Southern Days — Poetry Rally

Those gracious days long gone.
Stately women smiled, courtly men bowed.
The past is what we choose to remember.
White columns framed houses in green fields.

Stately women smiled, courtly men bowed.
Children laughed and played.
White columns framed houses in green fields.
Kerchiefs bent over cotton.

Children laughed and played.
Dance on Friday, church on Sunday.
Kerchiefs bent over cotton.
Men whipped in the fields.

Dance on Friday, church on Sunday.
That was the way.
Men whipped in the fields.
Don’t nobody tell you that.

That was the way.
Rumors of war, whispers of change.
Don’t nobody tell you that.
Singing of the promised land, singing of freedom.

Rumors of war, whispers of change.
Those days of long ago became our very soul.
Singing of the promised land, singing of freedom.
How can we forget?

How can we forget?
Those days of long ago became our very soul,
Those gracious days long gone.
The past is what we choose to remember.

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15 Comments

  1. LOVE the form and flow of this poem. Thanks for sharing~

    Reply
  2. That was the way.
    Rumors of war, whispers of change.
    Don’t nobody tell you that.
    Singing of the promised land, singing of freedom.

    loved your words,
    full of wit and humor,
    what a beautiful piece.

    your brilliance lies in your courage and talent in telling a true story, in a poetic form…

    superb poem!
    :)

    Reply
  3. start to visit participants NEW to you, we have two dozen fresh participants in the list,
    have fun sharing your work with others…
    cheers!
    :)

    Reply
  4. Such a strong poem…what we recall is colored by what we believe to be the truth…excellent poem….very poignant.

    Reply
  5. belladonna23

     /  July 25, 2010

    i loved the meaning. thanks for writing such a beautiful poem.

    Reply
  6. This is really nice right here. Good job.

    Reply
  7. what a lovely poem! =)

    Reply
  8. the past will stick within’ our memory till the day we die

    Reply
  9. Dance on Friday, church on Sunday.
    That was the way.
    Men whipped in the fields.
    Don’t nobody tell you that.

    reminds me of my youth, playing while watching my father work

    Reply
  10. Very lyrical, it’s like a song to my ears.. interesting theme, good job Morgana :)

    Reply
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