Patie

Patie
Location
Swansea, South Carolina, USA
Birthday
September 01
Title
CEO
Bio
Retired academic as well as a Renassiance woman constantly reinventing herself . I have been fortunate to taste many of life's delights as a health care professional, radio producer/on air talent, foreign policy analyst, now in twilight of my life organic gardner and exhibitor of pure bred dogs keep me busy.

MY RECENT POSTS

NOVEMBER 22, 2009 9:19AM

Journey by Joanne Jimason

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My Apologies for this not getting out in the proper way..I sent a message instead of a post.  I actually know the difference but apparently don't know it THIS morning! 

 

JoAnne Jimason from Blowing the Blues Away, Copyright by JoAnne Jimason 1981
What a pleasure it was to see the positive and interested response to my first posting of some poetry by JoAnne Jimason! I am pleased to present two other poems by her then some links to the two women, Jayne Cortez and Betty Carter who continue to carry on the blues torch.

Journey

In this mirror of Mirrors
my hazy reflection surfaces
and the journey begins.

It used to be my mother's voice
I was speaking through,
now it is my own.

In the form of shadow
in the form of wind
in the form of rain and music
I arrived here.

My Mama
she come by love in the way of
lay me down, swell my belly
and call me apple blossom,
I will bloom sweet as the flower
for you

My mama of the thick coarse hair
and big pretty legs
come here by way of
'true love don't come easy.


I come by love
thinking I could travel it light.
In the way of
'Baby, I got some music
to grind your blues away.'
No wine, no roses
no sugar cakes or sweet talk.

But
when it comes
when it comes
volcanic and turbulent,
you think you standing flatfooted
hardnosed against the wind.

But when it comes
heavy as the rivers
the full motion of these waves
makes you cry...
'oowee ooh baby baby...'

I began this journey
in the burnt out look of blond streaked hair
the faked out fullness of false hips and
the ragged edges of gold capped teeth.

Through the muted sweaty moan of loveers
the bue fart smoke of scar faced pimps
I began this ourney into love
where every lover's voice
became the voice before
and the voice yet to come.

I will split these poems up since they are rather long.
Please enjoy!

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Comments

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Oye! I need more coffee!
It is an interesting voice, isn't it? She was part of a 'dissident poets' group that was growing up around DC...all these poems, however, come out of her relationship with her husband, Adesanya, who had committed suicide leaving she and two young boys. I think she is trying to make sense of it all and dissidence as well as the loss are so tightly bound together that it is hard to make sense of it all.
Thanks for coming by and commenting.