Miss Celie’s love is soft and slender,
The meeting of water smoothing stones,
Miss Celie’s love has tender lip
And from her mouth
Blooms both melody and roses,
At Miss Celie’s love, all look twice
Pay attention for a while
To her croon and shimmy,
Miss Celie’s love is the wild flower,
Nobody can own her even Miss Celie,
She is as free as the glitters
That bounce off her dress,
Miss Celie’s love is a wonders creature.
Four score and many more
And still within her prime
In her mind and in the woods,
Hunting, fishing, trapping,
A workhorse of a woman.
Watch her go- swing the axe,
Cleaving wood, making fence posts,
Shoveling sand, raking it,
Trapping rabbits, beavers, bears,
Skinning, cleaning, bottling,
Pelts, skins, berries wild,
Out doing many a man is
This woman of the North.
She built her own houses, a carpenter,
Lover of her cabin and the wild
In Hawks Bay, Newfoundland.
Celie never rests.
God bless her as she attributes to Him
All her abilities and good health.
Celie - the woman does it all.
A W.C.Hull Poem © 2010-2022-704 (D)
Born in Africa
Lovely and rare
Few others can compare
To the depths of beauty and of light
To the colors of her moods
Sometimes blue like Billie Holiday
Sometimes the color purple like Celie or even queen Nefertiti
She constantly amazes and changes
Never the same
Like an African woman
In Africa or in the diaspora
No one can destroy her
She grows, survives and thrives
She is a jewel infinitely bright
Her name is tanzanite