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Poems by Orma Chan'dra Colette


Monsieur P. Regret,
something's missing
glancing back hmmm … kissing!
Speaking of throwbacks,
where's my banjo?
Where's my Colored's at?
"Behind that preposition"
his momma used to say frowning.

Flibbertigibbet, panicked,
now rummaging through the attic
stumbling, fumbling, grumbling
pushing cobwebs back,
searching for his box of Black
and there it sat, imagine that! Whew!
Like the old man said, Black ain't passé!

Yes, there's that Sable,
betwixt lawn jockey's
and remnants of cotton
almost forgotten ------- No Label
Conservatives rollback
Jim Crow's in the house! Going south

Bob Jones romancing
clog dancing, prancing,
castanets clacking
occasional praying, parlaying
Run G… Run, Run G… Run
pots of olio simmer, ------- mmm!
Red carpet rolls out 18:43, tic toc tic toc
Humph, marionettes need new strings
Wake em' from this reoccurring dream! ------- not
Where's that Banjo? Black ain't passé!
Mike open and they had naught to say.


Introducing a discordant note

Up to the attic she went,
cobwebs, mind bent
on finding the box of black,
and there it sat imagine that
between the lawn jockey's
and remnants of cotton;
almost forgotten ------- no label
Sashay, sashay; Sorrel, Chestnuts -n- Sable

Déjà vu, fawns In fashion
Poets in the park after dark,
chasing rainbows ------- all for naught
Sorrel, Chestnuts -n- Sable sashay
putting impediments in our way.
No, parlay! Humph, sashay!
Mooncalf looks her way
Where my Negro's at? Black Isn't passé!

Canaille in scattered groups ------- perception,
making signs 1843, pantomime
flash bulbs, deadlines, old scoops
Where my N… at? nose up, black face
Mooncalf looks my way; Black ain't passé,

Déjà vu, fawns In fashion
This reoccurring theme
must be a dream

Cobwebs, lawn jockey's
fields of cotton, never forgotten
Cat's-paw, sashays, sashay, earmark -n- label,
Sorrel, Chestnuts and Sable

The one good thing;
it can all be done today without strings
yes, listen to them N… sing

My love for you ------- A structure absolute

You just don't know nothing's amiss
a glance, a touch, breathless; a simple kiss
tells our tale, the public not withstanding
During those moments the hearts commanding
It's a mess, I must confess, eyes locked, face to face, a caress
a warm embrace, tête-à-tête, no, you just don't exist,
subconsciously, spontaneously, oh no, nothings amiss
I'm in love, I'm in love, I'm in love; get the gist?
Oh my, oh my; you just don't know about this feeling;
this sensation that keeps me reeling
True love, my love; a kiss, a simple gesture I can't resist

Prelude to that kiss

You give me balance but you can't go by this!

In your absence I ache for thee; apart from you, I long to be,
one with thee; my love for you, your love for me ------ fulfills
I think of you, I dream of you, the length of you, the breadth of you
the wisp of you, the depth of you ------- my heart
I think …, I dream …, the hint of you, the scent of you
a little off center, I inhale, you enter ------- my mind
Moonlit walks, hand holding, quiet talks
The stone of you, the bone of you, cat's paw in my middle ------- My soul

I think …, I dream …, Sandbox, first crush, a kiss, a blush
childhood sweet hearts, long time lovers, topsy-turvy, a rush
A family; children, our Fila Brasileiro's, a picket fence
captured hearts from the start; twenty years hence ------- my love

I think …, I dream …, a pinch a pat; a bubble bath
fingers through that kinky hair, chocolate down your back
Ester Phillips crooning, (a record not a CD), all night spooning
a whisper to a scream ------- our love

I think …, I dream … The whole of you , the soul of you
individualistic, independent, altruistic, a structure absolute
Finished thoughts, unspoken words, bone to bone, stone to stone,
the shadows of my mind; true love defined; i like you

I think …, I dream …, the chaff of you, the grain of you; the wind
your warm embrace, you whisper "I love you", I sleep
apart from you, restless, the key to me you keep
my heart aches, the thought of you, my spirit awakes; my life, love, my soul mate

I think …, I dream …, I love you, the essence …, the real …; fills me
The part of you that makes my me complete; stills me
quitting time can't come too soon, darn it; it's only half past noon
Nana will have the children all weekend long,
Romance in the Dark; Dinah Washington; singing our song

There's more to me then the Ugly side of thee that you see (Reprise)

Who am I! Aspiring to be: Can't you see beyond Ugly?

Oh I know that look, it speaks to me: Volumes
Joseph Abboud Suite, silk tie, white shirt
tee shirt, Ferragamo Shoes, socks, Rolex,
brief case, all up in this rat race notwithstanding
You see Ugly, I'll be Ugly, humph; but look closer

I ain't no step back -n- run ugly
No sir, don't go and get your gun;
not a monster, no not me, can't you see?
Not a pointing from afar ugly
not a bolt your doors or lock your car; ugly
Step back and take a closer look at me

Not an avert your eyes pass me by yellow fellow; ugly
Not a clutch your purse and cringe ugly; if you see me coming
Just take a breath you'll be fine
might send chills up -n- down your spine,
but it's all in your mind what you think of my kind.
Set your bias aside, stop, you might be surprised
Don't be ugly; accept me, let me, let me; be

Discover a different type of light, that's right
Other then you, other then white: Yes, coal black of night; ugly
Look beneath this dark exterior, to my interior, I am not, inferior
Ugly; an asset, multi-faceted; productive; aspiring to be
Yes beautiful inner city ugly; American me; can't you see, beyond thee
Hey, narrow-minded fellow cloaked in yellow stop, don't pass me bye
might I coax you into moving beyond one broad stroke; it's raining ------ sigh

Scratch Reprise ------- Did I ever

Did I ever write a poem just for you;
not something changed to suit,
but for you, inspired by you, from the heart?
Did I ever sing a song for you
a song not overheard by you,
but for you, to you, from the start?
If not, this poem, this song, is for you, to you
inspired by you, from my heart.
You are my rhyme, my reason;
that won't change with the seasons
Proof: If I never said, I want you, I need you; I do.
You touched my heart from the start.
My life, my love, my inspiration;
I love you; true love, you are my heart.

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Biographical sketch: My name is Orma Chan'dra Colette. I am from nowhere in particular. Chandra Collette died several years ago from cancer. She was a daughter, mother, a teacher, a sister, a friend and a most trusted confidant. My inspiration to write comes from this tragedy, this lose. I write to honor her memory. Orma is my alter ego albeit my name.

Orma Chan'dra Colette recommends:

Soft Song by Saundra Sharp
Reason: My favorite book of poetry: Soft Song by Saundra Sharp. It speaks to me, the many moods of me, the many facets. Each time I read this book I gain new insight, I discover something new about me, about life in general.

Recommendations for writers:

If you are waiting for an external source to declare that you are a poet, a writer, or an artist, then you are probably not a poet, a writer, or an artist. It (validation) must come from within. External sources only serve to hone your craft. Constructive criticism is to the arts, what the chisel is to a block of wood; what rewriting is to poetry.

If you come across the opportunity to use the word flibbertigibbet in a poem don't pass it up. Lastly, sometimes ellipses are the only way to create the effect, make the statement you are trying to make, allergies not withstanding.


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