Was it December?
No, not December, I didn't know you then.
Not when embracing cold winds blow and luscious soft snow flows.
You had already captured part of my soul with your words.
You may leave the fair,
but you'll be back I swear.
I know who you are.
My momma was clever,
and my daddy loved her forever,
he had the words too.
Super summer sugar coppin' in the mornin',
do your shoppin' baby,
love my lovething.
Coffee,
coffee with my dark knight,
coffee with my dark knight in Decemberry,
coffee with my dark knight in my Decemberry boudoir.
Just a bit to sweetin' it.
My chivalrous dark knight in my Decemberry boudoir.
My soul is ageless,
my heart is ageless too,
there are no time limits in them to love you.
Love-coloured soul, love-coloured soul kissing spice,
cinnamon, vanilla, a venti mocha latte to ease my sweet tooth,
so many earthly delights!
I sway, I swoon, no drug was ever this good baby!
Tastes so good it hurts.
A spoonful or so will make us grow.
Grow with me baby,
you have held my heart.
I feel your presence, late at night when darkness curtains the world.
Then when I close my eyes daddy comes to me from his grave.
Daddy speaks to me through my dreams.
Sweet child your heart knows love, but do you know
what can and cannot be?
Of all my daughters you were born a woman, not a slave.
All I desire is the happiness of your heart,
and the harmony of your mind.
I know who you are.
In dreams will December bare our affair?
Kisses from you in the flames of December,
kisses from you, true they are,
kisses from you in the flames of my Decemberry boudoir.
There have been times before, but
my heart is pure baby,
I confess.
Listen to and read lyrics for December's Boudoir
Listen to and read lyrics for The Confession
This is a writing challenge based on the two songs above, it actually started last July. One person left Gather so sadly her interpretation is no longer here (I thought it was wonderful!). There are two that are on Gather, they are A Response To Laura Nyro's December's Boudoir By Isis Anderson and December by Thomas W. Click on the titles to see them. Their interpretations are quite different from mine.
There might be more doing this challenge. If you want to participate please do. Just please come back here and leave the link to your interpretation. My interpretation is an amalgam of Laura Nyro's words and my own. I hope you like it (I can't decide). Writing this was very liberating, welcome to a part of my surreal relationship with Laura Nyro.
Oh, sorry I have not been commenting. My muse has been driving me like crazy and I have been running on empty. I am awake now, but still dreaming.
In Honour of Laura Nyro [18 October 1947 - 8 April 1997]
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Comments: 27
This has the feel of Toni's Morrison's writing, with all of your delicious visuals and your strong (might I say matriarchal?) narrator.
Thank you for posting this to The Surreal Circus.
Thank you Ann, matriachal?
A beautiful femme filled dessert~
Thank you for posting to GutterGirls~
I enjoyed this!
Kimberly, you have given me a very great honour. Thank you!
"Matriarchal" as in a society of powerful women.
You are now featured at The Surreal Circus.
Yes, understand that, just don't get, never mind it's cool.
Each of us have a flavor we spill when we create. Yours is of rich berries and fruity essences which always puts a thirst in me to taste more of it. I haven't had time to contribute to the challenge but I intend to.
Good stuff
Thank you Spencer! The lowly scribe bows to the mighty muse who has been most excellent lately.
The Insides Of My Chocolate Box
You shook me to my depths of mirrors
where the sweetness walks with pain
to fill my mornings wrapped in drapes
with your gallant, poised disdain
And I ask you now to take me
into everything you are
and steal me out of my own cage
I've built around these arms
Walk me through the dawn
on an endless stream of love
feed me rubies from the river
in this captivating psalm
of ancients passions through my pleats
of skin and satin ire
shape me into all your moods
by the souls who shake inspired
out of coffee rivulets
down my chin like tears
feed me on the afternoon
on every dance step on the pier
Mother came out of her golds
to melt her haughty decadence
her beauty carved of frost
for father she took every bruise
until I came along
and then she kissed my newborn life
and gave it all away
to a man who would be god
in his delicious brand of pain
Her mouth was like a pearly shell from the sea beyond the day
the nights took every ounce of strength
to keep her whole
and sane
as she walked it past the chocolate box
on a sill of golden leaf
by the river on the gondola
she'd fall right down a rabbit hole so succulent and deep
where marzipan was free to taste
and the pearls they danced like ladies
framing every bag she bought
for a child who just kept fading
away from the odd brand of love this mother gave in rage
in words that left their deep indent
on the child up to this day
This child who walks in women's skin
she stalks it now like Eve
and wraps herself in sugar gardens
where her flavor has some heat;
and she laughs, o, so in love with her own angry little walk
asking him "You love me now?"
as she breathes diamonds through the dark
to cut to pieces every ribbon
he's wound up 'round her wrists
and she turns her insides into chocolate
for a box of golden hits
for the man who shakes the water from his brilliant, sable hair
and eats her down like honey
and drinks her down in pain
And so I stumble now through a ginger house you've built
out of every piece of sweet
maiden
you have spilt;
am I then to be just another
to amuse with your confessions
am I then just a chocolate box
to explore at your discretion
and if so, then I will tell you
to pick wisely from my creams
for Pandora built this box of me
which could all end over sweet croissant
over coffee with some scream
copyright:2008victoriaseleneskyedeme/publishamerica
from the book THE RASPBERRY GIRL
All Rights Reserved
This is my favorite interpretation of "December's Boudoir" done by an amazing poet!
=) hug
Chana, sweet Chana. I understood The Challenge, but for some reason I could not decipher December's Boudoir. I shall try to read it again. This time, slower than ice would melt in a Iceberg. He said, pausing for effect. But not so slow, that I would stick to the Iceberg..
Yes Randall, please don't fall off the iceberg. If you do that you will get hypothermia and die, and then where would I be?
This is really an enjoyable read, Chana. It has it's own special rhythm like skipping stones. :)
Featured in the The Triple Name Club
Thank you Kathryn! So sweet!
Another smashing success! Bravo!
Thanks for posting to my group, Anythingwriting
I love it, Chana! I would have featured it, but Ann beat me to it. Thank you for posting to our group.
Just the thought honours me JJ.
OMG Such a sweeter voice I've rarely heard. And of course, the earthly delight that you've posted here illuminates the original. What more could be asked of a tribute? Given time, I may return and offer you up my own December. And I second Nancy's comment of skipping stones, she's right. I have skipped thousands os stone in my youth never realizing until tonight, their eternal sound.
Yes Robert please. We wish to hear you trumphet your tribute to Laura and her boudoir.
Here's my take on the song. Thanks, Chana banana!
http://www.gather.com/viewArticle.action?articleId=281474977695935
That's lovely.
I enjoyed reading this Chana. I think you have what it takes!
This one is exquisite...
What a sweet Tribute...
Thank you Syed, a morning glory compliment if there ever was one.