Repost request for the Southern gentlemen who still say Mam!
She recalls the silly, insidious jerk
The nuance of pleasure from a mysterious quirk
Her eyes that penetrate way across the room
Smiles half-mooned with a passionate zoom
Hair all a mess with blonde springing curls
Draping around eyes of this sensitive girl
Pulled to the sight toward a man in the shadow
All trussed in a ponytail, his mane in an ebb flow
Looks like a wolf...perish the thought
"Me, am I Scarlette?" Dressed out and fraught!
Knees shake to rattle...tremors to nerves
Eyes bold and frightened...dancing on curves
Hands reach...extend...floating the swirl
Taffeta cinched on the bust of this girl
Presenting the orbs of porcelain globes
Seduced eyes of shadows beginning their probe
Floats of two bodies graceful through crowds
Clutching hands weaving as forms take a bow
This beauty to all and a stranger to some
Take up this waltz as rumors from tongues
Chatter the beat as pulses festoon
The character of dance and this free flowing room
These two ever friends swirl smiles with their feet
Swinging and turning to a waltz made of heat
Stars seem to drift on fragrant bouquets
For dances with Belles and Rebels that day
The hoop skirts of lace and taffeta bows
Jasmine in hair that gently repose
The gray of a uniform worn by her Johnny
The eyes of his lady...his bonnie blue Bonnie
He takes in her smile...her nose like a pixie
The waltzes of yesterday...bygones of Dixie
I can almost smell the lemony scent of Magnolia brought by a gentle breeze as I rock on the porch, Julip in hand listening to the field hands singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." Ah yes...by gone days.
And what a repost it is, Susan. Sadly being polite and saying man is gone with the wind (pun intended). But don't dare say man to Barbara Boxer or she will embarrass you on national television.
Reviewed by Peter Schlosser (Reader)
Reviewed on November 10, 2009
My grandmother was a bit of a Southern Belle havng grown up in Kentucky then to DC then to Florida. Happiest woman I ever knew. A true southerner through and through. She died last year 3 weeks shy of 98 years of age. After my grandfather passed away, she dated his ex-golf partner. He had grown up in Tampa and was the oldest living member of the Florida Bar Association at the time as he was an attorney. They were so cute together and a real throw-back to another day and age. They really graced eachother in the old-fashioned southern custom and it was so interesting to watch. Like history in motion. Great poem.
Yankee Doodle Daddy is a historical Appalachian Family Saga. The story follows a mother's reckoning as she struggles to survive and keep her four daughters alive.
Exploring the impact of literary icon Flannery O'Connor's noted legacy on the cultural realities of modern-day America, the world, and a certain author.
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Ron
I can almost smell the lemony scent of Magnolia brought by a gentle breeze as I rock on the porch, Julip in hand listening to the field hands singing "Swing Low, Sweet Chariot." Ah yes...by gone days.
~W~
(((HUGS))) and love, Karla.