porch song
she is all legs and low whistles,
rockin’ back and forth on a porch
owned by the banker man,
but held together by
georgia sunshine,
and bare feet
her name is not important,
but old as dandelions, the same ones
that grow back year after year,
certain as sundays and the mailman,
and although she can spell it just fine,
she’ll still answer to a holler by boys called
bill, jeff and pete
yes, she is a treat;
eyes like salad and eggshell cheeks,
with a figure blown from a slim harmonica,
she moves like a hymn on this dog day afternoon,
wishing she could switch the dirt
her grandmother rested under
for paris, arkansas
or any place erased of
preachers fat with fried chicken
and ecclesiastes,
lipton lemonade
&
lead windowsills,
filled
with baked apple pies
oh please
(she sings)
don’t
let me die
predictable
but the blind moon reminds her of
grandpa comfort,
the one that held
love and peppermints
in his pocket,
and quietly,
the banker’s porch
swallows her back
until only the crickets
are left to sing
her song
Author notes
Gold
Written April 1st, 2006
A contest entry
- Have you ever... by Age of Rain.
1300 points, ended July 31, 2008, 57 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest - While I'm away... by Aussie Gypsy.
3500 points, ended June 5, 27 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 33 of 33
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this has such a cool flow
good work
keep it up
kmp -
Oh I have no idea what to say to this because this just blew everyone out of the water. Best to you in the contest
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Ye Gods, woman ...
this is brilliant. I'm nonplussed and speechless - and don't snicker.
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I would never snicker at you!
(snickers quietly in a remote corner )
Thank you precious...you are as always too kind to my little bits of posey.
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Brilliant. The background was rather bright, but I actually liked this as well. Powerful imagery. Everything about this is great.
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You have so many unique images in here! I am astounded by how original and unique itis; it is rare to read something that sounds as completely new as this. "Don't let me die predictable" is really an excellent series of lines. Thank you so much for entering my contest!
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Man, this is crazy, lol. It's been a while since I've found a writer that I can never give criticism on. I would feel out of place doing so anyway because you're a poet, I still have yet to reach there. But anyhoo, all of your writes are so original. I have not found one thing that I've heard before, or read somewhere, or anything like that at all. And each poem has a distinct voice in which keeps the readers reading. I also loved the thought of not wanting to die predictable. Clever clever
Jeanette*~
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That's my new motto... "Don't let me die predictable."
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Absolutely stunning. Have you sent it out for publishing? It really should be published. Almost every line made me envious. Check my add-a-line with links to publishers and submit it a few places. Thank you so much for entering my contest.
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This is an amazing write. I love the imagery throughout. I have decided to use a part of this and I am so honored that you have allowed me the privelage...
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Again, it is me that is honored that you wish to use this piece. She is one of my favorite ones as she is truly a part of me that I keep hidden...usually UNDER the porch!
Again, thank you...
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great work! thanks for entering!
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This is an incredible poem. Dammit, all these entries comin' in, making it hard for me to judge the contest! Excellent writing...I love it, I really do. What else can I say?
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Someday I wanna carry peppermints in my pocket.
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"yes, she is a treat;
eyes like salad and eggshell cheeks,
with a figure blown from a slim harmonica,
she moves like a hymn on this dog day afternoon,
wishing she could switch the dirt
her grandmother rested under..."
This has the grandeur of solitude about it, Darcy...a life of quiet desperation, in a sense...it makes us pause & ponder our own existence, our own failed dreams & grand successes...there are many layers that require us to unveil our own thoughts in perspective...great imagery & verbiage, grand flow...Congratulations on the gold, my Friend...a beautiful entry, indeed...Be well, Poet...
Wanda
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WAY TO GO CHICKY!
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If this doesn't bring back memories, nothing will. Brilliant.
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this is merciless beauty. a song i tried to sing and failed.
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Your words tell the story of days diminished by gentrification. Where are those front porches in the new housing developments? Billions of condos built with no front porch!
My grandparents had a swing on their front porch. I can all too well remember sitting there, rocking back and forth, watching the motion picture world pass by. I am in this places with you. You have transcended me with your words. There is a serenity here, unmatched by anything I have witnessed presently. When my kids were young, I would sit on my front porch after they were bathed and tucked in. I love this Darcy. From this melancholy moment is a rose bursting through the concrete. Brilliant! The best to you in this challenge.
Much Love,
Your Sis',
Renee
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Exquisite....
but the blind moon reminds her of
grandpa comfort,
the one that held
love and peppermints
in his pocket
It amazes me how the human mind could come up with such associations....bittersweet -
Well, you always shine no matter where you are...
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GREAT write.
i absolutly am in love with the
"oh please
(she sings)
don’t
let me die
predictable"
part
love, absolute love
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I know! I miss those days too...Baskin Robbins and jelly shoes...lol. Amazin' how far we've come from home, eh?
Oh, and pray, continue to feed my ego...you know how much you wanna worship the quicksand I sink upon!
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Okay, well, you know how I hate to feed your ego... but I can't fucking help it here. lol. Not only was the title friggin' brilliant, but those two opening lines reminded me of eating icecream on my front porch with bandaids on my knees. Totally nostalgic. I was going to enter this contest, but not now! sheesh. I think I hate you....
more. -
Thanks for the insight, m'dear...changed it a bit. Hope you like...
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this is the sultriest thing under the big bright yellow sun, nice....
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Fantastic. So good it hurts
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I loved the flow here - "bill, jeff and pete
yes, she is a treat;
eyes like salad and eggshell cheeks,"
Sweet.
My favorite part was "or any place erased of
preachers fat with fried chicken
and ecclesiastes,
lipton lemonade
&
lead windowsills,
filled
with baked apple pies"
just because, perhaps, I adore the word "ecclesiastes" as well as the way you paired up such home-grown ideas to make something very unique.
MUAH.
~H. -
until only the crickets
are left to sing
her song
(/\)0(/\) 7(-)15 15 |=U(|<1(\)6 (\)U75 (-)0(/\) |)0 U |)0 7(-)15 5(-)17...
Figure it out. This made me shudder, and I know it's not from the cold wind blowing through my window (oh my god my window is open!!!!!
)
this is so sad, so bloody sad, it makes me think of my friend Mike, if he were a girl living in the country. This sounds like his soul, it sounds like the song the walls of his god-awful home sing. Brilliant, so bloody good. -
hey, what about taking out that "a" here
"she is all legs and A whistle," that way "a" isn't repeated in the second line where it is needed much more.
This poem reminds me of what type of poet I'd like to be. Your works are consistently good. And improving isn't necessary yet it still occurs. You have far much more talent than most people and I do hope you will compile some poetry books in the future.
"figure blown from a slim harmonica," your descriptions are unique and amazing how well they flow together in the end. I love everything about this piece.
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I've been gone from the site quite a while. Here I come back and the first poem I read is yours. This is outstanding. Of course I wouldn't expect anything less. Wonderful write. Last stanza is excellent.
~Dee -
Sounds like Nina Simone on a sultry day, hot, dizzy and fans being wafted on sunburnt cheeks.. and some pinkgin fizz..
and toes tapping to a sassy song on the floorboards..
I am so intoxicated by this piece Darcy.. it's a lovely read..
just lovely
~GILL~x -
Jesus my life is crippled but God your poetry is good. So good I feel bad about not sending you the editations I made on your "Other projects." I finally finished reading after all the false promises and I have to say well done. To regard the poem I have to say well done as well, a good sense of imagery but with a dab of feeling to it.
Anyways I got the message from Kevin about editing all old poetry on the site, don't know if he's trying to be supreme master or helpful, don't know if it really matters when you're rolling in green dollar bills, I guess everything gets hazy, obtrusive, and mean at that point.
I've had trouble writing as of late but its starting to come back to me, and there is a feel of joy in the air. I can sit down at a keyboard now and actually think of an idea, where it used to be pointless.
I always considered you a good friend on the site and one of the few who hasn't left yet so I hope to hear from you,
Azri-el
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