Down on Bayou where mangroves reach
there’s a siren in wild woods
tangled in a bog
Spanish Moss hanging from her head
dead lock dread lock
knock on your knee frock
half hide and half twine
she screeches in a dishrag night
causing men to sweat
she’s mother of earth
belly of soil
she’s a knock up, drag out
chigger on one’s skin
face like a raisin
skin like a woman
breast banging breast bone
voice in a midnight
a fiddle on a griddle
down on Bayou where men ragtag toil
there’s a quiet in a heavy night
where a shanty steeps in mist
not a footfall or a voice call
will give their visits sound
but they pull at her body
like piranha stretches flesh
and she bears her bruises bravely
for boil of mash and root
stewed in pot with bloody branch
to quit another’s hell
she’s a tremor on water
she’s a wail in peepers choir
she’s a demon in deep- dark
and a drudge in mid- day
down on Bayou, she’s a witchy tale
women love to hate her
men love to love her
and no one has ever had her
for she belongs to no one
but nuisances in the night
they feed her and they fill her
reap her chilling cosmic Oh
but only Bayou holds her
when others are all gone
she’s been known to sacrifice
more than she’s ever owned
fear is grown in her garden
when she sings her Acadian song
some say she’s crazy
some say she’s a healer
some say she’s damned good in bed
dead head red head
a riddle in the middle
of black Bayou breath
Author notes
Had this acadian fiddling in my head for ...those cajuns...cousins to the Acadians, have been in my head for days.
In a list
A contest entry
- Art on the Bayou (closes at midnight) by MuddyKing.
400 points, ended April 24, 2007, 9 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 19 of 19
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spalsh
ooooweeee a good splash of hot sauce, this is so perfect and fun to read, i grew up in nola and this one has so much flavour girl! i am so glad i ran across this one here, but it made me homesick for things i did not know i even missed. damn, you're good.
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Oh Rebeka, perhaps you wil wonder that I say I have never been there and yet, somehow, my Muse knew what to write.... believe me...I often do.
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Love this stanza, the imagery is amazing!
"Spanish Moss hanging from her head
dead lock dread lock
knock on your knee frock
half hide and half twine"
Gold Winner without a doubt. Congratulations! Wonderful work here poet! Loved the title and every word. I am blown away the same as Muddy!
Much Love ♥
Renee
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I truly got into this...I am not sure how I got there, but I did...perhaps because I was raised on Dr Hook.
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I love everything about this
meebe as much as the painting itself
damn good fo sho
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ty muddy..I wanted to catch a rhythm...and keep in mind that it was for you...and make sure I was saying what Muse said to say not what I wanted to.
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"- - Hmmm. . ." she says, shaikng in woe. . This was magnificence. . You make familial reverie, float like honey suckle perfume in here, my dear.. Si beau - ainsi, si beau..
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Masee, Whenitefallz, I hung with Cree fiddlers and they loved to play cajun/acadian music..perhaps I went to that palce for this poem to dance its way out.
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this is awesome. this left me feeling very, um, light like floaty. brilliant write.
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aw, ty wolfspiritguide...the color and the scents that fill my head when I think of bayou are msot likely not exact, but I definietly got a sensory affect.
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The reason raisin is wrinkled
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ty for heads up!
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"she’s been known to sacrifice
more than she’s ever owned
fear is grown in her garden
when she sings her Acadian song"
{shudders with trepidation} Dammmnnn, Woman. Ya scairt me....baddd...
What an intense penning this is, my Friend...Even scarier 'cause I lived there for 18 months & I KNOW this isn't merely metaphor...yikes...Good luck in Muddy's contest, Sweetie... 
Wanda
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yer a scairdy cat? Oh, you should come sit around a campfire with me..I tell great ghost stories...lol
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Wow! This is awesome. The imagery is incredible. Terrific writing. Good luck in the contest.
Jeannie
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ty Jeannie...I either have a vivid imagination or an awesome Muse...
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It is different. It has a mystique to it, someone no one knows. Is she a metaphor? I think the meat-lover would make a bad bed-mate, kinda get masticated.
Just a note-in fifth stanza, first line, should be "raisin".
Good poem.
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lol, ty SobMaster. for the head's up as well.
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