Tag Archives: champagne

The Drummer in the Band (IV)

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson - All Rights Reserved
(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved

(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved

Les Belles
(Dedicated to Emily Dickinson and Dorothy
Parker, "Les Belles des Lettres.")

As future poet laureate of the Americas
and
Belle of Bogotá
I have a question "entre nous"--
De mujer a mujer
or sister to sister,
as they say.

Would  you today
become a blonde?
Would you as a woman
dress in coctel noir most elegant
and then--
Champagne glass to hand--
THROW yourself
Across the tymps of a man
who makes you stay up all night,
Writing?

Would you drive a 'Vette?
Or stick with the sedate,
a serious sedan--
4 doors V -8 plus options?

Can your mind and heart still make you a poet
When your body dances cumbia
And your soul
Marries another culture?

So,
What does a Belle do
These days?

(C) 30 January 1995





The Drummer in the Band
So okay
I'll tell you
but
in English

about the project
if
you'll get me
a cigarette
a Kool

Thank you.

We stand
side by side
against a car
in the sun
in a parking lot
downtown
somewhere
He waits
I smoke

Okay
what happened 
was

I got the hots
for the drummer
in the band

But

Instead of doing
a gliss
on his fingers
as I planned

Or!

Sucked cherries
from his navel
as I dreamed

I wrote
poems
and then

I took pictures

See
César
is
the cake

The band
and the rest
are
only
Frosting
Decorative sugar
to cover my intent

To possess
and
be possessed
by

The drummer
in
the band

(C) February 2014
(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved.

(C) 1993 by Metta Anderson. All Rights Reserved.

Advertisements

Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

Anniversary

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson – All Rights Reserved

This is not how I wanted this quick post to look but the cursor gets stuck at the end of the label so I have to start here. The rose will end up at the bottom. Sorry!

The roses seemed appropiate. On 9 May 1953, my mother Elizabeth Faye Powers (Anderson, divorced from) married Allen E. Conrad in a beautiful Episcopal ceremony at the Chapel of the Incarnation of St. Paul’s Episcopal Church, on Ottawa Street, in Lansing, Michigan. The bride wore a ballerina length pink tulle and satin dress with a matching pillbox hat, pearls and gloves and shoes. The groom wore a dark suit. Their families were present and absolutely everyone smiled with love, happiness and best wishes.

My brother wore a dark suit with short pants (he was 6) and lucked out, along with future film director and producer John(ny) Hughes. (Yes, the same “Pretty in Pink” guy. No, the title does not refer to my mother that day.) It was sweltering, almost 90 degrees and, being Michigan, humid.

I had a pale blue organdy dress with white embroidery and a smocked bodice, custom made for me. I wore some artificial flowers in my hair, white anklet socks and white shoes. Guess what? I looked oh-so-adorable and felt oh-so-miserable! Organdy does not exactly breathe and someone forgot to line the dress, so the gathers inside scratched my all day long. In the pictures taken that day, I look like I want to burst into tears, and I probably did, but it was because of the heat, humidity and the dress. Otherwise, I was really happy because–FINALLY!!!–I would have what everyone else in my neighborhood had–a father! (My actual father, Mr. Anderson, was quite alive, and married by then to someone else.) Worse, we were living at the time in a really  nice (pretty, well-kept-up) CATHOLIC neighborhood. Everyone else had fathers. My brother and I did not, and in 1953, that just was not cool.

The wonderful reception afterward was at the Lansing Country Club and I won’t get into the details about it here. It was fun, though. My brother REO, me, Crickie (Christine) Hughes, her brother Johnny, their father (great guy!) and their mother (my mother’s matron of honor), plus many Anderson cousins (their parents were friends of my mother’s, regardless of the divorce) and meeting new Conrad cousins running loose in the well-manicured grounds of the club, plus food and I think we (as children) had ice cream. We had to have something–the heat was toasting us. Grown-ups had champagne. There was a buffet and then the wedding ccake was cut and served. There was dancing. Photos were taken.

Eventually, the newlyweds disappeared into someplace inside the club (don’t ask me where) and changed clothes. Then the entire wedding party with reception piled into those lovely huge 1950s cars (mostly Oldsmobiles, as Lansing was the number one “factory outlet”) and went off to Lansing’s Capital City Airport. The newlyweds were going to San Francisco for their honeymoon, flying from Lansing to Chicago on Capitol Airlines (“the Blue Goose”) to catch the flight west. I do remember Mom wearing an orchid corsage on her suit’s jacket. We all threw rice at the couple (and anyone who happened to be in range) as they left the terminal and walked to the DC-3 about 20 feet from the terminal. They waved from the door and the wedding photographer got that shot, too. (It’s in the album.)

No, REO and I were not abandoned in our new house in East Lansing. Mom’s mother and sister were with us, although my aunt had to return to her job in Houston after a few days. Nana stayed until Mom and our new Dad got back from San Francisco, bringing some interesting souvenirs.

By the time of my 8th birthday, 5 June, we had settled into life at 621 Rosewood. It was summer and we were a family. That was very cool.

(C) 2015 by Metta Anderson. All rights reserved.

 

Rose Tondo #1 ('97)

This rose tondo is the first of two, with the flowers in oil and the surround in acrylic.

Leave a comment

Filed under Untold Tales

3 More Poems

LES  BELLES
(Dedicated to Emily Dickinson and Dorothy
Parker, "Les Belles des Letres.")

As future poet laureate of the Americas
and
Belle of Bogotá
I have questions "entre nous"--
De mujer a mujer
or 
sister to sister,
as they say.

Would you today
become a blonde?
Would you as a woman
dress in "coctel noir" most elegant
and then--
Champagne glass to hand--
THROW yourself
Across the timps of a man
who makes you stay up all night,
Writing?

Would you drive a 'Vette?
Or stick with the sedate,
a serious sedan--
4 doors V-8 plus options?

Can your mind and heart still make you a poet
When your body dances cumbia
and your soul
Marries another culture?

So,
What does a Belle do
These days?

(NOTE: "Timps" means kettle drums, timpanies.)

(C) 1995 by Metta Anderson
All Rights Reserved



PEARLS AND DIAMONDS

Pearls --   black & White shots of César
            moments
            facets of his sculptured face
            and
            elegant hands

Diamonds -- the subject of the potos
            sparkling
            first one way
            then another
            winking
            moving
            the light is within
            and
            dazzles
            even in the dark.

(C) 1995 by Metta Anderson
All Rights Reserved




BELLEZA INFINITA

Veo en ti una belleza infinita
César
Que empieza en tu corazón de músico
and expands outward through your eyes
alert with interest and your mouth
in its quick expression

To your hands and their exquisite
uniiqueness which move out
into a space you have created
full of light

Full of sound. . .

I begin to know 
where the music
comes from.

(C) 1995 by Metta Anderson
All Rights Reserved



Leave a comment

Filed under Poems

TOUCHDOWN!!!

My NaNoWriMo Badge for 2011

This shows that I really did write 50,000 words in 30 days!

(C) 2011 by Metta Anderson – All Rights Reserved      The badge is (C) 2011 Office of Letters and Light, Berkeley, CA 

All right, literary fans, the game’s over for the season and my team WON!!!!!! I feel like I just won the Rose Bowl, at least!

According to the statistics compiled by the organizers, Office of Letters and Light, there were 256,618 participants from around the world this year. Of those, 36,774 were able to write a minimum of 50,000 words within 30 days. That’s less than 10% of the total writers.

Of course I wish I were the sole and single winner. I’m a girl. I like crowns. Also bouquets of roses and gorgeous ball gowns. And as I sit here writing, imagine me waving at the computer screen!

And I promise not to try to bring world peace or end hunger (except for animals).

However, I am absolutely delighted that I am one of those 36,774 winners!!! In fact, my novel’s word count was certified at 57,300 words and I did it in 27 days.

I felt like a zombie for days 28, 29 and 30, of course, but then I went to Crepes and Waffles and immersed myself in something creamy with a lot of calories (pistachio ice cream covered in hot fudge sauce with a chocolate truffle on the bottom). Am I worth it? What a question!

Since then, I’ve been revising and editting the text to make sure there’s some continuity, like the threads in a tapestry. The novel itself comes from the notes I’ve been writing for several months for a second book. (My first was finished in October 2010, and the second one is a continuation.) I suspected I might have a book that could be independent of the first and second ones (titled “Novelesco: A Woman’s Life as Fiction” and “Novelesco: States of Grace”), and the NaNoWriMo was an excellent place to try it out. I’m very glad I had this opportunity!

But as I wrote, I also realized that I was leaving out a lot of things. This was not really a question of self-editing so much as re-writing. I’d write my chapter and afterward realize, oh yeah, I could add this or that or whatever, because so much of the book is based on memory. So are my notes, but the notes are chronologically organized and I didn’t feel like stopping in mid-sentence to check them. While I’m ecstatic to have written 57,300 words, I keep thinking I could have written a lot more.

I will, too. I plan to flesh out “Pan Am Tapestry” and incorporate it into the planned second volume.

Just not today. Probably after Christmas.

So, the season’s over, time to fill that trophy with good champagne and dance the night away. Til next season!

And for those who want to read it, the novel’s at www.apricotanderson.wordpress.com/panamtapestry.

 

 

Leave a comment

Filed under Untold Tales