She Said We's Just Old Folks

She'd get all cleaned up
smellin good, then
rinsed the snuff from her mouth, brushed her teeth,
sprayed Tabu down her bossom.
He'd start hangin all over her,
sloppin those lips on her face.
She'd waited all day to go out
there was no way in...
that she'd let this change anything.
She pulled away hard from his clutches
Hee! Hee! Hee!...she'd say.
He'd light a Camel and smile a bit wry.
Yeh Baby..you know what I like.
We'll catch this later.
They'd come home,
he'd fall into bed in a stupor.
She'd pull out the couch in the living room.
Years later, I remember Mammy saying how
it had been so many years since
they had done the deed, just old.
They were married when she was fourteen
or was it fifteen.
She was tired now and anyway,
Honey, blood and alcohol, it don't mix.

SadieLu/2011

One Of Lue's Girls

Back hill folk,
my Momma called em.
Quiet, observant, knew how to use everything.
Damned good listeners, maybe.
Didn't say anything to you, but
heard everything you said.

She hated coveralls cuz that is all
they wore, worn out in those places
where they rubbed the most.

If they can't look you in the eye
don't waste your time talkin to them she'd say.
Boy, when Mama would look you in the eye..
you'd squirm.

Sometimes those men folk wanted to hug you too long.
Well, stay away from that. That was headin for trouble.
You was one of Lue's girls.

Mama's been gone for a while now.
The outside world has squeezed in a bit too tight
like those hugs you tried to stay away from.
Everyone wears those coveralls...just wish
they covered more than they do, cuz,
they still wear open where they have rubbed the wrong way.

I get the impression someone's been listening,
heard everything you ever thought of
and is gonna use it to their advantage.

Sweet, kind, tender, pure honesty...
I think might be listening, waiting to look you in the eye...
don't waste your time talkin to them if'n they don't...
Yep, one of Lue's...

SadieLu/2011

Burial Cloths

One of those moments of
vulnerable lesions exposed.
I don't know why I do that
trusting blind thoughts
of virtual cognition.
I believe, I am the stranger
though I would allow
perception otherwise.
Some things are better
off unsaid and perhaps
left to return to dust.

SadieLu 2011

It Don't Do No Good

She took care of old folk,
mainly old men whose wives were gone.
Hard workers they were in their day.
I speck that's why she stooped to that
Or maybe it was cuz she didn't finish school.
Back in the hills times were hard.
She didn't speak much about anything
'cept her Mom who was pretty sick.
There wasn't much of anything she couldn't do if
it required just country common sense.
That made her sense feel good.
She had a chance to go live with some rich relatives
the Clarks. You can still see their name rolling around on those spools of thread. It's all in who you know, I guess, but Grandma Disney
couldn't let her go.
A child grows a perception from a thought. She did the best she could
not bein able to read. I don't think you need to be able to read to
grow pain, resentment and futility, misunderstanding, thoughts, yes, she grew that.
Those old men loved her, cuz she could cook, made their house smell
like they was livin, still alive. She said more than once, it don't do no good to be who you're not. I think she loved takin care of old folk.

SadieLu/2011

you always take us somewhere, always in the hearts we go right there along with you. i am such a fan.

I say the same of you...your kind encouragement..makes my day...if you could only know. My Mother would appreciate the love that is shown.

You Can Sing anything

There's no lesson to the story
when the Blues jump that train.
Her eyes a' cryin while
that red dress cuts a vein.

If only I could tell you
how many times I've sung
on the back steps where the alley
met a cold hearted tongue.

Man, seems can't take how
this lonely feels so dead
but a strut and a riff
starts to clear a muddy head.

Yeh, I'll jump that train
ol' Blues Line Express
an try to keep from rippin ...
my favorite new red dress.

Yeh, Baby...just a story, ya think?

SadieLu/2011

The cob-webs, swaying in gentle tremor..
as my screen illuminates behind their frantic dance.
Years past by my sitting here, waiting, reading, aging.
Through my magnified stares, I read in self trance.
Your words I must savor,,,consume,,digest and amuse.
Please write some more, now tonight. Let me have a glance.
The many months,,,passing with no poems posted, no writes.
This is so vital, so fulfilling to my soul.
I'm addicted to your print,they just turn-on all my emotional lights
Eating here in front of my screen, my porta-potty at my side.
Feed to me your so gentle words, as I wait like a mouse for cheese.
You fill my mind, my heart, all of that which my body so needs.
It is you my lady of wisdom and word, show yourself Sadie, please.

I just love your art . . . it's whimsical, thought provoking and just plain good!!

Terry, I am just a woman, breathing the way I do...You are kind. I am happy you can enjoy these humble thoughts. It is not easy to live in the space you do...I traveled only briefly with my husband..just enough to have a new compassion for his sacrifice...I think that is what each of us do..find a resting place to welcome..when we can.

I think we who pen our hearts have satisfaction in each others art..an appreciation, deeply soul...love it when you stop by...

Denial Is A Pink Rose

I used to say,
I got the best of my Dad,
my Mom, totally ignoring
that there could have been
maybe something else.
Oh, such denial plagues me
that I find it difficult to claim"the worst",
much less focus mention of it.

Mom said I had beautiful hands,
the way I used them to rub her sore legs
and feet or the way I held hers
when I rubbed lotion on her.
What beauty seen was learned
from watching how she would use her hands
when she was loving what she did.
She could be so gentle and graceful
as she mixed flour to make biscuits
or when she would brush back
a wisp of hair from my Dad's forehead.
I remember her making spit curls
and pinning them with Bobbi pins.
She crocheted and embroidered.
We would laugh how you had
to stick your tongue out
just right or the stitches wouldn't look good.
These thoughts and memories I claim as mine.

As sure as I avoid the worst,
I have not forgotten. My tendency is to keep
the pain covered, because it is pain.
Definitely there is more than enough of that.
It is not worth keeping the ashes
in a coffee can to bring out
when relatives come to visit
at the mention of memories.
It is not needful to follow as a disclaimer
to remind each other, with the good
pain was caused as well.
She said I had beautiful hands,
She encouraged me to sing,
to write and do what I had to do.
She loved pink roses.
I got the best...of both.

SadieLu/2011

Your poems paint so many vivid pictures, upon the canvas of my mind.....

it is a canvas we share, stroked in brush, carved with knife and layered with hues from a palette unbeknownst in passion..thank you

Road Trip

I loved to listen
to my parents talk
when the hum of the road
had mesmerized
us kids to quiet,
sleep or that time
we would pretend,
so we could listen.
Their hushed tones
begging intimacy
where it felt as though
no one mattered
but the two of them.
For me, I appreciated
this peek into
them that would keep
them in tune as their
health issues would inevitably
challenge presence in latter years.
In the still, dark, enclosed space
that embraced them, yes,
so comforting to be lulled
asleep knowing we were all together.

SadieLu/2011

Your pen, like a brush, always paints such beautiful pictures in my mind.

It has been so wonderful to walk this path with you. Growing, expanding ever-outward, reaching new heights, truly I am better for it.

Do you not realize, we cannot breathe without each other? Blessings in kind...I always look for you to see where your heart is flying. Such a kind man you are, Kevin.

Pockets

The pocket such a wondrous hold.
Filled with treasures secrets told.

About the little man who places
Trinkets found in his small spaces.

Change and money, worms, a screw,
Piece of string for his shoe.

"You never know when you might need
That special something, a thoughtful deed.

Soon life grows him in his hands.
Pockets change expands, expands.

For his watch where time is meant
To fill his days, life is spent.

Being grown, now empty pockets.
A child no more, a man, he knows it.

Misses something, simpler life.
Growing up perhaps, no strife.

And then his little child reveals,
As he is. His life is sealed

Treasure held by growing, fisted
From his pocket, filled and twisted.

Overwhelming joy abounds.
Love full circle. A man's heart found.

SadieLu 2008

Such a beautiful garden,, filled with soul and heart
serendiptiy fills the air

I love to share this with you...It is not beautiful without you.