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POEMS Storyteller

That Hour

I am doing a jig at the edge of a precipice

The sound of the waves crashing against the rocks is the melody I dance to

The moon shimmered across the ocean like lights from a disco ball

The wind hummed like a base steeldrum

Clouds cast shadows over the stones, the grass, the trees, the sand

The weeping willow leaves whistled in the breeze

Still are the birds, the animals, the people

It is that hour, that hour right before conscious death

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Storyteller

Ahhhh yes, nice amd smooth for the eveing relax

Categories
POEMS Storyteller

Under The Purple Sky

Under The Purple Sky

Let us play hide and seek
Under the purple and silver Kentucky sky
In the fields next to where Thoroughbred gallop
Where bluegrass music gives the wind melody
And the voices of children carries over the rolling hills
Let us dance around the Saviaberry trees
Until the moon is high in the sky
Then catch fireflies and put them in jars
Sit and watch them light up the grass
Let us lay on the hilltop and watch the shooting stars
And dream of places where kids just like us laugh under the blinking sky

Categories
POEMS Storyteller

River Days

Down by the river
Where the water trickles through the shiny rocks
I heard them singing
They voices echoing through the Nutmeg plantation
Floated with the wind
Up the hillside
And through the banana cove
I heard the melody
Now enhanced by a loud slapping noise
The wind became still
And I hear the river.
Rushing through the rocks
I followed the sound
Through the rows of banana plants
Parting the sea of big green leaves
Down the mud path
Slipping and sliding on the loose dirt
Out of the forest
On the river bank
Women and children
labouring our mounds of wet cloths
Slapping them against the rock
The rhythm like an old time spiritual
Some of the women were humming
One woman singing
A verse of hard living

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Pics with verse Storyteller

Wait for the storm

Wait for the storm

The best days are the days when you lay in bed, listening, waiting. Someone yells at a child in the village, birds fly overhead, a car backfires on the highway, loud music from somewhere. Then you hear it, the first thunder, it rumbled across the sky sounding like a hungry old man’s stomach. Then you hear the wind, whistling through the tropical trees, mangoes fell out of the trees, a small hard object bounces off the window paine. Someone running outside, trying to get home before the downpour. And then it happens, the faint sound of a drizzle hitting the galvanize roof, thunder roars, the wind picks up. Darkness covers the village as the gray skies rolls in. The rain is heavy now, pounding off the galvanize roof. Oh that sweet melody, soothing, comforting. You want to stay away to hear it, lose yourself in the rhythm. But your eye lids becomes heavy, and you slowly drift off, the sound of the rain hitting the roof fades and you fall into a dream were you are walking in the warm tropical downpour.

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Stories Storyteller

Mama Melody

Sometimes at night we could hear she, crying, crying crying. At times others would join she, and man, they could make some real noise, wailing like de wind through de Bambo on de hill behind de prison. She walk by me window, I could hear she deep angry breaths, de ‘oman was real sad,. Me granny came into de room with that mischevious smile on she face. “You hear dat,” she said, That is de Mama Mel…ody, she did dead while she still pregnant, dats why she out dey crying all de damn time,” The old ‘oman din say nutton else, she just got up and left de room. I laid there listening to the crying. When I was older and breave enouff to go outside when I heard the Mama Melody crying. I snuck round de house, me heart beating for so. The some animal ran cross me foot, I almost jump out me skin. I heard de crying in the bushes ahead of me. I crept up to the bushes and shook it, five cats jumped out at me. Damn ole ‘oman, she had me fraid all dem years.
Categories
Stories Storyteller

Mama Melody

Sometimes at night we could hear she, crying, crying crying. At times others would join she, and man, they could make some real noise, wailing like de wind through de Bambo on de hill behind de prison. She walk by me window, I could hear she deep angry breaths, de ‘oman was real sad,. Me granny came into de room with that mischevious smile on she face. “You hear dat,” she said, That is de Mama Melody, she did dead while she still pregnant, dats why she out dey crying all de damn time,” The old ‘oman din say nutton else, she just got up and left de room. I laid there listening to the crying. When I was older and breave enouff to go outside when I heard the Mama Melody crying. I snuck round de house, me heart beating for so. The some animal ran cross me foot, I almost jump out me skin. I heard de crying in the bushes ahead of me. I crept up to the bushes and shook it, five cats jumped out at me. Damn ole ‘oman, she had me fraid all dem years.