YESTERDAY BLUE

© Gloria Smith 1977

I took a moonbeam to a dream

A shimmering, shining translucent ray

It came as I lay in the quiet darkness

Raining magic sparkles, whispering my name

I drifted up to a mysterious land

Where dreams come true – and wishes too!

So I wished for you and we danced about

To the misty music playing in my heart

You took my hands and kissed me warm

Like yesterday, and mirrored in your eyes

Was all the soft, sweet love I felt for you inside

I know now that it never really fades or dies

Our love took wing upon the evening breeze

A pure and precious little white bird thing

Recaptured now trembling in the palm of my hand

Hard to hold and ever harder to understand

Reshaping – changing form into a tiny bud

Then bursting forth into a fragrant flower

Flooding us with memories; dripping nectar sweet

Come my love and eat – of love’s desire forever

As I awake the first light of dawn steals in

Through shades all drawn, and nights spell ends

I cherish our rumpled sheets and bed

I tenderly touch your face and tousled hair

And know I love you sleepy head

Published 1977 The Ashland Daily Independent & in “Strawberry Saxifrage” (an anthology by The National Society of Published Poets)

Mojo Flows - A Blues Poem

Mojo flows like heat, to a four four beat, as it goes. Like spit on a harmonica, like flattened fiths, like whiskey breath. Those rocking eighty eights, mojo flows through ivory, wire and mahagony too. Like sweat on those keys...

Wafting, being blasted mojo flows, like smoke, it aint no joke, through New Orleans, Memphis, through the deepest part of Dixie. Chicago's west side, down on Maxwell, on Beal. In London, on those British Isles, mojo flows, nothing can stop where it goes.

From the deepest parts of Africa, mojo sprang, as slaves sang, 44s causing sholders to get sore, you won't hear 44's train whistle blow no more. And still mojo flows. Mojo flows all electrified in churches and in jails and where ever the blues goes, mojo knows. In Europe, in America, in Africa too.

Round and round mojo flows around that girls low cut skirt and between her legs, that is where mojo goes, that is where mojo flows. Pretty girls with lips all painted red, sleep with mojo in their beds.

Mojo flows, mojo flows and where it goes no body knows. When she squeezes that lemon, and juice runs like a mojo flow, that is what I'm talking about. The devil's daughter all round and fine, was the first to pull that trick no doubt.

Flowing, flowing mojo continues to flow, no one knows where it will ultimately go. So just enjoy it now while you can, let the mojo get under your skin.

By Kelvin Cook