Hello. Come on in. The daddy writes about current events, literature, music and, once in a while, drops something on you from back in the day to make you pause and ponder, stop and stare, and begin to wonder. Who knows? You may start to pace the floor, shake your head from side to side, then fall down on bended knees in a praying position and cry, "Lawd, have mercy! What is this world coming to?" Check yourself! But this blog is NOT about the daddy. It's about you: your boos, your fam, your hood, your country...our hopes and dreams of a better tomorrow. So let's make a pact: the daddy will put it on the track if you'll chase it down and hit him back. Together, we can definitely take it to another level. Shall we?"

Saturday, September 27, 2008

Nina Simone:Three Poems for a Great Musician

i got it bad for nina simone
by Regie Cabico

nina look at the sky April clouds
hang a fat

sappy syrup on my saddest day
played you Monday night

my day unbearable as a wool
coat in april

came back to find my bed empty
as a tire swing in

Monday night i was so terribly sad
as a parlor of long veils, growing even sadde
carrying groceries up too many flights of stairs

& cooking for no one but myself

& the sound of your voice so full & broad shouldered

made the day with all its drama
into bangles & diamonds
nina you made me a culinary priestess
you placed a bojangling spell on me

crooning to the sizzling oil as i pranced like a tiger
among the tambourines & tin cans
the rain drops applauded & the single wine glass wept

because i found my inner nina
nina woman painted with egyptian mascar
nubian mona lisa with a tiara

you use silence the way a woman’s figure
made jesus bend at the knees break to the will
of your beautifully blessed contralto

crackling bittersweet as you held a phrase long
enough for green finches to fly out the winte
r gloom
nina the storyteller, nina a river lonely as hell,

nina tossed like an ark full of sparrows
you can honkytonk the bones off Kali
& steal the lightening from her toes

listen nina, i think its going to rain again
human kindness is overflowing & flows har
even in the cruelest time

Nina Simone
by Lance Jeffers
This brown woman's voice
This black wheat voice
This black thigh voice
This black breast voice:
far far in the dim of me I hear her in the dark field
of the slavery South:
gowned in burlap, barefoot,
head down, a musing smile on her lips:
out into the fields before the dawn she goes alone
she gazes into the trees swaying into the slowly-draining
sudden grief pierces her torso and she laughs scornfully:

Now she stands before a microphone and
feels the echoes of her slavery past:
and ache across her torso and a desolating laugh:
she throws back her head to sing and her teeth whiten
the bloodsea of her mouth

Nina Simone
by Nikki Giovanni

Was a beacon against the stormy sea of bigoty and hatred
Was a quilt against the cold of indifference
Was courage to the cowardly
Was boldness to the timid
Was love to the loveless
Was Home to the lonely
Is ours for now
And evermore



Anonymous said...

Your choice of poems continues to take my breath away . . . keep comin' at me, daddy. The words you choose flow like water in and through me.

The perfect antidote to election mania.

Anonymous said...

Love her. Saw her twice: once
in Paris and once in Sweden, where
she was living at the time. She was
great both times.

MacDaddy said...

anon1: Thank you. Stay with me. I will do my best to not only present good poetry but good analysis of them and other matters as well.
anon2: Who are you to see Nina in Paris and in Sweden? I'm jealous. I hate you. Okay, maybe it's not hate. Just jealously. Write back and tell me how it was to see her or to meet her, okay?

Christopher said...

Love Nina Simone.

I got turned onto to her work with the Baltimore album. I then started listening to the earlier work.

She was a splendid stylist and an underrated jazz singer.

I'm so sorry I never got to hear her live.

MacDaddy said...

christopher: I've seen all the greats: James Brown, Wilson Picket, Otis Redding and so on. But I never saw her. During the height of the civil rights movement, she did benefits to raise funds to pay to get people out of jail. So she did these benefits in places like Las Vegas where she could raise a lot of money. I don't remember her coming around Atlanta, Georgia, where I lived.

I wish I had seen her too.

Christopher said...


Wilson Picket and Otis Redding ain't too shabby.

I've seen Aretha3 times (glad I did cuz' she doesn't perform much these days), Chaka Kahn when she was a kid and with Rufus, Sammy, Ella, Carmen and Cleo Lane.

And lots of rock greats.

There's nothing like hearing the greats live. Bad notes and missed notes. Live music is a joy.

rainywalker said...

The poems give me a feeling of the hights to which she came and her voice. I have never heard her sing, but am sure she would move me.

sdg1844 said...

All I can do is smile; my namesake and inspiration in so many ways. Wonderful poems that give us a hint at how truly great she was. I miss her.