Cottonseed Rhymes

This is all about cotton, and those who picked it.

In the twilight mist the world was kissed

By the laborers' songs that were older than time

For their anguish was woven into their songs,

Distributed to pickers in cottonseed rhyme.

All the songs that they told, those stories of old,

Are sung by the hungry, for better or worse.

It is a blessing to souls, it renders them whole,

But to others a tragic Shakespearean curse.

So go and see, and explain it to me,

That feeling that comes in the fields at noon.

Look for that feeling where souls go reeling,

Then write us a song for a harmonica tune.

Let's sing with angels and dance Beau-Jangles.

What do we have to gain, or lose?

This world is a place that gets in your face,

So, write what you feel while singing the Blues.

JE Falcon

11-05-2106

Reviews

[William Michael Reeves]

This is an excellent poem! The subject comes through loud and clear in the first read because the rhythm and rhyme are so fluid. For some reason when a poem grabs me it's because I'm reminded of a book. This poem made me think of 'Roots'. Chicken George singing away the horror of their condition. Enslaved people making the best of it the only way they can.

[JE Falcon]

Ah William, you have hit the nail on the head. Even today, even in our working conditions today. The songs of the soul do not find the mouths of everyone, but those that they find are blessed in their own way.

[William Michael Reeves]

There's an amazing song out right now, the title and artist escape me at the moment, but the chorus goes....I can't be a slave if I'm already free. I can't be a captive if I'm where I want to be. I'll search for that song and let you know. Your poem speaks to it.

[JE Falcon]

Thanks, I haven't heard it but will listen too.

[William Michael Reeves]

Found it. The song is called Blame. By Gabriels. But subject isn't what I thought now that I've read the lyrics.

[JE Falcon]

Thant's OK, I'll check it out anyway. It is time for my brain to focus on new. --- Thanks!

[jacob erin-cilberto]

Mr. Bojangles....dance, dance...had me humming the Nitty Gritty Dirt Band.
and I also thought of Guy Mitchell's "I never felt more like singing the Blues cause I never thought that I'd ever lose"
Was a tough time, a bad time...working all day in the fields just to survive....
I can visualize the harmonica playing late at night as the player can't sleep...
He is looking at the field in the moonlight...a tear in his eye.
This piece is so strong...in the one line I think you meant "laborers'"---

But you capture a feeling of a vicious cycle of life.
j.

[JE Falcon]

Thanks Jacob, for the helpful review, and thanks for the heads-up. I had the apostrophe on the wrong side of the "S". I could blame it on "Having a Senor Moment, but the spell checker is a better villain. :)

[Cherrie Palmer]

Your poem weaves a story and pulls us in with the flow of your poem.
Not everyone sings the Blues. But I think we all should. It does three things it let's us release stored emotion and helps shoulder a burden while it units.

[JE Falcon]

Too true. And thanks so much for you review.

[M. J. Smith]

Music and poetry often comfort when nothing else can. Their muses are sisters, you know.
Well expressed. Thought out nicely.

[JE Falcon]

Thank you so much. Here's to a better new year.