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Private, Freedom Foster, Confederate States Of
America
I'se wish ole massa Foster
see how i pop dat ole yankee's
head off
Neber 'tought i'd a come
i spen three years bein a
body servant to massa Foster
out en St. Mary parrish
Freedom Foster's me name
Ole massa did right by me
said ef i'se enlisted fo de
third regimen,he'd give me a spread
out on his plantation
i's already got me a house
en min, i gon build it too
Ole massa Foster a good massa
he don beat me nearly as much as
dem yanks did
wen i'se up in indianer
fightin wit dere regimen
dey'd treat you lower din dung
i'se dunno where Lincoln get off
talkin bout he frien to me
only dif'frence tween a norfern nigger
en a secesh nigger es
one don get whupped as much
so i'se come back, said neber agin!
wen massa saw me down de road
he turned white as a sheet!
an i'se tought he didn't get no whiter
massa come to me, sey
Jeff Davis done gave de word
We's fightin now
Livie cried wen i'se showed her my greys
South's my home, too
don't care what ole lincoln seys
he be callin niggers chillun
itole massa foster
long as i'se a nigger
i'se stand behind you
like de disciples to Jesus
all the way to de bitter end!
A Rose In Autumn
Since when does a flower bloom only in spring?
One should not be restricted to love in only one season
Flowers you pick in your back yard were watered with
Tears you cried,the
Rain of long years unfufilled
Autumn has rejuvenated you
Insisting that love is not too late!
Not all flowers bloom only in spring
Graduation Day 1996 (For Cheryl)
ever childlike with your saxphone
i would see you sit up there
surrounded by a sea of your mates
and though i could not detect
your voice from that sea
i knew the song you made, distinct,
melodious as your own life
did i drive you crazy, sometimes,
those evenings i came into
the listening room
jumping from this disk
to that record?
yet subtle lines under your eyes
are a poor graph, they cannot measure
the sponteneity of your life
our conversations were arranged
as if circumstance demanded it
did you hear my voice
when you were drawing my face?
'cos i knew every time i put
words on paper, your zeal
demanded that my art
bear your qualities
THE SUN: METAPHOR
THE WIND: VOICE
THE TREES: PERSONIFICATION
when you told me the cancer
had taken root, ravaging your body
i took your problem and made it mine
i took your pain and made it mine
i was not there
when you entered that radiation room
but i knew when you went into that womb
god was giving you your life back
even if cancer did claim you
you would've still won
you would be corporeal and spiritual
as the oaks i pass on morning walks
you said if you live long enough
you can find an excuse
for anything
WELL, YOU DID IT.
and remember this:
whenever you finish
your poem of me
don't assume things will change
summer doesn't become winter overnight
you are in my life
because god wanted me to see
if i could be a true friend
to someone
yet, your devotion is truer
than any love song
i know |