Lynne is a cute girl with a calico skirt
Hanging clothes on the line, to wash off the dirt
She is observed by a young lad visiting called Bert
What is her name? He asked his loving Aunt Gert
Aunt Gert went to the window and looked to see
That girl by the clothesline? She belongs to Dolly Lee
But what is her name? Asked Bert, who wanted to know.
You cannot go out there, she would be embarrassed so.
But why? Asked Bert, as he continued to stare
Because said his auntie, Lynne has curlers in her hair
This was in the old days, when etiquette was real.
When being caught with pajamas or curlers was a big deal
Gamine Gert got on well with boys
She blew up dolls and the rest of her toys
We used to call gals like her tomboys in my day
She is wiring the house now; Gamine Gert don’t play.
When mama made her famous green Jello dessert
We knew something big was about to happen to our family.
Sometimes it was company like Great-Grandma’s sister, Gert.
Other times it meant we were getting another baby.
Tonight we walked in and saw it and I saw Daddy look tough.
He probably is tired of children, sixteen is probably enough.
It’s not Gert again, is it? He asked with a weary long sigh.
Mama shook her head no and said “It’s your uncle Cy.”
Forget everything you have heard about stereotyping the pigs.
I met some the other day, who were cleaner than my cousin Jigs.
They vacuumed and dusted the barnyard until it was clean enough to eat.
Then they cleaned out the barn, until it was ridiculously spotlessly neat.
Forget about mud, someone said when they met these pigs.
They are now doing some weird dance, wearing clean glitzy wigs.
Their hooves do not have mud, not even a tiny bit of dirt.
Do not stereotype these pigs, said my amazed cousin Gert.
They could not discuss politics; religion was out.
Never agreed on anything, my cousins Gert and Pout.
Gert was a liberal, Pout was against politics of all kinds.
They were sisters forever but had two opposite minds.
We ten stood behind Marvel, holding on to each other.
Not sure what was going to happen. Afraid of the wrath of our brother.
She is the oldest girl in the family, and our cousin to boot.
She likes to smoke a cigar, play with guns, and yell things like “shoot!”
The rest of us sisters and cousins wanted to back her play.
We knew what she had been scheming and planning today.
I am going to wear pants to the family reunion, she said.
Oh no Marvel! Some of us yelled. You might end up dead!
We have to support her, cousin Lou insisted, and in a big way.
We discussed wearing pants – all of us, on this fateful day.
But most of us were fearful of the wrath of God and so….
We held on to Marvel, as she strutted about with her inner glow.
Marvel is the bravest of the brave, we all thought, giggling.
Some of were avoiding eye contact as the rest were sniggling.
Why don’t you all come out in pants? Uncle Jake gave a yell.
Because then, said Grandma Gert “They would all go to hell.”
My heart is beating, and God sees this ;
In my mind, there's no one to share my heart with;
God sees this; he looks up; huh, we both know;
That we're not alone. He's my groom; I am his bride ;
He has never left my side;
Do I hurt, though? I may say ;
That I am not alone, yet I am alone;
This today ;
And I firmly believe this;
Loneliness ;
I feel it's a physical hurt ;
My mental gert;
God can do all things spiritually and physically
I have to trust and believe;
There's a physical love out there for me;
5/29/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022
We are trying to one up each other as usual – another story teller and I.
Our stories are getting wilder, less plausible, and we are laughing.
Suddenly I remember my pal Gertrude’s story.
I am pretty sure it was a lie, but it made a terrific story.
Gert was married to a man who was a rounder.
He started going out on Saturday nights, all slicked up and handsome.
He did not take her.
Refused actually.
About six months later her friends said he was getting married.
They had been invited to his wedding – next Saturday.
On Saturday he dressed especially nice with a boutonniere.
Gert said “You look good enough to get married.”
She said he did not even blink.
He did get married to the other woman, illegally.
I have no idea if the other woman knew he was already married or not.
Let’s see you top this story, I thought
There was silence.
Then we both burst out laughing.
I
If one evangelizes for God, caution
Must never be thrown to the wind
In (mission) field, social science education
As anthropology says, learn, be kind:
Slow to judge, eager to understand
Many spirits roam each people & land
II
I helped a grandmother escape a lover
Long dead, but haunted her home, bed,
Every lover she had, from age 40, widowed
That young, robbed of any joy, but Jesus
How does one from America fight dead
And jealous but dead lovers, causing chaos?
But on one's knees: Jesus, thy Holy Spirit
Will boot out every foul spirit
Hanging on to this lady, even to her church:
In South Africa. 'traditional healers' (Iniquity)
And a Constitution permits sangoma witchdoctors -
Fought on my knees, I begged Trinity for favor
For safety, and power in prayer, the Blood
Of Jesus, pleaded, as in Egypt pre- Exodus
Gave Mrs. Gert the freedom she'd long lost
Yet having to leave that church where she and
Gerald had worshipped - he, merely, secondhand
If I had known Gert had cancer I might have backed off.
No, you wouldn’t have.
How do you know?
I know you.
But if I had known it was the last time I would see her.
I might have…..
Her voice trails off.
She catches herself in her own lie.
She feels badly now.
There was no reason to act the way she had.
Maybe she will do better next time.
There is no time left now.
She picks up the phone.
To call her other sister.
To ask about the arrangements
Wishing she could call Gert’s children
But not feeling she should dare.
If I had known Gert had cancer I might have backed off.
No, you wouldn’t have.
How do you know?
I know you.
But if I had known it was the last time I would see her.
I might have…..
Her voice trails off.
She catches herself in her own lie.
She feels badly now.
There was no reason to act the way she had.
Maybe she will do better next time.
There is no time left now.
She picks up the phone.
To call her other sister.
To ask about the arrangements
Wishing she could call Gert’s children
But not feeling she should dare.
What can lies create, conceal, remake
That truth doesn't sanctify as pure snowflake
What could mouthed trust in Providence provide
That pride now, once desperate youth, would hide?
G-risly
E-nemy
R-eally
T-errifies
S-hocked
T-ravelers
R-egarding
Y-ucky
D-isease
O-f
M-ankind
Topic: Birthday of poet Gert Strydom (April 03)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
~ Grandma Gertie Keeps Her Word ~
Grandma Gertie would always keep her word
'Twas a sign of a righteous soul, she'd heard --
Tasty turkey she'd promised
Did her best to be honest --
Oven went out ~ She flipped Grandpa the bird
~ The Right Stuff-ing ~
'The stuffing's got to be from the right stuff'
Said Gertie, then she walked off in a huff
The kids made it all wrong
Way too spicy, too strong
So they smoked it ~ giving Gert the first puff
G-reat
E-xcellent
R-ighteous
T-hinker
S-ees
T-o
R-ead
Y-our
D-ivine
O-utstanding
M-essage
Topic: Birthday of Poet Gert Strydom (April 03)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Jose, Harvey, Irma, Gert,
Cat. Five puts us on alert.
Howsoever they are named,
Mother's fury can't be tamed.
Churning, roiling, liquid wall,
looming four-plus metres tall.
Floods of biblical expanse,
survival just happenstance.
Wind whipped into lethal squall,
hammers those trapped in its thrall.
Sturdy palm trees battered flat,
Man and beast lost habitat.
Follow devastation's trail,
turmoil on a global scale.
Home and business torn apart,
plucking at strings of the heart.
Lacking basic requisites,
in amongst the detritus.
Mourning all that has been lost,
how begin to count the cost?
Thank the selfless volunteers,
who assist their stalwart peers.
Former tropic paradise,
scene of noble sacrifice.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
11 September 2017
My thoughts and best wishes go out to all those affected by the catastrophic weather in the Caribbean and the United States.
For the "Hurricanes" contest, sponsored by Julie Rodeheaver.
(5th Place)
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