All them boys and girls left soon as they could.
Gone to places where’s jobs and a life o’ they own.
You see ’em comin back to visit, shinin’ like a new car,
lookin like a landlord or some kinda preacher.
Then one summer there comes one o’ them girls,
Ruth – after her grandmother, an she’s lookin
like some real woman now with a baby in her arms.
That baby was called Edward, don’t know who it’s after.
It was a tiny thing an sickly an he died at the end of summer.
Well Ruth left not long after the funeral
an nobody seen or heard from her for five, six years.
Then one day she come in on the bus, the one come
down from Chicago ever week.
An one thing I noticed bout that girl, aside from her flashin clothes
an gold hair, bright shining teeth
-her eyes look blank as a old shack at the end o’ the road.
Goin’ To The City
25 Thursday Apr 2013
Posted poems
in
Wow. Pretty powerful stuff right there. You almost sounded like an old southern black woman sittin in her rocker talkin to her gran babies about the sadness in life. Loved the imagery. Really powerful writing. Nice 🙂
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Thank you t.dot. i wrote this after listening to some readings by a Southern poet, Atsuro Riley. Many of my relatives are Southern by birth/nature and i just let their voices tell this story.
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Do you think you will continue writing this? It felt like it could be the beginning of a really cool manuscript; it makes a reader feel invested in the characters.
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Thank you Lauren. I may see what I can do with this little germ of a story…don’t really think of myself as much of storyteller but perhaps I will give it a go and see what happens.
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I got to the end and slam! It was heading there but still-a punch to the gut. I agree, story. But it could be told through poetry. Who says a story has to be prose?
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Thank you…and thank you for reminding me that not all stories are prose
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