mlowe5 | Poetry Vibe mlowe5
This poet practices good karma and posts comments 80900
contest winner 1
contest winner

Site Rank

RUBY

  4 star general
Total poems   688
Lifetime Views   43944
Total poems - 7 days   5
Total poems - 30 days   60
Total poems - 90 days   207
Total poems - 365 days   285

Books Written By Poet

you need to login or register to leave a comment

A Supreme Love: Straight Up Poetic Prose In Black

Views: 128

     The weight of sleep suddenly dropped from Leon’s eyelids.  His now opened eyes fell upon the keyboard of his computer.  A smile crept across his lips and he laughed inwardly, recalling the commercial he had earlier observed on the TV: “To continue, press any key.”  Laughing out loud and exclaiming to no one in particular, he said, “I don’t see the ‘any key’ either.”

     Leon slowly pushed back the small office chair from the desk.  With the sound of Trane’s Giant Steps caressing the room, he swirled around the chair to admire his coveted Man Cave that his Queen had graciously allowed him to have.  On two walls there were book cases from floor to ceiling; filled with books.  The other two walls were crowed with numerous awards, citations and placards.  There was also a mini bar that was a Father’s Day gift from the Queen, the kids and grand kids.

     Gingerly rising from the chair, Leon slowly stood up. Straightening his back, he quietly said to himself, “Holy .  Is this what retirement and old age is all about?”   He then went over to the mini bar and slowly poured out a half snifter of cognac.  He placed the cognac on the desk next to his computer.  He then went back to the mini bar, took a Texas size jigger and filled it with cognac.  He downed the Texas size shot in true cowboy fashion.  Banging the shot glass on top of the bar, he accidentally knocked over the small empty ice bucket.

     Although the Man Cave had a carpeted floor, the Queen heard the muffled sound of the bucket hitting the floor.  She called out to Leon.  “Honey, are you ok?  Is everything alright?  Did that big diamond fall off the ring I got you for your birthday?”  The Queen had jokes.  Leon replied, “It’s all good, Babe; must have been a small tremor.  Funny, the ice bucket just jumped off the bar top.”  Leon had jokes too.

 

     Leon and the Queen were approaching their thirtieth year of marriage.  They were more in love now than when they first met.  They were now more than just soul mate lovers.  They were also life-long partners and the best of friends.  Not the kind that would finish each other’s sentences, but who were not ashamed to say to each other, “Beg pardon; say again.”  And who was always ready for the reply, “Negro, you heard what I said.”

 

     Thirty years is a long time.  It had been a second marriage for both of them.  Both had vowed to never marry again.  To never ever have anybody else telling them and their children what they could or could not do.  Abandonment and divorce can really work a defeating mind game on you if you let it.  They both had known what B. B. meant when he belted out, “Nobody loves me but my mama; and sometimes I think she’s lying too.” But the Lord does work in mysterious ways.

 

     Leon and the Queen had met in church.  That is, they met at the funeral of a mutual acquaintance, Shed Bledsoe, who had died after contacting some strange type of disease.  He had been a stocky, pro football looking man, who at one time, probably weighed around 300 pounds.  When he died, he barely weighed around 100 pounds!  No one had talked much about Shed’s illness.  The general feeling was that Shed was dead.  Let the man rest in peace.

     At the funeral, Leon and the Queen sat across the aisle from each other; about half way from the pulpit.  The Pastor began his eulogy with the old familiar scripture from Job 14:1. “Man that is born of a woman is of a few days, and is full of trouble.”  A shout out from the congregation followed.  “You sho nuff got that right, Preacher!  Tell it like it ‘tis!”  It didn’t matter that Shed had just turned 51, and was known throughout the community as having never been any trouble to anyone.

     After mumbling something about the sting of death, the Pastor pulled out his handkerchief and in a ritualistic way, wiped his dry brow.  Preachers seemed to always wipe their brow, wet or not, to let you know that they were getting ready to get down and take care of the business of preaching.  Most of the females took up their funeral home fans and began fanning as the Pastor prepared himself to go on.

     “My brothers and sisters in Christ, I just stopped by this morning…to tell you that brother Shed is not dead.”  Now it was 12:30 PM and Shed was as dead as a door knob.  But the Pastor went on.  “He’s resting in the bosom of Jesus!  Amen!”  The call and response was now on.  “I heard that!”  “My Lawd…!”  “What you say!”  “Sweet Jesus…!”

     Pastor, now warmed up, continued.  “Day before yesterday, God was looking down on His poor people here down on earth…Ah…And His eyes fell upon brother Bledsoe…Ah…He saw him tossing and turning on his bed of pain…Ah…Hear me now!…Ah…And God felt pity on Shed…And…And…And…He called out over the highways and byways of heaven for Old Death!  He told all His angels…Go and call me Death!”  Suddenly, the Junior Pastor jumped up, put his hands on his hips, bend over almost right in front of the Pastor, and shouted. “Alright now…Preacher…Come on now…bring it on!”  The Pastor wiped his now wet brow, and continued.  “Now…now…now…God told Old Death, ‘I needs you to go down to earth and bring old Shed Bledsoe on in.  He…he…he done suffered long enough.  Bring him on home.’  Go down death…Go down there to Bucksaw County, where old Shed Bledsoe is tossing and turning on his bed of pain!  Go on down and bring him home to me!”

     At this point, Leon could not help but think that the Pastor was paraphrasing the poem, Go Down, Death.  As the Pastor continued, it became evident to Leon that this was exactly what the Pastor was doing.  A smile crept across Leon’s face.  And for no particular reason at all, he slowly turned his head and looked across the aisle.  The Queen had put her fan up to her mouth and had looked across the aisle too.  As their eyes met, it was obvious that she was hiding a smile.  However, her smile was caused by the shifting of Mrs. Effie Mae’s bronze colored wig as she got caught up in the emotions of the Pastor’s eulogy.  Mrs. Effie Mae’s wig had shifted just enough to expose the black and white knotted up ‘kitchen’ at the nap of her neck. 

 

     Somewhat embarrassed that their eyes had locked upon each other in church, at a funeral, both Leon and the Queen immediately turned forward and refocused on the sermon.  Yet, there was no doubt what each of them had felt in that moment.

     Some fifteen minutes after the Pastor had said, “Before I go to my seat”, he finally came to the end of the eulogy.  “So, be of good courage, church.  The Lawd giveth and the Lawd taketh away.  Blessed be the name of the Lawd.”  He then turned towards the stoic undertakers and said, “Come undertakers, do your thing.”  The undertakers prepared the casket for the final viewing.

 

     At the end of the grave side ceremony, Leon found himself going over to where the Queen was standing under a tree, wiping a tear from her eye.  He took out a small bottle of water from his coat pocket.  Handing the bottle to her, he asked,

     “Are you alright?  Is everything ok?”

     “I’m fine.  I’ll be ok.  It’s just that gravesides always get to me.  They bring back too many old memories for me.”

     “For me too,” replied Leon.

     As they walked back from the grave site to their cars, Leon asked the Queen if she would like to join him for something to eat over at Mamma Bee’s Catfish Lounge.  The Queen replied in the affirmative.  The rest is history.

 

    Queen came to the door of the Man Cave and noted that Leon’s snifter was empty.  She smiled a quiet smile and said to herself, “My Babe loves him some yak.”  She put her hands on Leon’s shoulders and leaned over and read the poem he had typed and saved on the computer.

 

 

   Growing Old…

   (And We Still Together, Ms. “B”)

 

Growing old together,

we’ve mellowed

like fine wine.

So much more

our love is to refine

as we ride the waves

of the passing time.

 

Neither death

nor the grave

can claim the victory

over the sacred love

that is the essence

of our story.

 

Ah, the children came

and left; and we’re now

all alone; you, me

and the dogs.

 

Praise God.

The children gone!

 

     A tear fell from the Queen’s eye, splashing on to one of the keys of the keyboard.  She let out a soft laugh and said, “Now that’s the ‘To Continue’ key.”  She gently kissed the back of Leon’s neck and whispered into his ear.  “Come on Baby, its late.  Lets go to bed.”  They left Coltrane’s, A Love Supreme, playing on the CD player.  They went into the bedroom, put on their PJ’s, pulled back the covers, and got into the bed and curled up to each other.  But the night was not over yet.

 

     “Did you take your meds?”

     “Yeah, did you?”

     “Sure did.”

     “Your feet are cold, Leon.”

     “Warm them up, Babe.  Rock me baby.  Rock me all night long…”

 

    The Queen turned over, kissed Leon on the lips and said, “Leon, now you know that there ain’t no rocking chair in this bed.  Say your prayers and take your old lovingto sleep.”  From the Man Cave could faintly be heard the whining soprano sax, and the accompanying words, “A love supreme…a love supreme…a love supreme…”      

You must be registered to leave a comment. Registration is FREE.

Register

COMMENTS

No comments. Be the first to enter a comment.

login below

Forgot your username?