
But Katherine cannot keep the face
Of a mad woman very long
Before the cracks of a grin
Completely intrude.
And in her glow she embraces Henry’s arm and
Offers a warm hello
Then, after which her eyes
become fixated on a barrel of apples
Lined along the storefront.
Noticing, Henry speaks.
“Those are fresh miss Katherine…
My boy brought them in from down state just the other day.”
And while Katherine ruffled through
Her purse looking for change
Henry spots the perfect specimen
And shines it so that the sun
highlights its autumn color.
“For you Miss Katherine…”His outstretched hands invite her
To take the gift.
“No doubt, I’ll bet, the sweetest of the bunch for the sweetest of the bunch…
No charge.”
her pale wrinkled skin turns bright red around the cheeks
as Henry’s charm is pleasent to the heart
but very much un-expected.
Miss Katherine takes the apple
And issues a thank you.
“No doubt Henry…if I were only 20 Years younger.”
And with that remark she waves A goodbye to the sweeping store owner.

Pop pop...
was the name given to Grandfather Reginald By her when she was just a little girl.
And along the way Pop pop had
Begun to hold her hand in memory
Just like way back when
He use to take her on long walks
On the farm during the setting of the sun.
The apple that tasted so good and sweet
Helps her remember that Pop pop use to love to pick apples
For Grandma’s special pies.
He use to say…“Kathy ya’ gotta’ be extra
Particular when you pickin’ dem apples Fer pie.
If it aint look just right Ya’ grandma’ just ain’t gonna’
Use it.
She takes as much pride an’ joy in makin’ dem things
As we’s do eatin’ em’.
Yessem’, she’d justa’ bout
Scrap a whole barrel din make one bad pie.
I’s know it…Cause I’d seen her to do it.”

“First frost…”

First frost was when Pop pop thought apple picking to be at its best.
Yes sir…before the first frost is when dey the sweetest.
When the Juice wets your whistle
And you can’t hardly keep it from runnin' All down yo’ chin after
Ev’ry bite.”
As the apple from Henry
Is munched down
Katherine embarrassingly wipes
The little juice from her chin
With her handkerchief
Hoping that know one noticed
Her momentary lapseIn tidiness.
“First frost indeed”
She smiles.

Tiredness becomes a
Burden only rest could mend.
So…
Simple solution in the way of
A bench in the park
Marks her next steps.
In the moments of rest
The birds sing beautifully.
With her eyes closed she
Takes it all in.
The rustling leaves…
The laughing children…
“A symphony”
She whispers eyes still closed.
Wondering on a title for Such beautifully simplistic harmony
It comes…
“I think I will call it In the Comfort of Autumn.”

One, perhaps two hours later
and a re-energized Katherine should like to continue on
“Let me walk through
Downtown.
I would like to gaze for A bit at the
Store windows.”
She thought to herself.
So she did…
There was the store
That fashioned antiques And when she noticed A pop gun,
The kind that was
Air compressed with
A string attached to the bullet,
Christmas came to mind,
in particular the year her Little brother Willie
Received his toy rifle.
How she hated that thing
For Willie,
Never-minding how much she begged & cried,
use to take her Dolls and line them Up and shoot at them.
Out of meanness
Out of spite
Out of simply suffering
From the disease
Known asBoyhood.
With the thought of Willie
Tears start to form,
not for the destruction of childish dolls
but For Willie,
who not so long after receiving that toy rifle
traded it in
For the real thing And lost his life
in the deserts of Africa
In the spring of ’42,
Not yet cured from his disease.

The Victrola nestled neatly in the corner of the window
Is a memory that eases the sad tears a bit.
It’s a memory that brings laughter.
Laughter in the fondness of thought of late nights
At the all girls college
After Sister Clara made her rounds
And the girls did their best to keep from
Snickering underneath the blankets
As the light shined upon their beds.
Soon they’d be off to
Meet sailors
And back To recap
each adventure
Over Sinatra or Crosby.

About SAILORS…

There was one that
Anchored Katherine’s heart
So much so that she
Was thinking
And planning
And waiting patiently
For him to return home
But war is unkind
And for some…
Extremely.
She never held those dear
Ideas for anyone in all the
Years since.
Chosen instead to make him
Fulfill his promise
When she happens on him again.

"Time to be on my way home."

Downtown is beginning to buzz
The night is slowly turning over to the Young.
"There is nothing further that I need to see…
These stores are too expensive
For my taste anyhow.”
And with that Katherine soon
Finds herself outside the door
Of her tiny apartment.
The rattling of her keys
Awakens Chester
And hungry he stands by the door
For Katherine.
Annoyed by his bickered meowing
Katherine picks him up And gives him a cold stare.
“Now, now Chester…Mama must go out every once and a while.
”But she knew Chester couldn’t care Less.
So old Katherine fed the Cat
And changed her clothes,
Putting on her night dress.
A pot of water was brewed
For the night cap of elderberry tea.
As Katherine sits by the chair next to the window
She reflects upon the day…
Moving images flickering off the bright moon.
“It’s been a good day…It truly has.”
After the tea she lay in her bed
And the soothing breeze from the morning that inspired her day
has come back for the night.
And old Katherine rest peacefully…
In the comfort of autumn.