by Laurie Lyle
My love, you are so divine
You stick your finger up, making that sign
Baby, you have to know it’s mine, all mine
I am sick and tired of hearing you all the time
Passing remarks, complaining
All about my miniature, small thing
How much you make me sizzle
With your undersized, small thing
It aches me so to ease the pain I try to sing
Wish I could fly away like an angel
Fly away on wings, go hide somewhere
With my weenie, beanie, small thing
Our love was bright, it started out right
Until you started complaining
Hey, you there, yes, you
With the diminutive, small thing
Is it so important, this I did not know?
Guess I am stuck, just my luck
With this weenie, beanie, small thing
WINDING STAIRS
My time draws nigh
I say evermore good-bye
I depart this life eternally
Take me there atop the hill
Leave flowers, leave love
Leave me perpetually alone
Departing this life
With its rigors and strife
Leaving behind all
Sorrow and grief
Leave me there
Leave me in peace
That life is still so unfair
I’ll journey today the way still unclear
I know I will make my way there
I will journey over there
So tired of hanging around here
I will make my way clear
I will journey over there in the morning
Pushing aside my doubts
Summoning all my courage
Forgetting all my fears
I’ll journey over there in the morning
I will climb all the way
Up the great winding stairs
Not knowing what I will see
Not knowing what I will find
However, knowing what I will do
When at last I get there
EVERY TWIST OF MY HEART
If I am dying, let me die quickly,
Why should I suffer more?
I have fought fierce and hard battles
Settled every score
Too much skirmishes in my life
In this world of too much strife
I remember heartaches, painful and wonderful
With all the unhappiness, sorrow, and grief
So many things they were not nice,
Creating calamity and misery in my existence
When there was love, joy, happiness, and harmony
Mixed with nostalgic passion
For creations and destruction
With the explorative, inquisitive, diverse, and creative
This caused an intrigue
That led to these regretful situations
Where the only thing gained was everything lost
This curiosity and rebellious influences fueled the soul
And sparked the fire that became a blazing, raging inferno
A fitting reminder to those who may
Be careful how you venture into my life
You may just about experience
An exquisite, regretful piece of hell
SCROOGE
I was sitting with my back against a pimento tree, stirring sugar and lime into the water spinning in an old butter pan. Squatting before the fire glowing on the ground was my cousin Mixie; in his hand was a piece of a stick, which he used to turn the sweet potatoes, yellow yams, and some codfish that were all roasting nicely. We were just about to eat when we saw Scrooge coming along the path; we looked at each other and knew we were in for a tale and he was serious about it because he believed everything he said.
“Cousin Laurie, Cousin Mixie, evening.” He plucked a cocoa leaf from a cocoa tree, reached in, took potatoes, yams, and codfish, which he placed on the leaf and started to eat. Between mouthfuls and blowing the food to cool, he guffawed. “Week before last, I went to the field with my father. He hanged his gourd from a tree, and we came away and forgot it there.” Now his father worked a plot of land way back in the badlands.
He carried his gourd with water. Gourd, also called calabash or packie, is a big nut from a tree with a hard shell. It is reaped, dried, and a hole is made in the top. The white stuff from the inside is removed through this hole. It is washed, filled with water, and a cork is placed in the hole; this keeps the water relatively cool. This was the refrigerator of people not so long ago; so were clay jars. Farmers took these gourds to their fields with their drinking water, the handle made from wicker woven around it.
Scrooge continued. “Yesterday, my father asked me to go for the gourd, and man! When I got there, the duck ants and fire ants them eat off the entire gourd. All that was hanging from the tree was the water. I took it down, but it was hanging so long, I think it dead, cousin, so I dig a hole and buried it, it not even wet the ground. Do you think the water cried before it died, cousin?”
Our hearts moved, the tears welled in our eyes, and we mourned for Scrooge, the gourd, and the water.
SCROOGE AND FAMILY
Scrooge said his father planted a corn tree, which bore ten ears of corn. His father cut the tree down and sawed it into pieces of lumber. When his father measured and counted it, there were one hundred ten-foot pieces of board.
His father also planted a red pea; it grew into a huge tree and bore fruit like token. He hired fifteen workers to pick the peas. They climbed the tree and picked peas for two weeks but had to stop because they were tired.
He had a granduncle who had a farm. He planted Irish potatoes and had a big pig named Iris. He missed Iris for a couple of days. When he found the pig, it had burrowed into an Irish potato and had thirteen piglets inside.
His grandfather raced horses; he had this filly named Bright Eyes. One day, Bright Eyes was racing at a famous racetrack when she pulled up suddenly and stopped along the way. She gave birth to a foal then rejoined the race. Bright Eyes came in first and the foal second.
His father was coming home from a wake one night. While walking along a lonely track through the woods, he heard a rolling calf (a rolling calf is fabled ghost that walks at nights dragging a big chain duppy) snoring fast asleep. He approached it quietly, chopped it up, and took it home for dinner.
ALL POSSIBLE THINGS
Do not remember how you got here
You do not want to get back from where you came.
Getting here was intense, and there is no way you will ever be the same.
Character and ambition teach us to go forward.
Forward ever, backward never.
Success comes from remembering our mistakes,
Where they are buried, visiting their cemetery, and building on their graves.
Knowledge is power; share and encourage sacrifices,
Never drop the first ball or miss the first chance.
History has taught us that
The way things are is not necessarily the way it will
always be.
Positive outlook and actions should improve our way of life
And for those that surround us for whom we care.
Eliminate ethnic division, promote equality,
Build each other, and motivate them to stand up for their rights
Works toward improvements dictate the future.
Keep a dedicated ear tuned to the inspiration resonating from deep inside.
Conjure your dreams and keep it alive.
; The start of the women’s suffrage movement
was monumental
It unraveled mysteries along the way.
It will eventually lead to world domination.
Remember, if one woman is strong enough
To turn the world upside down and not all the men
Can get it right side up lends truth to the words.
To enter a race with a woman is to lose.
If you are not in the driver’s seat,
Lend your set of senses from the observer’s side
Hope that they detect something that she missed,
It will give you a feeling of importance in your new supporting role.
TRANQUILITY GARDEN
Surrounded by lush vegetation
Commandeered by tall stately palms
A meandering river trickles lazily by
Lapping at the smooth rocks resting
Gently at its bottom, caressing, kissing then
Polishing each one until they are smooth and shiny
The love gently received reflects gratefully
From their smiling rounded surface
The river curtsies as it expands
To the sandy shore to say, welcome
Then continue to the laughing waterfall
There to show majestic beauty as it takes a dive
Change its color to a fluffy white
With offsets of fine foamy spray
The river gods murmur and gurgle
As they watch its descent from the confines
Of the mesmerizing, brightly painted
Convex rainbow hanging there close
Within the aquamarine pool at the base
Listen, hear its inviting, welcoming call
Bring with you a ball, come play with me
Let us frolic, have some fun
There is a radiant, brightly shining sun
I’ll reward you with a deep tan when you are done
Do not just stand there, please hurry, please come.
BOREDOM
As I sit here on my stool
There is a feeling of sorrow
Engulfing, sweeping over me
I want to do something, anything
Maybe good, maybe bad
Whatever it may be
I’ve made it this far dreaming
Murmuring, humming the same
Old tired song for way too long
But alas, I sit here waiting
Thinking about that big bang
My special someone should be by my side
Just hoping tonight, she will be bold
Renewed energy found, stop acting old
Let’s put the top down and roll out tonight?
Just my luck she’s cold, a boring soul
My will says “Come on, start the engine
Let us hit the town, go shake a leg”
I’m in that mood to go paint it red
But I think tonight I do nothing
Might as well paint my bed!
RICH MAN POOR MAN
My nephew was spending time with me when he asked, “Uncle, how Mr. Goodie got so rich, heard he was a farmer?” “Well,” I said, “some people get rich by hard work using their hands. Others by using their brains.” He insisted, “Tell me about brains, uncle.” So I told him the following old tale.
He was rich and lived atop the great, big hill in splendor and style; he looked down and up at the world around him. He felt invincible, was vain, and was filled with vanity.
The poor farmer lived in a valley way down below the hill, obscured; he kept losing his crops, and times had become very hard. He had a petite wife and the most beautiful daughter; he could not bear to see them go hungry. He sat and scratched his head as he looked up the hill at the gleaming white castle there in the distance. He willed himself, summoned up the courage, and plodded up the hill to the mansion.
There the rich man greeted him. After greetings and pleasantries, the farmer told him that a nobleman from the east was coming to look over his daughter with a view of marriage; he wanted to borrow a knife and a fork. The following morning, the farmer was back at the rich man’s door; there he presented him with his knife and fork along with a smaller pair. He told him his knife and fork had babies during the night. The rich man beamed with delight.
It was not long before the farmer was at the rich man’s door. He again told him the similar story, but this time it was a knight from the west; he got the dinnerware and left. The following morning, he presented them to the rich man, again with a smaller pair stating that they had babies in the night. Soon after, the farmer went back and told the rich man that a prince from the north was coming to look over his daughter. This time he wanted to borrow his golden candlesticks. The rich man quipped, “So many men and she is still not taken, must be some particular lady you got there.” Anyway, he lent them to him gladly.
The following morning, he was at the rich man’s door and told him that the golden candlesticks died during the night. The rich man was mad as hell and took the farmer to court. After listening to the case, the judge told the rich man, “If you believed that the knife and fork had babies, then how could you not believe that the candlesticks died?”
INTRICATE HEART
Give me that scarred heart, let me take it apart
A skilled heart mechanic that I am, for sure
Check these chambers one through four
Inside so many things all there stored
Read the writing on the delicate walls
It tells every time there was a desperate call
All the forlorn affairs large and small
And the happy times playing with dolls
Those small ones your parents bought
The big ones that gave trouble that you sought
Yes, you will see happiness and pain
And all those who ended up getting blamed
The happy times in the security of family
The various hard lessons that life taught
Those mistakes tied tightly in a bundle
Are at the rear, search hard, find them there
The private things were never talked about
They are there strewn all over
In several bags large and stout
Look! How many times it has been pierced
Too many, too much, makes you want to jump
All around and shout stupid, stupid
Permanent fool, what did you learn in school
You played a part right from the start
Now you have messed up a perfectly good heart
So many things inside this intricate heart
Lord knows I do not know where to start
LEGACY OF DECEIT
We inherited our legacy of deceit
And it ended our innocence a long time ago.
Now we have nothing but wasted time on our hands.
We took the long road back in the heat of the sun.
We could have ridden the moon
But it was a cold stormy night,
There was no light in the sky
As thunder shattered its vast stillness
We could have waited for the sun to rise
As we listened to whispers from heaven
For you to rise you must die,
For you to shine you must rise.
The cry of the wild bringing tales
From a faraway land;
Messages from the mountain
Soft whisper from a quiet heart;
From the darkness and into the light
All those tales from the wildwoods;
From the cradl
e to the cross,
From the grave to the mysterious heavens;
We listen to distant voices
Speaking from deep within
Heard the whisper that rose to a scream,
We overcame tragedy with triumph;
If we can smile after nightmares,
Dreams of moments like this we will remember.
Our traumatized mind will dwell on
Tears and joys of love
The smiles that come after the teardrops stop;
Reflections of the heart
Where elusive seasonal beauty lies.
UNDER THE BIG TREE
Under the big tree stories come alive;
As men tell narratives of their lives;
Amid loud, boisterous laughter;
Around the table four men play dominoes;
Heated words escaping them as they point to their dominoes;
Various cards in their hand;
Someone made a bad play, maybe this one;
Couple of yards away there are children playing;
Having fun in the discolored sand;
In the corner the grill is smoking;
There is also meat in the big frying pan.
The sound system named rockers vibration.
Is playing, the disc jockey slave is chatting and bouncing.
With drinks in hand the men gather around, loving the sound;
And they are all around dancing, watch how them skanking;
To the blaring reggae beat played by the don.
For the one goosie this is his party;
