Maybelle poems on Hello Poetry

Chloe Zafonte Apr 2016

Maybelle

Her name was Maybelle Brown. She fell in the lake one morning and drown. Every night they hear her retchid sounds. She screams and screams, a demon she has been deemed. She stares back at you with a porcelain face and bright blue eyes, lurks in the mist with no blue skies, cry and find her as you hear her cries. Dead since eighteen eighty five not one soul in the lake has been found alive.
Will you join me for a dive?

Just something I made up

Darryl Barnes Jul 2013

Ebony

it's not your skin that makes you beautiful,

Although your skin is beautiful,

But rather your entire frame of mind

Even if you rewind back time

To when you were shackled, still you shined

Shined while chanting, still I rise

You are not a woman of color, or a girl with black skin

More accurately, you are an ebony goddess

A symbol of strength to be admired,

A symbol of *** to be desired

the way your hips sway with grace

Even if your natural hair doesn't touch your waist

No longer are you a caged bird that sings,

But rather a hawk that soars proudly or a songbird that sings loudly

Just hold my words true and never doubt me

Too often society says your skin is too dark,

They don't use you in Maybelle ads and I can tell it hurts your heart

Like everyone fears the darkest nights yet praises summers day

Remember my ebony goddess,

The night sky looks the most beautiful, when it's a sky full of rain

You are beautiful, and you are black

It doesn't matter if your skin is as dark as the night sky,

Or as light as the caramel you buy

Be comfortable in your own skin,

Because your own skin is beautiful

Reece Oct 2013

Peter Sotos' Number One Hit Machine

"Sit down boy, you're tired and you must sleep"
The voice said to me as I walked the city street
Fuzzy steps taken to a bench I saw over yonder
Sleepily wandering, the streetlights I ponder
Passive disorientation, I'm lost it would seem
Consciousness becomes a trickle, as opposed to a stream
Dragging myself over shards of glass, paralysed and sleeping
A shadow 'neath the moonlight seems to be steadily creeping
Isolated in this park in the darkness on a sigma plateau
Dextromethorphan hallucinations are a spectacular show
I'm indifferent to the stranger, drowsy as he appears
Isolated in the nighttime winds, apathetic to his tears
Uncoordinated my head falling he takes a seat softly
Dissociative disorder makes me seem awfully frosty
Speaking of lands where the populace truly is free
Speaking unintelligible words, indirectly to me
The intrinsic disconnect of this generation scorned
As the sun rises in the sky, glittered clouds adorned
My head lulls lackadaisically, I'm feeling unwell
But my stomach is eased when I think of sweet Maybelle

[Hers is a Nabokovian tale of passion in proto-dystopian wastelands
The first time we kissed, I held her soft head tenderly in my hands
The serenade of rain pitter-patter on the ground, like her feet when she's near
and hearing her name is as cathartic as those old jazz records I hold so dear
But, oh my pretty Belle, your age is a concern to me (and the eyes of the law)
So to forget your sweet face, I pop pills neglectfully, passing out on the floor]

Lifting head slowly from the rough ground dampened
Four years passed and I'm wondering what happened
Fuzzy headed blues, clear my mind with OJ and ******
Walking fast to her house, cannot wait to see her
A rap-tap on the door with thoughts of romantic enumerations
What she said and what I saw defied every one of my expectations

My innocent Belle, with her cheeks rosy red,
looks me in the eyes, and wishes I was dead

Nat Lipstadt May 2014

"Will The Circle Be Unbroken"

I was standing by the window
On one cold and cloudy day
When I saw the hearse come rolling
For to carry my mother away

Will the circle be unbroken
Bye and bye Lord, bye and bye
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky Lord, in the sky

I said to the undertaker
Undertaker please drive slow
For this lady you are carrying
Lord I hate to see her go

Will the circle be unbroken
Bye and bye Lord, bye and bye
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky Lord, in the sky

Oh, I followed close behind her
Tried to hold up and be brave
But I could not hide my sorrow
When they laid her in the grave

Will the circle be unbroken
Bye and bye Lord, bye and bye
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky Lord, in the sky

I went back home, the home was lonesome
Since my mother, she was gone
All my brothers and sisters crying
What a home so sad and alone

Will the circle be unbroken
Bye and bye Lord, bye and bye
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky Lord, in the sky

We sang songs of childhood
Hymns of faith that made us strong
Ones that mother maybelle taught us
Hear the angels sing along

Will the circle be unbroken
Bye and bye Lord, bye and bye
There's a better home awaiting
In the sky Lord, in the sky

____
"Can the Circle Be Unbroken (By and By)" is the title of a country/folk song reworked by A. P. Carter from the hymn "Will the Circle Be Unbroken?" by Ada R. Habershon and Charles H. Gabriel.[1][2] The song's lyrics concern the death, funeral, and mourning of the narrator's mother.

Kat Schaefer May 2020

Maybelle

Mama tells me you’ve been at night school
You make your living from 9 to 5
I know you like to burn the midnight oil
You study physics just to feel alive

Daddy says you spend too much time
Trying to prove that you’re above this town
He says education won’t get you nothing
Except a mortarboard and a gown

But I say forget mama and daddy
I love to see you sparkle and shine
How you talk about dystopian literature
When you come home for Scrabble and wine

Miss Carol says you’re wasting your energy
That an education won’t bring you a man
But if you live your life like Miss Carol
Being alone is part of the plan

Pastor Jenkins warns you of temptation
How knowledge often leads men astray
But I know God wouldn’t have made the path
If it meant you couldn’t walk your way

#family #school #love #friends #judgement #religion #sister #country #college #happy

Bobby Copeland Jan 2020

Another 3 A.M.

Of course it's three a.m. again--
Time long encircled in the blues--
And grateful for the company
I pull out old shellacs;
Dinah, Eartha, Big Maybelle,
Then Tina, early blues with Ike
On a long playing record, songs by
Little Walter, Blues Boy King,
Songs Ginny used to sing
At juke joints in northwest Tennessee,
Before she made her way out west,
Vegas and L.A., when cheap scotch at midnight was enough.
And now, somehow, pure grain and Percocet
Have stopped her, some say accidentally.
Man trouble too,
Horn players with habits,
Car dealers and one evangelist,
Backslidden but believing,
Tapped now to speak well,
Ignore vices and regrets.

— The End —