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Array ( [sid] => 146709 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Fairy Saints [time] => 2008-12-08 00:33:12 [hometext] => [bodytext] => My uncle Dan
was a Harlem Man
danced extra light on his feet
smiles like radiant sun
talked up close to ya
comfortable with himself
and you could always
smell his cologne.

The ladies loved him;
loved that laugh of his
he always had flattery for them
often given.

Uptown.
down town
he never came to the house
what without a gift;
loved us 'chilings'
soft candy
and wild stories
which always had a point.

'Time was he'd say'
that there was a meadow
over that way
till they paved it over'

'Your grandmother-
why she came from 500 acres
in the deep south-
til they taxed her family out.

Had to leave the land;
she still bitter
and put out.

We all
here
in this family
immigrants
and runaways
most free
some slaves.

'Now'
he'd say
'don't trade
plantation slave
for city slave
get your own business.
Be an 'enter-pre-newr'

Knew the stars
and summer nights'
would have us all look up.

'Now see that fairy princess there
right there between those five stars
that's God looking over all little girls
and those stars are God's fairy saints.

If ever you need
just look up
and they'll be there watching there;
ready to take care of you.

Each night
go to the window
be sure to say goodnight to 'em'

He died in my sophomore year.

I traveled to Chicago to say goodbye.

He had asked all the women he loved
to leave white rose on his casket.

And white roses were there

everywhere, everywhere
as far as the eye could see
and that included a long-stemmed white rose
from me;
lovingly placed;

remembering
those fairy saints;
and Uncle Dan
looking up
all bright-eyed
saying;
'Now say goodnight;
they can hear you.

I believe to this day
he was right. [comments] => 1 [counter] => 146 [topic] => 43 [informant] => lnnie [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 5 [ratings] => 1 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => oops )

Fairy Saints

Contributed by lnnie on Monday, 8th December 2008 @ 12:33:12 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

My uncle Dan
was a Harlem Man
danced extra light on his feet
smiles like radiant sun
talked up close to ya
comfortable with himself
and you could always
smell his cologne.

The ladies loved him;
loved that laugh of his
he always had flattery for them
often given.

Uptown.
down town
he never came to the house
what without a gift;
loved us 'chilings'
soft candy
and wild stories
which always had a point.

'Time was he'd say'
that there was a meadow
over that way
till they paved it over'

'Your grandmother-
why she came from 500 acres
in the deep south-
til they taxed her family out.

Had to leave the land;
she still bitter
and put out.

We all
here
in this family
immigrants
and runaways
most free
some slaves.

'Now'
he'd say
'don't trade
plantation slave
for city slave
get your own business.
Be an 'enter-pre-newr'

Knew the stars
and summer nights'
would have us all look up.

'Now see that fairy princess there
right there between those five stars
that's God looking over all little girls
and those stars are God's fairy saints.

If ever you need
just look up
and they'll be there watching there;
ready to take care of you.

Each night
go to the window
be sure to say goodnight to 'em'

He died in my sophomore year.

I traveled to Chicago to say goodbye.

He had asked all the women he loved
to leave white rose on his casket.

And white roses were there

everywhere, everywhere
as far as the eye could see
and that included a long-stemmed white rose
from me;
lovingly placed;

remembering
those fairy saints;
and Uncle Dan
looking up
all bright-eyed
saying;
'Now say goodnight;
they can hear you.

I believe to this day
he was right.

Copyright © lnnie ... [ 2008-12-08 00:33:12]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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Re: Fairy Saints (User Rating: 1 )
by Spike on Tuesday, 9th December 2008 @ 06:21:14 AM AEST
(User Info | Send a Message)

Fantastic! What a recollection, what a homage to the effect of one on the many. I was hooked from first word to last line. I loved the way you wrote this, the pastiche of idiom, rhyme and blank verse, and such love.

Spike

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