Long Older Poems
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Mama, mama they don’t like me for the color of my skin;
Oh, daddy why won’t they play with me;
What’s wrong wit me;
Older brother Ronnie says they is…president
(He means prejudice)
Daddy I’m sick of it;
Mama they don't like me, for the color of my skin;
What Oh did I ever do to them...
Don’t I have two eyes, like them?
Don’t I have one mouth and two arms, and…
Don’t I have just one nose and…
Why? Just why won’t they be my friend, my friend;
Mama, mama they don’t like me for the color of my skin;
Oh, daddy why won’t they play with me;
What’s wrong wit me
My brown eyes are the same I can see them;
Yet some of theirs are blue, green and hazel;
Oh, God Oh God why don’t they play wit me;
Mama, mama they don’t like me for the color of my skin;
Oh, daddy why won’t they play with me;
What’s wrong wit me;
Mama they don't like me, for the color of my skin;
What Oh did I ever do to them...
I will end this song I will sing;
Lord God what is wrong wit me;
I’m pouty and upset…
Mama what is this thing called PREUDICE…
7/11/75
Written words & arranged music by
The Corinthian™ & James Edward Lee ©1975, 2019
Written for “Little Nicey”
I'm learning to have the nurture of a woman because of you
I thank my sister for bringing a vibrant flower into this world
I see more color start to hue.
Having a little sidekick, another little sister
You're silly and ready to go
You act like you can take over the world
Violet, I hope you see this one day
Knowing that you mean so much to me, no one can tear us apart.
I love being an older sister, someone you can talk to
I can't wait for your future and see how life goes.
You're so smart for just being three, but I won't say it to ur face since that will be your biggest enemy. lol
The neighborhood convence store
was always good for necessities and more
Together I would walk with my dad
and to get a smile and make me glad
A bag of jellybeans he would add
to whatever it was my mother had to had
Once home the bag empty into the jar
those jellybeans wouldn't last or go far
For hands would grab the sweet fruity treat
a favorite that my family loved to eat
My dad prefer the black licorice
the red cherry was everyones wish
Purple grape my mom did love
white pineapple into my mouth I shoved
Pink strawberry my older sister liked
orangey orange to the middle one was a delight
Yellow lemon my youngest sister sought
but the green lime was a jellybean flop
We would trade for our favorite flavors
but poor green jellybeans no one savored
My sweet tooth would get to me in time
so I would eat the green jellybeans of lime
After awhile green jellybeans tasted good
this was something my family finally understood
Trade you two pinks for that green jellybean
the once discarded green now ruled supreme
I enjoy all those childhood flavors now everytime
but I always end my jellybean treat with a tasty green lime
My nerves they’re bad
My temper is short
My frustration comes easy
Would it hurt for someone to do one thing to please me?
To please a heart that was broken from a father who doesn't want her.
Á father who doesn't notice her. A father who doesn't say I love you.
He makes me wonder, "Does he even want me?" Time spent with older
brother,
all my time spent with my mother, but even I make time for my brother.
I’m not alone because of my mother, but what happened to the figure of a
father.
I am this mans only daughter. My skin complexion he looks no farther.
The attitudes and frustration cover the fact this problem bothers me.
My heart from a stabbed womb bleeds. Why doesn't he want me?
I’m his baby, I still make A's and B's, this part of my life is so empty.
Can anyone hear me, can you feel me. Stretching and reaching out for my
Daddy.
"Does he even want me?" A hug I ask I dare to plead.
My nerves they’re bad
My temper is short
My frustration might come easy
These parts of me I get from he! “Why doesn’t my daddy want me?"
"Cry Out!"
I saw peacock feathers stuck in fences when I was a child.
The farm next to my grandparents raised peacocks.
They were the prettiest colors of purple and gold.
I wanted to run over there and grab some up.
My mother thought it would be rude, so we didn’t.
My grandparents used to go to Mexico every year.
They brought back tiny paintings with black backgrounds.
There were peacocks made from red, blue and yellow feathers.
They were pretty, but did not compare to the real deal.
The real peacocks made the meanest noises.
I was much older when I realized all the colorful ones are male.
The female is plain brown, so she can easily hide with eggs.
How ridiculous! I thought. All of those beauties are males!
How sad for the females. But God has a plan I am sure.
It would not have been my plan, but it seems to work.
I have a fascination for peacocks that borders on ridiculous.
I have peacock curtains, peacock pillows, and I paint peacocks.
Maybe if my mother had let us collect some of those feathers
I could have been normal, but I am obsessive about them.
I adore everything about them – the colorful ones.
Some have passion and
Dreams in their hearts
That weave in and out
Beyond the edges
Of small places
Their dreams may be only words to some
But to them they mean everything.
And others,
Just as young,
Run off
With no plans
No ideas
And never a second thought.
The dreamers and the aimless
Eventually meet
In the East Village
Center of the counterculture in New York
Birthplace of artistic movements
Punk rock
The Nuyorican literary movement
Site of protests and riots
A place of coffee shops and smart pubs
Hidden inside tenements and dank basements.
And every corner busy.
The older residents
Are immune to the antics of this place
Living in the neighborhood for decades
They have witnessed its many changes
Speaking a hundred different languages,
Accents from the cold climate
Of Eastern Europe
And warm places in the Islands,
Theirs is a smaller world of
Cheap apartments
And open air markets
Where customers
Still haggle over prices.
In dark places
Painted over decades of neglect
Old Polish ladies silently pray
In empty Catholic Churches
Built over a hundred years ago.
By Fall the last Summer’s batch of young leave
Some with promises
Others with regrets
But if there is a regularity
To the ebb and flow of this place
It is the tide
Always bringing in the new.
On Avenue A,
Just off Tompkins Square Park,
An old Spanish woman sits
In a doorway
Watching the artists, radicals and fashion lovers
Walk by
Anyone who cares to listen
Will hear her sing
An old lullaby
"Close your eyes little ones and sleep
And dream while the angels watch over you
I will hold your hand
And when you wake up in the morning I’ll still be here."
We needed one more day in Bangor for three simple reasons why…
to see Stephen King’s House, take a photo with Paul Bunyan
and to eat the first of many a Whoopie Pie.
At Stephen King’s house our photo was taken by Molly a three year old girl
because it is our objective…
as we grow ever older never to lose sight of a child’s perspective.
Next it was on to the a 31 foot high statue of Paul Bunyan
where he stands taller than some trees
Bangor claims to be his birthplace…
(although Akeley, Minnesota disagrees.)
Our photo was taken by a man a little older than us…
because it is our objective…
As we grow ever older…to see the world from both perspectives.
Last but definitely not least…is the one reason that remains…
why we’ve driven from Washington and chose to end our trip Maine.
It’s because we’re on a quest…we’ve decided we will try
to search the state of Maine for the perfect Whoopie Pie.
Tomorrow we head even farther east…
after driving our rental car from the farthest west….
which means we have 5 days before heading home
to complete our Whoopie Pie quest.
Our plan is a simple one…without Stephen King here to guide us
on this quest…this journey…this climb…
we’ll face this challenge as Paul Bunyan did his trees…
one Whoopie Pie at at time.
Born among stars, for a star, too, am I
A scion of the Earth and the star-filled sky
Helios, my name, called by ancient ones
Stardust clings as I am now among suns
My essence is of sea waves at high tide
or, as they gently kiss shore, then collide
The hills share portions of the mystery
as they often bend down and kiss the sea
The wind whispers as it calls my real name
It scatters ice crystals where snow lays claim
The gardens of flowers, fruits and leafed trees
Mix with scent of honey, carried by bees
I know night and day under lilac skies
Dawn to Sunset I am Time as it flies
All are my essence, born of older time
I am dweller in human heart divine
There was a naughty boy
and a naughty boy was he,
for nothing would he do
but live for his family.
He has never had a holiday
since 1991
all the monies
he has earned
were for his kids
to have much fun.
Now his kids are older
his time
has finally arrived, for
he has a taste for music
so to a concert
he will strive.
2010 is around the corner
to England he will go
to see some famous
Rock bands
and marvel
at their
shows
And when he does return
his journey
will be shared with you,
for since 1991
his music has
seen him
through.
My entry into Brian's contest " Christmas Parlour Poetry "
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-3.php
Hey Dad
Hey Dad, do you wanna go shoot or maybe throw a ball?
Hey Dad, do you see how much I’ve grown? Betcha you’ll never guess how tall.
Hey Dad, look I got an ‘A’, just like you said I would!
Hey Dad, you know I studied extra hard this time and it really turned out good.
Hey Dad, did you see me get that hit? I swung really, really hard.
Hey Dad, can we go mow the grass? It’s getting tall there in the yard.
Hey Dad, can you watch me do this flip? I’ve been practicing every day.
Hey Dad, I just want to be like you in each and every way.
Hey Dad, I’m getting older and might be home a little late.
Hey Dad, it’s okay, you don’t have to worry, watch and wait.
Hey Dad, I’ve finally picked a college, I’ll be starting in the fall.
Hey Dad, it’s going to be great, don’t you know I’ll have a ball!
Hey Dad, I’ve met a real nice girl, I think that she could be the one.
Hey Dad, I might end up getting married when graduation’s finally done.
Hey Dad, seems like it’s been forever, just thought I’d call you and say ‘Hi’.
Hey Dad, yeah the kids are doing great, so for now I’ll say ‘goodbye’.
Hey Dad, you know we need to get together, seems like it’s been a while.
Hey Dad, how about you come and see us? We’d love to see your smile.
Hey Dad, I just wanted to say ‘thanks’ for everything you did.
Hey Dad, can we go throw the ball again, and pretend like I’m a kid?