I’m Cindy Mae, come walk today
among my village of snow-people and play
with my Billy goat, Fagan and I;
just outside of the red barn, it lies.
I built it with my own two hands,
with smiles, cold fingers, I now stand,
among snow-babies, pure and white;
I must name them all, before the fall of night.
Oh Fagan, Fagan, what shall we call them?
They’re all so very cute and prim.
I’ll name one Billy, one Fagan, after you;
another after my new baby sister, Sue.
As these snow-stars continue to fall,
it makes me think of cotton balls;
I’ll name one Cotton, one Q-tip,
those two, I will name Chip and Skip.
Oh Fagan, aren’t they wonderful?
This day, I have just had a ball.
Now there’s two more that need a name;
I know, I’ll call them, John and James.
Those are my cousins who’ve never seen snow;
they reside in California, in Garden Grove.
Fagan I’ve worked up an appetite,
and Mom’s making warm stew tonight!
MUSICAL PASSION
Music is the living soul
And beating heart of humanity.
It lights my fire of passion
Or tames my restless spirit.
Music calls me to live, taste, feel and see.
The spark of hope and change is ignited.
I hear the voice of the silenced and
Feel the anguish of the oppressed.
The soothing, soulful sounds of
Mangione’s flugelhorn makes me
“Feel so Good. “
The gritty, nasally voice of Dylan
Calls me to listen, for the answers
“Blowin’ in the Wind.”
The rich baritone of Cash
Warns me not to fall
In to the “Ring of Fire.”
Fogerty’s powerful voice
Invites me to dance with Willie and the Po Boys
“Down on the Corner.”
With Hank I can taste that
Home made “Jambalaya”
On the bayou.
Peter, Paul and Mary
Take me to that cherry lane
with “Puff the Magic Dragon.”
I can now call myself “Deacon Blues”
When I lose,
Becker and Fagan tell me.
I can taste the sweet
Tupelo Honey that flows
From the voice of Van Morrison
Jim Morrison said it for me
taking poetic license
music Light’s My Fire.
"Good Morning Heartache"- Billie Holiday
Born to heartache was Eleanor Fagan
in reform school by 9 in Baltimore, Maryland.
At 11 years old she was almost raped.
But she was blamed and jailed for the case.
When 14 she was arrested again,
for her and mother's prostitution game.
What a sad life for a child, you might say.
But this heartache gave birth to Lady Day.
She sang with Artie Shaw, Count and the Duke.
She sang of "southern trees bearing strange fruit."
In her voice you could tell what pain was all about.
It was catharsis for her tragic life sung out.
She suffered the pangs of drug addiction,
with frequent busts, arrests and convictions.
A pearly white gardenia graced her ear.
At Carnegie Hall, she was something to hear.
As she lay ill the law came in again.
Handcuffed to the bed, her life came to an end.
So, "God bless the child, that got her own,"
our Billie Holiday whose heartache's gone.
2/12/17
Eleanora Fagan, professionally known as Billie Holiday, and Lady Day was an American jazz musician and singer-songwriter with a career spanning nearly thirty years. She died at 44.