He was casually walking one evening in a bustling place called New Orleans in the year of 1845. Nonchalantly strolling down Bourbon Street, a street lined with beautiful homes; graceful verandas; elegant parlors, and... Marie Laveau.

His name was Moine Baptiste. He was a black, French Creole. A man who lived for his music, Quadroon *****, the blues, jazz, and  places where he and Charlie would play their rip-roarin' music in the place called "The Big Easy".

Charlie the sax, was Baptiste’s long, time friend, since he first started playing the 'sax' at the young age of eight.

Moine Baptiste, Plessy Ferguson and all the guys played their Cajun, jazz and blues music at clubs like, 'Antoine’s Bar',  'The Maison Bourbon Jazz Club' and 'The Funky Pirate', all which were popular clubs in the French Quarter on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.

In those days dusky stable hands would lead horses around the stables engaging in desultory conversation that went something like this:
"Hey where y'all goin' from here?" they'd query. "From here we're headin' for the "Big Apple", one would offer in reply.  "You'd better fatten up them skinners or all you'll get from the apple will be the core," was the quick rejoinder.
Resulting in the assigned name, Those Big AppleYears".

Close by on another beautiful, tree lined street was 'Esplanada Avenue'. It was the most elegant street of all in the French Quarter.

Esplanada Avenue claimed fame to a somewhat elusive, secret Bordello called LaBranche House where all the affluent or wealthier men would frequent.

Baptiste was very familiar with LaBranche House. That was where he met all his women and spent most of his money.  

The French and Creole children casually roamed the town, sometimes walking down by the graveyard near Bayou Street. They had been told many a time to steer clear of Bourbon Street, a street with a sordid reputation of burlesque clubs, all night parties and…Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of   New Orleans!  

When Baptiste was taking his walks he'd always watch out the corner of his eye. Something he learned to do when strolling along the sidewalks in New Orleans and in particular Bourbon and Bayou Streets in Congo Square. You see he’d had a few encounters with Marie Laveau.

Oh he had a great deal of respect for Marie Laveau... along with a healthy amount of fear.

This Creole woman, often used her Voodoo  to manipulate, acquire power and upon occasion bless those she liked with good luck and prosperity. She  was also quite adept in conjuring up her many powers in matters of the heart.

Her hair was long and black. She was both feared and respected. Ms Laveau had olive colored, Creole skin. Her black, piercing eyes were sharp as a razor’s edge. Almost magnetic, if she stared at you for very long.

Baptiste had called upon the Voodoo Queen a few years back when he was down on his luck..... and down on his luck with women.

It was almost to the point, that he’d all but given up on the possibity of being happy and contented.

Baptiste was a man with a robust charisma of Creole and French charm. Yet he had an air of reserve and dignity, with a bit of naughty that shone brightly in his chocolate, brown eyes. He was remarkably handsome with dark brown, wavy hair; a well chiseled bone structure in his cream colored face, full lips and a well toned body.

His main problem was, he liked too many women. Too many all at the same time. He spent too much of his money on his women which left him broke,  lonely and dissatisfied.

One night while strolling down Bourbon Street he happened upon Marie Laveau. He’d just finished playing a ‘gig’, with his old, friend Charlie his beloved sax and a few of the guys. Baptiste was feeling a bit light headed and a tad drunk from the ***** that flowed and poured so freely in that part of town called The Big Easy. It was a part of New Orleans steeped in history, lore and many mysterious legends.  Baptiste was feeling slightly tipsy from all the Whiskey he'd drank.

When Baptiste saw Marie Laveau walking towards him down on Bayou Street, he boldly said:

     "Well, Ms. Laveau”,  said he as she walked on by
      She looked piercingly at Baptiste, stared straight at him right through to his eyes.
      She was the famous Queen of mysterious curses
      She carried potions and spells in her bags and purses
      She was a famous legend in New Orleans where all the black trees grow

      This Black, Creole Lady lived in the dark, murky swamps all alone
      She carried black cat’s teeth and eerie Mojo bones
      She had three legged dogs and one eyed snakes
      A mean tempered hound she called  Big Bad Jake    

      He said, “Ms. Laveau you Voodoo Witch
      Please cast your spells and make me rich”!
      Marie started mumbling and shook her magic stones

      Why it scared Ole’ Baptiste right down to his skinny ole' bones!
      She cast aVoodoo Spell and spoke some eerie incantations
      Promised him wealth, true love and a big plantation!
      There’s many a story told of men she’d charmed
      But Ole’ Baptiste, he wasn’t too alarmed

      They strolled through the graveyard down on Bayou Street
      Where all Marie's ghouls and ghosts and spirits meet
      There lived a big, black crow where she held her ritual scenes
      She spoke powerful Voodoo words and cast her magic in between
      She held Baptiste’s hands tightly in her large, black hands
      She promised him love and riches and lots of land
      From that day forward Baptiste had more than his share of luck
      He had the love of a beautiful woman and lots of bucks


      But Baptiste always remembered that piercing look in Ms. Laveau’s stare
      An admonishing, cautionary warning they always shared
      If you ever walk the streets in New Orleans....
                                   Beware....
      You just might meet up with Marie Laveau... "The Bayou Voodoo Queen"
__________________­_________
"Marie Laveau (September 10, 1794 – June 16, 1881[1]) was a Louisiana Creole practitioner of Voodoo renowned in New Orleans. She was born free in New Orleans.
Marie Laveau a legend of Voodoo down on the Bayou. This well known story of this
Voodoo Queen who made her fortune selling her potions and interpreting dreams...
all down in a place called New Orleans!

FORTUNES READ the sign displayed
TRINKETS, CHARMS AND SPELLS
The store had not been here yesterday
shades of candles, books and bell
Drapes were hung from side to side
The windows all were dark
Where was this place a day ago?
Just yards from Salem Park
Gothic kids sat on the stoop
Waiting, hoping to get in
Were they wishing for an audience
Or to confess a mortal sin
The door was red, it's number black
The name of M. Laveau
Was etched into the window pane
It stood out like fresh, new snow
I thought "how kitsch", M. Laveau
New Orleans voodoo Queen
four hundred years since she had died
The best witch the world had seen
don't worry though, the address was
Not numbered 6 6 6
That would have been too hokey
Even my poems aren't that slick
My spider senses tingled
Just a line, not something real
But every now I get sensations
It's just something that I feel
I chose to pass the goth kids
pale, lethargic on the stoop
I figured something's coming
And I'm jumping through it's hoop
Something wicked this way comes
I thught as I went in
But, I was greeted by a little man
About four foot tall and thin
the bell rang loud behind me
As the door closed there behinda
and as the light diminishd
I was standing, slightly blind
The man just stood there staring
then he spoke, a tiny voice
"I know just why you've entered"
"Welcome, Billy Boyce"
I stood there, then I backstepped
How did this many know my name?
I knew it wasn't magic
It was just a parlour game
As my eyes became adjusted
I saw nothing in the room
Just this tiny little elfling
And some shelves, there in the gloom
I said, "I saw your sign, sir"
FORTUNES TOLD, and I'm intrigued
"Can you really tell my fortune?"
"Or are you playing on folks needs?"
"Not me sir, I'm just waitng"
"You see the mistress is not here"
"But, if some silver hits the counter"
"I am sure that she is near"
I thought again of M. Leveau
The Witch Queen, so long dead
But, the way he spoke about her
Seemed to fill me full of dread
I thought of charms and trinkets
But, the empty shelves displayed
Not a bell, a book, or candle
Just a scarf, just slightly frayed
"She can answer all your questions"
"Take the doubt away from life"
"She will open up your minds door"
"She will remove all of your strife"
He could see that I was pensive
I turned and saw something was wrong
Where I knew that I had entered
The front doorway, now was gone
He bade me sit, prepare my thoughts
The Mistress would soon show
I would not have to ask my questions
He said The Mistress, just would know
I thought, Ok, I'll play along
someone's gone to lots of work
But, there was no rooms or doorways
For the Voodoo Queen to lurk
He lit a candle on the counter
Not the window, like Elton John
He told me turn with eyes closed
And when I finished, he was gone
The man left just the candle
Some small match book and a key
Then the wind blew out the tiny flame
And I knew, I had to see
So, I funbled for the matchbook
Lit the candle once again
When the room was now alighted
I had that feeling once again
I knew I was not here alone
Someone else was here, but who
"would you like to take a seat dear sir?"
I just froze, what should I do?
I turned to face the speaker
A young lady, all alone
I just stood there, dumbstuck, staring
Like I had just been turned to stone
I sat as she requested,
In a chair, not there before
she said, "I'll tell your fortune"
"And if you want, I'll tell you more"
She said "you've many questions"
"I can read them in your mind"
"But, you must sit down and focus"
"This is going to take some time"
She spole to me of angels,
both the bad kind and the good
She told me of my watchers
Some who lingered closely in the woods
She told me things no one would know
Unless they'd seen them done
I felt like I'd been torn apart
Shot with a bullet from no gun
She said, "I am the one you think"
"Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen"
I said "I don't believe you"
She said "can you explain, what you have seen?"
I told her no, she had me there
But, why had she picked me
She said, "you have it backwards sir"
"It was your choice to see me"
Paul Prudhomme, New Orleans
The Saints and Dr. John
Katrina and a second line
All the people that were gone
She said "those thought have called me"
"You are someone who believes"
"You will bring life to my city"
"Before you make your choice to leave"
"through task and deed you will bring back"
"New Orleans from the dead"
"You will breath life to this wormy corpse"
"You will help her move ahead"
I told her "your'e mistaken"
"I believe you've got it wrong"
She said "I know of what I'm talking"
"You were singing my favorite song"
The Witch Queen of New Orleans
laughed and said I'd know just when
to start the resurrection
When to build this town again
The wind came up, the room went dark
I was alone in here once more
I again lit the old candle
Saw the thin man and the door
He said "you saw the mistress?"
I told him, she was here
He said " I always miss her"
I said "she'll be back I'm sure, no fear"
He said "you got your answers?"
I told him that I  was not sure
She told me things about me
That I did not know before
I said she laid a challenge
To bring NOLA from the brink
She gave me more questions than just answers
And I needed time to think
He said "I know...she works that way"
And then he bade me well
And the front door slightly opened
And I heard a tiny bell
I walked to it and turned around
I was the only one inside
Had I really seen this little man?
Was the Witch Queen just a lie?
I left the store, the goth kid was gone
I was on the street alone
Was this my imagination?
Or just a story I had known?
I walked a bit and turned to look
Down the street back to the store
FORTUNES TOLD was out of sight
M. LAVEAU was gone once more
I don't know how I'd bring it back
Would the Saints come marching in?
I think it's just up to the people
To breath life in this town again
Blues and Louis Armstorng
The French Quarter, savoir faire
Laissez les bons temps rouler
Listen to Marie Laveau and enjoy all that is there.

Your advice is appreciated,
but I think that instead of
the 'three shining coins
and a lonely crossroads' thing,
I'll just write him a poem.