Thread: The Death Rattle of the Old South

or
Requiem for Meemaw

(whichever, friends)

lo
and behold
the old woman cried
from inside the rusting pick-up
cranking down the blood-specked window,
welcome, children
come inside!

heard cross-town…

I do declare!
cried cousin,
(distant)
a waxen belle
fingering, frantic
to the faded photo
of a long-gone
handsome suitor
before swooning
to the peeling porch

near that same time…

some corn-pone preacher
seethes behind
his rotting pulpit
his congregation,
yawning, dwindles
his secret, sickly thoughts
revealed

there about…

he's hissing sweetly
the pointy-headed
cotton-mouth
defanged
lies coiled beside
the blighted live-oak
beneath a swinging nigger's ghost

meanwhile, brothers and sisters
that is if ya’ll are still mindin’ me…

on the horizon
in the trembling, roiling air
above the steaming asphalt
and faded, broken line
the city, gleaming
rises, throwing shadows
on a dubious past

and finally, dear, dear people…

the changeling,
in his moses basket
hollers
crows scatter,
the old dog smiles
he knows

and that is all.

Cool. No idea about poetry but I love the feel of the language and how it sounds in my head. Some really evocative imagery in there too with the old dog and the preacher and the waxen belle.

Great stuff, you effortless writer you.

well that pretty dang southern. very playful, love all the characters, all of them zipping by so fast in a near single moment, and i liked the trasition lines, very smooth. and finally, i really like the idea of the old dog as a changeling, i sensed him as half beast, half sage... who's seen it all but to tired to care. my take anyway. very well written.

wood

Joe, now here’s biting wit for you! My mind tossed and turned as if having a bad dream (A good thing. I’m referring to the dark/intense feelings it provoked in me.)

I begin with the fifth stanza, powerfully brutal. The KKK - “he’s hissing sweetly” haunted me even more than the “swinging nigger's ghost".. “ And it’s contrast was brilliant. Hissing, the perfect onomatopeia in this context. Chills.

he's hissing sweetly
the pointy-headed
cotton-mouth….

the blighted live-oak
beneath a swinging nigger's ghost.

To the whole of it. I wonder what Truman Capote would have to say about the blood soiled south you so aptly describe? He’d probably take you out to dinner and get smashed, of course.

Back to particulars. Fantastic first stanza, preparing me for what is to come. The blood of the “nigger”. “blood-specked window“. Then, the first snippet. “lo--and behold” said a mouthful. A striking visual, bolded.

lo
and behold
the old woman cried
from inside the rusting pick-up
cranking down the blood-specked window,

Here the caustic touch at the end of stanza. A lesson which will be passed down throughout the generations.

welcome, children
come inside!

Love the dialect peppering the poem e.g.

brothers and sisters
that is if ya’ll are still mindin’ me…

And we can't forget lo and behold. The very first three words which told me you were up to something!

A captivating read, especially with all that southern ring imagery. Just perfect.

Your ending is strong but think it could be even stronger, really "beat slam" the reader. God. You would have to surpase the already established brilliant slams. But this is just my take. Feel free to ignore me! The ending "surely"is a strong wrap up.

As Candra said, this all seemed effortless. Thank you for this read, Joe. Laurie
　

Wood – thanks for reading. Your take on the changeling and dog are about right, although I indented for them to be different characters. The changeling sort represents the idea that even though things are different in the south now, and that we all live in the shadow of its new and shining cities, there is still an underlying potential for hate and evil – although to be fair, that exists anywhere. Yes, the dog is the sage – he recognizes that the south, in some respects, will always be connected to its darker past. Based on your comment, I changed howl (what a dog does) to holler, in an effort to separate the two. It still might be confusing considering the other characters are separated by stanza.

Laurie – you and wood are both right – the language is playful and a little over the top – but the underlying current is meant to be somewhat dark. The old woman represents the generation of my Grandmother or "Meemaw," who more or less are content to remember the positive things about the old south, and push aside any ideas that they might have been complicate in anything that had to do with racism. She and the others are stereotypes, but that’s done on purpose – sort of a commentary on how the south is still perceived by some. As for the ending – I see what you mean. I kind of wanted the stanza about the city to be the crescendo of sorts – and end on a wink -- but maybe that’s not working.

Anyway, thanks to both of you. This is something new for me – way out of my comfort zone. I didn’t intend it to be taken too seriously – but I still wanted to explore serious themes. Hopefully, I struck a balance.

Cheers