Morphological Confetti

2009 Top One Hundred Countdown # 20: Photobooth---The Half-Happy Couple , a photo by mrwaterslide on Flickr. 20 minute poem I wrote for photo: One Mo' Payment I almost got enough to call this woman my wife What I mean is, I’m fixin’ to buy this fine woman here a ring to seal the deal. Yeah, I heard that when I was in the Army she had this ol’ slick-head hipster over in Rocky Mount  grinnin’ and showin’ all his teeth every time he sees her in town, and I hear he's been asking to sit with her some Sundays after supper. But  there’s one thing that ol’ sport coat don’t have that I got— that is this here woman, at this time, in this picture-booth, for this moment— warm, smiling, and in my arms. Hmph! I betcha he ain’t grinnin' now.

A Black Man Talks of Reaping by Arna Bontemps 1902–1973   I have sown beside all waters in my day. I planted deep, within my heart the fear that wind or fowl would take the grain away. I planted safe against this stark, lean year. I scattered seed enough to plant the land in rows from Canada to Mexico but for my reaping only what the hand can hold at once is all that I can show. Yet what I sowed and what the orchard yields my brother's sons are gathering stalk and root; small wonder then my children glean in fields they have not sown, and feed on bitter fruit. Dedicated to my cousin G. Bess; He shares a birthday with Mr. Bontemps on today, October 13th, and he has sown many good things in the time I have known him.  I'm certain there was more before we became close; nevertheless, I pray that he reaps a generous harvest.  I'm sure that he will only take that generous harvest and sow even more.  This is...

Grandmother once told of Sunday afternoons when she could meet with a gentleman -- a gentlemen who was interested in seeing her on a regular basis.  This often took place sometime after church and Sunday dinner.  In my active imagination, I envision the two meeting on the front porch on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Sitting in the swinging chair, the young man told her how pretty she looked in her pretty white dress.  He told her how sweet she smelled, and how he wished they could be alone in some place - a place that he would prepare for her someday.  He touches her hand and feels the softness of her skin as he runs his fingertips across her delicate knuckles.  The moment was so soft and sweet that he becomes drowsy with love.  He wishes they could be in that place that he wants for them.  They would fall asleep in a passionate embrace just after love has made its escape.