Here are some writes of wonferful memories when I opened a few art galleries there in New Orleans. This is how I remember her.
~SKdeV~
The Big Easy
Walking in the French Quarter with colors all in bloom
Pigeons fighting long legged children vying for their room
Dodging jugglars hoops and flips in precisioned Rockette fashion
Look at all the clowns in paint festooned up and dashing
Saxaphones droning out the tunes of blues soft whispers
Street people crouch along muttering some strange vespar
Then there are the Tarot folks telling all life's secrets
Giving guests a birthday treat ...conquering deep confessions
Portraits done as horses wait with carriages all in blooms
Smiles in pink and sugared cheeks can make the rhythm zoom
Music sounds of the Big Easy festive all year through
Then me, alone.... just searching for a visual to find you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
An Easy Rain
Written as the windows were raised to the outside of the Garden District late one evening. New Orleans rains come with the echo of a trombone or trumpet to give those listening a great "New Orleans moment".
I heard the sound of e_a_s_y
Raindrops as they fell
In liquid kisses... gentle
This tender nature's bell
There's something so extravagant
In simple drops of rain
Erasing stressful tightness
In a world half gone insane
It sets our pace to e-a-s-y
Then comforts TIME just when
The news screams out with ugly
Dismembered frames of pain
Rain is nature's way of a massage
For the times when life gets bold
When some are scared and hungry
Some orphaned and sleep cold
Rain is nature's kind caress
Her kiss to let us know
No matter what's uncomfortable
For the moment let it go!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A Blossom Fell
This was written on my day off, enjoying the outside music at the Gazebo Cafe during the Jazz Festival. It was a magic Sunday.
--Susan*
Sitting here on Decater Street
Listening to the Blues
Sipping down Jambalaya Juice
Trying to catch a groove
Magic blooms in colors here
People exuding their auras
Hiding every ounce of tears
For a fading heart_ what horror!
Red beans and rice
Strangers...nice
Dogs dining in with the guests
Frosted drinks, a Hurricane
All New Orleans best
This mystery city competes today
With a living Hell
Placing a beat back into a heart
Just where a blossom fell
Its magic what a city can do
To a broken heart
With music and color and laughter
It brings together what's been ripping apart
The soul of a woman in sufferage
Who loves laughing as well as the Blues
Who sits with the smile of an angel
While walking in others' shoes
This city can make into miracles
The oozing of hearts torn to Hell
Color in the hole that is missing
Just where a blossom fell.
Each poem stands out on its own merit; each evokes N'Awlins the way it was (and pray will be again). Thank you for such beautiful, poignant memories in verse: definately a keeper, and I wish I'd written these.
Each poem is so visual and a feast for all the senses. Beyond that they conjure an atmosphere that is both rare and tantalising, that is electric with expectation and experience. Blessed are the eyes that have seen these things and whose mind has captured them in word and art. I have never set foot on American soil, but I have now been privileged to be a part of this. TY Kate xx
Very atmospheric events caught well in your writing. The heartbeat of music still beats loudly in New Orleans - birthplace of jazz?? Was it not a New Orleans band that scored a first ever million seller in 1917??
Susan you gave us a sumptious feast this Sunday morning! A grouping that shows your superb grasp of poetry! Your imagery is flawless! thanks for sharing!
Reviewed by ~ Holly Harbridge (Reader)
Reviewed on February 18, 2007
Excellent Susan! Enjoyed immensely! God Bless, Holly
this trilogy offers to your readers, a broad spectrum of insight and perspective into the New Orleans spirit and leaves us with a hunger to experience its festivity and travail ...
Reviewed by Michael Mathieu (Reader)
Reviewed on February 18, 2007
A ride on the tracks from end to end a wonderful thing,Always nice
to visit and food is great,A wonderful tribute to the Big Easy < <
Michael
I've spent lots of time in the Big Easy over the years, and your poems describe her well. And now, I've spent lots of time there after Katrina, and my heart cries for her. I truly hope one day she will be the Big Easy again.
a very vibrant tribute to a special city in the hearts of many. you've got all the noises, colors, costumes, aromas, sights, music, etc. there. thanks for sharing this one.
Your lazy sweet and graphic words kindle bittersweet memories for anyone who has spent as much as one hour in New Orleans. Each of your works spins the Crescnt City's tale of good living deeply and well... in Old New Orleans. Will it ever be the same? Let's hope and work to that end. It is THE DIFFERENT CITY in our country.
This is excellent writing by one who can and does write superior poetry. - Bill
All three poems written with such colour and brightbness that my heart longs to witness these sights and sounds and scents that you so eloquently describe...ahhhh maybe one day.
Robin Ouzman Hislop's poetry is certainly in dialogue with some of the key architects of the 'poetics of indeterminacy' – both the Modernist strands represented by the likes of Beckett and Stein, and the postmodernist strands represented, initially,
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Enter the pages of diaspora in quiet introspection. Bathe your thoughts with subtle humor; synchronize your spirit-sense with history-in-heat; fall headlong with eyes wide open into
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(((HUGS))) and much love, your friend in Tx., Karen Lynn. :(
Each poem stands out on its own merit; each evokes N'Awlins the way it was (and pray will be again). Thank you for such beautiful, poignant memories in verse: definately a keeper, and I wish I'd written these.
(((HUGS))) and love, karla.
Well done
Allen
Regards
Dai
Ron
Love Tinka
to visit and food is great,A wonderful tribute to the Big Easy < <
Michael
I have never been, but now wonder why.
A place steeped in history like this must really get the juices flowing.
This is excellent writing by one who can and does write superior poetry. - Bill
Xxx dove
Fee