I scream for ice cream she shouted until her lungs burned
she was a tomboy with a strawberry birth mark on her cheek
she ran like she owned gumby legs and Popeye arms of steel
never wiped a dish in her life, she was too busy climbing trees
When she was home her tongue would never stop wagging
and the stories that she told took up all of mom's afternoon
She would dig into the fridge for freshly washed strawberries
then ask with a grin " when is the ice cream truck coming? "
"Dishes don't get cleaned by themselves" mom noted
Mr. Dunbar is fixing his truck, its going to take all afternoon
then she would pull out a tub of strawberry ice cream and say
"Dig in and enjoy the taste on your tongue" while Annie smiled
I scream for ice cream shouted a hoyden girl with wild curls
she could really dish it out when she chose to holler
when she came home with a tongue on fire from hot pepper candy
"Dig in, enjoy the cool taste on your tongue " mom said with a grin.
July 5, 2022
Words used : strawberries, dish, tongue, afternoon
The people who love me.
I'm a crazy girl for them.
The people who hate me.
I'm a lousy gal for them.
The people who ruined my life.
I'm a broken reed for them.
The people who upbraid me.
I'm a hoyden for them.
The people who poke fun at me.
I'm a duffer for them.
The people who betrayed me.
I'm a dud for them.
The people who don't know me.
I'm a stranger to them.
O, that daylight could command
when I sit with writing pen in hand
That verse could flood my tablet
and let morning become my habit
Then like others I would at last be,
muse's heartbeat set live and free
No sad hoyden, no mysterious frump
who quivers in darkness like a lump
Prisms of sun would dance with glee
celebrating a reborn joy inside of me
No more looks askance at who I am
Proud, preening lioness instead of lamb
Alas, as words grace paper like a crown
my senses feel the sun slithering down
A little light within me has begun to glow
as blossoms the sweetest time I will know
O, glory ebon hours, bring the moon to rise
delight me with the satin dark of the skies
Magnolia-honey air, heavy with heat
Kudzu vines twining, knitting the city
Spanish moss masks the old hoyden,
and she manage to think herself pretty
Shutters, and fans lazily turning
keep the suffocating heat of afternoon at bay
Lanais and balconies, sanctuary given
Folks resting until it is cool enough to play
Languid lazy persistence of mosquitoes
Hands too enervated to swat them away
Down Bourbon a honky tonk is whispering
Birds and butterflies hide from the heat of day
Bawdy houses and mansions - quaint
Charm oozes from the Big Easy's pores
Secrets and antiquities languish behind
ancient shops with their secret doors
Now - a muddy ruin, wiped from the earth
No more Mardi Gras or ladies teas - or riots
Just a flow muddy rubble and water rising
Big Easy is dying as its chaos quiets
Can she rise again as the south did long ago?
Can she pick up her skirts refuse to fade?
A southern lady is a strong woman - defiant
Under her petticoats, Big Easy, quality-made!
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