collab

Saturday, April 22, 2017

RED CURTAINS



















Red Curtains


Leaving home, I looked back one more time
At the little yard that needed to be raked
The old car that cried out for new tires
The flower garden that refused to grow a rose
And my heart jumped into my throat.

Dewey, the dog, barked once
And then sat there staring at me
With big, moist eyes as if he knew
He'd never see me again.

It was dawn and the dew was cold
On my bare feet
For I had crept out silently
Carrying my shoes and my suitcase.

"Goodbye, Mama." I said under my breath
"Goodbye, Daddy." "Goodbye, house."
For you were waiting down the highway
And when they'd awake, I'd be long gone.

Then a bluebird on the rooftop
Started singing and it made me cry
Starkly contrasted against Mama's red curtains
In that window frame of white.

How that image has stayed with me
All these years down all these roads
Dewey's eyes and the bluebird's song
And those red, red curtains
Faded now, I'm sure, to pink.









©Voo
July 28/07


Wednesday, April 19, 2017

THE LEGEND OF THREE TOED BOB
















The Legend of Three Toed Bob



Bob ran the old chuck wagon
For the guys out on the trail
He cooked all day while they were away
And roped them back in with the smell.

Now, the boys, they all knew better
Than to inquire of Bob 'bout the fare
Cause Bob was a high strung and sensitive Yankee
And he sizzled and stewed with such care.

One hot day  Ole Daniel, the trail boss
Dared to embarrass Bob 'fore the bunch
And the very next day he was munching on hay
And had cactus and scorpion for lunch.

Stew was Bob's big specialty
Stew and a strange kind of bread
The men quietly ate and they all cleaned their plates
Though the grub, it went down just like lead.

Out on the drives, you're not picky
You eat what you get to survive
Bacon and beans and a soup full of strings
A pot roast made of stuff still alive.

Now Bob was a curious feller
Talked 'northern he did with no slang
He tried to rope steers after two or three beers
But of the sport, he could not get the hang.

Well, they say he was a butcher back east there
But was fired from each job that he found
Nearsighted, near blind, he'd leave pieces behind
Of his fingers and thumbs on the ground.

He couldn't cut meat too good with no digits
Though the Lord knows he tried hard to do it
He was forced to hold steaks with his toe then
And one day he, well, he cut right through it.

By the time he was fired, he had only three left
So he thought a career change was due
He hired himself out with a crew heading west
And now I'm singing his tale to you.

"Oh, Bob, oh, Bob, the three toed Yankee cook
Your stew is a legend and myth
We all love you so but what we wants to know
Is what do you hold your stew pots with?!?"


©by Voo
Oct 07


Cowboy Harmonica





                 

LILITH AND HER CHILDREN





















Lilith and Her Children



Lilith, Queen of Darkness, reigns
In nether regions, dwells
Beyond the ports of hope and dreams
In realms of crimson hells
She longs to be a Lady
But demon will remain
Till all the souls of men are hers
And all the Life is drained
Lilith, Queen of Darkness, walks
In dead of night to seek
The children in their little beds
So innocent and meek
Kisses them with her poison mouth
Takes their sweet flavored breath
Pats their soft and tender flesh
And lays them down in death
Lilith, Queen of Darkness, longs
For worship and adoration
For subjects bowing at her throne
Their fear, her decoration
She does not love, she cannot love
She pretends to love the lost
But crushes them in her taloned hands
If they dare to touch the Cross
Lilith, Queen of Darkness, lies
Her words a fabled tale
She did not come from Paradise
But from the bowels of Hell
No apples from the trees of Eden
Have ever touched her mouth
She did not walk that cool green garden
For the angels kept her out
And so she walks this fallen field
And seeks men's souls to eat
The Queen of Darkness with wicked eyes
And lost children at her feet.










©by Voo
December 2, 2005 
6 pm.





O TO BE A SEAGULL





   O, To Be a SeaGull



O, to be a seagull
To sail the whispering sea
To catch the sun when day is done
And never need the tree.


O, to be a seagull
With nothing more to do
Than watch for food and catch it
And bathe within the blue.


O, to be a seagull
With freedom in my soul
Feathers ruffled with the wind
And days made out of gold.


O, to be a seagull
Not tethered to the earth
To know your purpose in this world
Between your death and birth.


O, to be a seagull
A common bird for sure
But special in my eyes so that
That bird, I wish I were.





 ©by Voo
May 29, 2010
1:51 a.m.


SHE KNOWS















 She Knows





The ocean waits for my waking
She lies quiet between the shorelines
Purring like a cat 
That dreams of cream

Yawning with the chill of new dawn,
I pull on clothes that smell of sand,
Stumble through the house still dark with night shade,
And throw open the door to a sunrise made by God

There she is, the love of my life!
The tides wave at me with their silvery-white fingers
Beckon me towards her with calls of love 
That too few men can hear

I can only stand there 
In amazement at her beauty
While morning wraps itself 
Around my drowsy shoulders now wide awake

The sea is my lover,
My muse and my temptation
Roaring in my ears
And whispering in my soul like no other can

The sun rises gold in an azure sky
And I can wait no longer
I run to her
My arms outstretched and longing

Laughing as she splashes my face in greeting
Where have you been? she asks
As she folds me in 
Her salty sweet embrace

I was dreaming of you, my love, I answer
Though words are not needed between us
Because she knows
She knows.





© By Voo
Jan 17. 2010
3:23 a.m.
For Larry Kuechlin
Poet/Surfer