“Full Moon Rising Up Out Of Lake St. Clair Smiling Upon East Metro”
Pink-orange, yellow moon,
Celestial circle lamp,
Out from under the bushel
Of gloom you loom
Clair de lune,
Gently lighting the
Twilight sky with
Transparent illuminance.
Your round, round, giant
Round face emanating peace
Warmth and well being.
Saturn-like with thin
Vaporous clouds for rings,
But not a planet,
Just a glorious
Unforgettable Moon,
Viewed from an
Otherwise mundane
Commute, enroute,
I-94.
“The Second Ebenezer Black Baptist Church Choir”
Performing on a hot Mississippi like night
In Detroit, July, 2005, this choir of angelic talent
And celestial spirit, could have revived a soul of stone,
As they shook the rafters in this massive church,
As they shook the rafters, in rapture,
In this massive church.
How I wish the whole world could have seen them,
And of course, heard them.
The blind of the world should have seen them,
The deaf of the world should have heard them.
The soulful sway of ebony bodies
Donned in bright white gowns,
The unison of their every move,
Every collective sound
Compounded by all the rhythm of Africa,
Each sweet note and sonic sound,
Abounding and sounding
As one huge harmonious sound,
One boundless, bondless sound,
Set free and bound for the mountain top;
Dare I say? Free at last! Free at last!
Buoyed by the joy of Jesus,
Free at last!
I wish Vachel Linsay could have seen them,
And ol’ Abe Lincoln, and Martin Luther King,
And all the kings of the world could have seen
This black baptist choir on this hot Mississippi like night,
In Detroit.
“A Letter To Emily”
Dear Emily,
Was it naughty lesbian lust
That left you in your room? There’re
whispers now that you had want of the
touch of another womb.
Was it her who kept you there,
away from the other world? Her
tender flesh, her felted hair, her hips of a
luscious girl?
Was hers the heart who held
your heart within her trembling hands?
Was hers the love you would have hugged
instead of a man?
Or was it that the gloom
that loomed outside your recluse
room was just too much for one with
such gentleness of you?
Believe me dear we just
don’t care whichever that it was, for
we’d be bare had you dared to leave
your little room.
And to borrow a line from
a musical mind who used it in
his tune, I could have told you Emily,
this world was never meant for one
as beautiful as you.
Pete Rheaume
Pete is a Michigan poet who has traveled extensively throughout Canada, Great Brittan and the United States. He has sailed as a mariner on lake freighters. His book, “A Man Upon A Pilgrimage” reflects his love of nature. You can read more of Pete’s work or order his book at his website, “Pilgrim Poet”
I’ve had the chance to read with Pete a few times. I wish you could all hear him; he’s got a great sense of rhythm when he reads.