poetry

Poetry Blues

sittin’ here on my porch chair
tryin’ to think up a song
I wish I had me some crickets
so they could sing along
but if it’s just me I can’t lose
by writin’ poetry blues

poetry blues is expression
from the earth right up through your feet
words that reveal what you’re feelin’
start a tinglin’ in your teeth

that’s how you know it’s bitin’

ever once in a while then
it start to feelin’ so good
and you wonder if it’s right
if poetry blues should
but since it’s me that is writin’
I don’t mind if I would

poetry blues is expression
from the earth right up through your feet
words that reveal what you’re feelin’
start a tinglin’ in yo teeth

that start to sound familiar

wonder if these words go out
if anyone else will read
will it just be me and myself
that their sentiment feed
and not just me and my muse
enjoyin’ poetry blues

poetry blues is expression
from the earth right up through your feet
words that reveal what you’re feelin’
start a tinglin’ in yo teeth

feel a buzzin’ in yo teeth

it be shinin’ through yo teeth

go ahead son

everbody got da blues once in while

just don’t stay there forever

get up get out say hi

get out yo head

dat right

heh

First Haircut

The moment his mom sat him
in the chair at the beauty shop,
he knew in his very small heart
he’d be losing his favorite locks.
The ones he’d been working on growing
from when he was smaller still,
than today, the day when they sat him,
and he felt just a little ill.
Not the sick you feel when you’ve eaten
too much ice cream and berry pie.
Not even the sick you experience
on a twisty turning car ride.
No, this was more like foreboding,
if he knew what foreboding meant.
It was the fear that his mirror at home
would never be the same again.
So for now best to think up a strategy,
again, if he knew what one was,
to make all scissors go away
and in their place put a brush.
Don’t cut his hair for a while now.
He’ll need some time to recover
from this time he was sentenced to the chair
and experienced such a trauma.
He’ll grow his hair for some time
and come up with a weird design
fitting for a teen age.
You might then wear the face
he’s sported this day
when his favorite locks went away. ©

Janet’s Baby Song

I published this song previously along with a couple others as part of a musical called Bring on the Birth.

Something
Is stirring within me
Someone
A life, beginning in me
Expanding our family of two
A child, growing in me
Could it be son?
Or maybe a daughter
Either sex will do

A child means a future
Full of hope and some dreams
A child means our family
Instead of two is now three
And though his big tomorrow
Is somehow just out of our view
With his hand in mine
He’s got a whole world to choose

I can feel my baby growing
He dances and kicks and more
I wonder what he will be like
What does he have in store?
For the world in awe which greets him
Amazed at his perfect small hands
Welcomes a wondrous baby
And gently by one expands

A child means a future
Full of hope and some dreams
A child means our family
Instead of two is now three
And though his big tomorrow
Is somehow just out of our view
With his hand in mine
He’s got a whole world to choose

I trust my body to bring our child
Into the world we share
The legacy of my sisters
Gives it the wisdom of the ages
And when I see my newborn baby
And hear him cry to the world
My labor will be written
On one of those many pages

A child means a future
Full of hope and some dreams
A child means our family
Instead of two is now three
And though his big tomorrow
Is somehow just out of our view
With his hand in mine
He’s got a whole world to choose