Requiem Haiku for Condi Rice

In sea of fools you once washed wise
Your sorrow falls like quiet snow on the vale
Now that folks have wised up.

"The Devil's Bride" (excerpt)

This is a preview of one of my upcoming novels. The main character is based on my first wife. Let me know what you think. All feedback is appreciated.

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from Chapter 1 - Belle-Glade

“One of my fondest memories as a little girl was going for ice cream with my dad. I suppose all little girls love their dads, but my dad was special; he was a real adventurer. Sometimes he would be gone for months at a time. Once he was gone for three years, but he always came back. My mother told us he was never coming back, but I knew he would, if only because he had promised me.”

Claude reached over the edge of the bed and flicked his ashes onto the the bare concrete floor and stuck his cigarette in the corner of his mouth before speaking. “Just like that?”

Nancy sat up, took the cigarette from Claude's lips and took a short drag before returning it to his mouth. “No, not 'just like that', nothing about my father was 'just like that'.

Claude rolled onto his side and propped himself on an elbow to face Nancy. “So what he do, show up in a big fancy limo?”

Nancy smiled, “No, that wasn't my Daddy's style. One day we were playing in the front yard and I saw him walking up the road with a big old duffel bag over his shoulder. I told my sisters it was him but they wouldn't believe me. They started laughing when I ran down the street to meet him, but sure enough, it was him.”

“So where had he been all those years?” Claude asked.

Nancy got up from the bed, stepped over to the small vanity and sat on the stool. “Texas, Columbia, then jail for a while until the FBI let him out for some under cover work, but he screwed them and made his way back home.”

Claude sat up and planted his huge feet on the floor, careful not to step in the pile of ashes. “Your father told you that?”

Nancy looked at her reflection as she fixed her hair. “He sure did.”

“And you believed him?” Claude let out a raucous laugh.

Nancy swirled around on the stool. “You callin my daddy a liar?”

Claude just kept laughing.

Nancy stood up and faced Claude. She wanted to strike, but that would have been foolish. Claude was just under seven feet tall, and weighed over two-hundred and fifty pounds. By contrast, Nancy was 5'2" and weighed just over a hundred pounds. “Fuck you Claude! I really hate you some times.”

Claude still had more laugh in him but he fought to hold it in as he reached out to her. “I'm sorry Ceecee. Come here and lemme make it better.”

“Don't touch me you jerk!” Nancy stepped out of range and picked her panties up off the floor at the foot of the bed.

Claude Realized that she was serious. “Come on baby, where you goin now? Hey if you goin near the kitchen, bring me back a beer will ya.”

Nancy sliped into her panties and walked out of the room. A short hallway led to the kitchen. She walked through the kitchen and sat on the worn, threadbare couch in the small living room. She tucked her legs under her, exposing the dirty soles of her feet, lay her head on the arm of the couch, and cried softly. She cried for her father. “Oh Daddy, I miss you so much. If only you could have stayed with me.”

Despite what Claude thought, Nancy's story was mostly true. Nancy's father, Billy, had come walking up the road one day after taking a Greyhound bus from Amarillo Texas all the way to Riviera Beach, Florida. Belle Glade was such a small, out of the way town that it didn't even have a bus station. Nancy's dad had hitched a ride for the two-hour drive to the small town near Lake Okeechobee. Three years earlier he'd left after being home for almost a year. He tried to be a good husband and dad and supported his wife Mabel and three daughters by fixing TVs, radios and other electronics. The computer revolution was just starting and he was saving money to buy one when life took him for spin.

Billy and Mabel were always fighting, and the fights were always the same. Billy was a ladie's man and a drinker. Mother's warned their daughters about him, and husbands kept a close eye on their wives. But Mabel was up to the challenge. She was fearless and when it came to her man, she wasn't shy about starting scandals. If she suspected that Billy was sleeping with a particular woman, she might go right up to the front door, ask for the man of the house and tell him to please keep an eye on his woman. Needless to say, Mabel made a lot of enemies.

Nancy was the middle sister. Her older sister Marlene had a son and lived with her boyfriend. Her younger sister Stephanie was a high school freshman. Nancy had dropped out of school after getting left back in the 8th grade. Her boyfriend Claude was the coach of the high school football team. For obvious reasons, their relationship was secret. In fact, even if told, most people would not even have believed it because Nancy had a reputation as a tomboy. Nancy idolized her father so much, that she wanted to do everything he did. That included having at least three girlfriends at any given time. Nancy had no romantic interest in men. To her, they were just a source of revenue. Claude was the exception for a very simple reason. He had an uncanny resemblance to her father.

Nancy dried her eyes and picked herself up off the couch the same way she always picked herself up between her father's adventures. But she knew he wasnt comin back this time. Her father had been dead for two years.

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Peace and Love,

Alizé (LoversA.blogspot.com)

Copyright © 2008 Xavier Pierre Jr. All rights reserved.

for my mom 5/11/08

Mommy's cheek

Mommy's cheek

I gently rub it

As she lean on me

She needs quiet & calm

So she came in my room

& have a little nighttime chat

Of mother- daughter moment

Yet her expression on her face

Was fondly tired & likes to go in a dream world

But still she's beautiful to me

She kissed my hand

& turned off the light

Saying "goodnight sweetie"

Indeed I told her

"I love you"

She replied, "love you too"

~

©2007 Kai C.

Happy Mother's Day!

Sought Potential

by Christoph J.

My mind is a canister filled with ink/ My thoughts take a timid dip the moment I think of my potential/ The pen is the preferred utensil/ The use of a pencil would lead to the temptation to erase the tread marks of my thoughts/ I cannot risk forgetting the lessons that I was taught/ As I climb life’s steps, I grasp the banister/ At times my pride releases my grip/ And then my canister begins to tip/ Causing my ink to slowly drip/ Drops of ink land on this paper/ With traces of my thoughts, the ink begins to taper/ Leaving behind italicized text in the form of a poem/ Its context stands on end as if it tempts me to comb through my life’s kinks/ HE thinks I shine/ Curiosity of my potential leads me to continue to climb and climb/But sometimes the hand of time refuses to shake my hand in agreement/ So I carve my name in the cement of patience/

Right now, I want you to do the same and carve your name in that same cement of patience and anticipate the continuation of this poem. Patience is indeed a virtue.