Wednesday, like all days, is a good day for poetry.
This week's poem is one I wrote while listening to Edda James singing the blues.
Ain't I a Woman
Singing a woman's song
in a strong soft voice
that travels limb to limb
and says "leave your worn body here"
Ain't I a Woman, after all
who can flash you an eye
and call your name to the moon?
And the the moon gives a shine,
her fullness illuminating better than any old star.
The moon will tell you true;
I got shoulders sweeter than honeysuckle
for you to lay your head,
I got arms that spread like the tide
like joy
The moon will tell you
'cause ain't she a woman too?
This week's poem is one I wrote while listening to Edda James singing the blues.
Ain't I a Woman
Singing a woman's song
in a strong soft voice
that travels limb to limb
and says "leave your worn body here"
Ain't I a Woman, after all
who can flash you an eye
and call your name to the moon?
And the the moon gives a shine,
her fullness illuminating better than any old star.
The moon will tell you true;
I got shoulders sweeter than honeysuckle
for you to lay your head,
I got arms that spread like the tide
like joy
The moon will tell you
'cause ain't she a woman too?
Awww - that's great. *sigh* you're such a romantic girl at heart :-) Here in Portugal they say the moon's a woman because she's deceitful....tsk, what can you expect from the Latins, huh?
ReplyDeleteThanks Sue. I am a hopeless romantic, it's true. The moon deceitful? Never! Changeable, yes. But never deceitful.
ReplyDelete