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Product Details
| ISBN-13: | 9781504973861 |
|---|---|
| Publisher: | AuthorHouse |
| Publication date: | 02/10/2016 |
| Sold by: | Barnes & Noble |
| Format: | eBook |
| Pages: | 62 |
| File size: | 12 MB |
| Note: | This product may take a few minutes to download. |
About the Author
Read an Excerpt
Reflections of the Soul
That Simply Overflows
By MkatBelin
AuthorHouse
Copyright © 2016 Mary BelinAll rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-5049-7385-4
CHAPTER 1
Moon over Walnut Tree
The pale gray moon hangs free
Just above the walnut tree.
Still and quiet she lends the light
Holding back the dark of night.
Neutral in opinion there to stand
She peers into the heart of man
She speaks to him in her rays
Helps him mark the passing days.
She marks the cycle of the man
She marks the cycle of the ant
She guides them both to harvest
She guides them both to plant.
And then she is the window
That allows him to stare
To touch the face of God
For you will find him there.
By Mkatbelin
Red-Headed Woodpecker
While sitting in the garry
On a summer afternoon
The azure fading fast
The rain would be there soon.
I saw a scarf of color
Flash across the sky
Red on black on white
A bird was passing by.
It is a thing of beauty
And I longed to have it.
Much closer crept I
With intent to grab it.
From my grasp it flew
Leaving not a colored feather
Off to her shelter
To protect her from the weather.
By Mkatbelin
The Yellow Lotus
The best flower I ever had
Was one I picked from a lily pad.
Sweet and fresh it called to me
I just could not let it be.
The lily pad began to twirl
Then took me to the fairy world.
There I saw the fragrant flowers
As dew fell down like April showers
I stayed as long as I could stay
Til all the scent had gone away.
When next you see a lily pad
Think of all the fun I had.
Then thank it for its lovely grace
And leave it right there in its place.
By Mkatbelin
Smoking
We kids smoked behind the shack
You watch the front, I'll watch the back.
You bring the smokes I'll bring the matches
Let's not get caught as this plan hatches.
"This stuff is not for kids you see"
That is what they say to me.
But this is what we often do
Take a break and call the crew.
By Mkatbelin
Jack
Had an old mule
His name was Jack
We rode his tail
To save his back.
The tail broke off
And we fell back.
That's what we got.
For riding old Jack.
Author unknown:
(Mother used to recite this to me. I never knew where it came from.)
Ms. Gladys, the Grocer
Hi Ms. Gladys at the grocery store
I've come for cheese and nothing more.
Haven't any money to buy any meat.
Haven't any money for any sweet treat.
Didn't mean to slam the front screen door
Just want the cheese and nothing more.
You got plenty melons, got good peas
Too bad I only came for cheese.
Thank you Ms. Gladys, my family will eat.
Thank you Ms. Gladys, next time, meat!
By Mkatbelin
Checking for Snakes
Big Mama's picking berries
She's going to bake a pie.
She wants to get the sweet black ones
But she's afraid to try.
She's checking for the lil green snake
That haunts her by and by.
She stands upon her tippy toes
She peers into the vine
She knows that's where the lil green snake
Hangs out all the time.
But she really wants to bake this pie
So she pushes back her fear
She really needs the black ones
So she creeps ever near.
Filling up her basket with no snake in sight
She thanks the lil green critter for being so polite.
By Mkatbelin
The Swallow on the Thorn
The swallow sat upon the thorn
Which barely shook at all.
I thought I saw him near the barn
I thought I heard him call.
The leaves are turning yellow
The grass now brown and dry.
Dark mood for such a swallow
Choosing to pass by.
And stop along the way
To rest upon the stem
Perhaps to say "good day"
As summer's light grew dim.
By: Mkatbelin
Hidden Treasures in the Mulberry Tree
Rain beat down the yellow leaves
Leaving the tree to shiver.
Stark it stood against the gray
The sky a dampened silver.
Kitty cat went stalking by
Looking for small pests
But by and by she looked above
And there she spied a nest.
What treasures could there be in there?
It wasn't very big.
But good things fall from small nests
Perched above the twig.
Decided she would wait there
To see just what may please
This tree had hidden treasures
Just beneath her leaves.
By Mkatbelin
Dying Rose
The old rose had hung her head
And I knew that she was dying.
It was awfully pretty once
It set me off to crying.
The stem was broken in the vase
And so it broke my heart
I could have kept it longer
Had I noticed from the start.
I wish that it could live again
It brought me such a smile.
I wish that I could hold its scent.
And look at it a while.
I gave it plenty water
I set it in the sun
But this old rose has no roots
I know that she is done.
By Mkatbelin
Juke Joint Jenny
Jenny sings.
Benny thumps.
Back and forth
They go to dumps.
Juke joint in
Juke joint out
Let the people
Dance and shout.
Make them happy
Make them dance
Men get stompin
Women prance.
Get there early
Grab a bite.
Jenny and Benny
Playin tonite.
By Mkatbelin
Rinse Water Spa_
Let's take our bath in Mama's rinse
Two each to the tub.
So much stuff to talk about
In the All Girls Club.
Don't wet the hair or lose the bows
That's all that she will say.
In other words it's "Have fun girls,
Off you go to play."
I'm so glad she set the barrel
I'm so glad she kept the rain.
But when we go inside
She'll make us bathe again.
By Mkatbelin
All Girls Don't Twirl
I don't feel like dance today
I'm just being a girl.
And when this girl don't feel like dance
Not one clap! Not one twirl!
I know I'm on the stage today
I know the show is on
But I don't feel like dance you see,
So you can all get gone.
Thank you all for coming
There's nothing more to see.
I don't feel like dance today
I'm just being me.
By Mkatbelin
Absent Hunter
Where's the Master who takes me
To hunt the autumn wood?
Where's my boy with slingshot
I'd find him if I could.
I track for him on most of days
Whether it rains or not.
He comes to me and shoots the gun
There's gravy in his pot.
The bullhorn hangs upon the nail
There's yellow light within the shack
I hope the master summons me
He is the leader of this pack.
I will wait for his return
I will bring him to the meat.
Then silently will I sit again
Gently at my master's feet.
By Mkatbelin
Christmas in Arkansas
Sister decorate the tree
Sister we must make the tea.
Sister we must tie the bows
They are red like Santa's nose.
Presents hid by Ma and Pa
Its Christmas time in Arkansas.
Feel the cold December chill
Help our mother with the meal.
He has a list and checks it twice
I know his hands are cold as ice.
We both were good, they told him so
Soon to bed we both must go.
By Mkatbelin
Lucky
Some other fool is on the line
Pulling with his might
The corks is floating in my face
Below the line is tight.
But that is why I'm Lucky
I'm glad the water is dim
If you hang out with the fishes
This is where we swim.
I don't mean to brag
I glad that she got him.
Oft I don't feel lucky
Danger is at hand
If I'm not very careful
I'm in the frying pan.
By Mkatbelin
Peeping in the Well
I can see my own reflection
Sister, hold my foot for my protection.
There's something here that we can learn
When I get down you take your turn.
Mother says there are no fish
But both of us can make a wish.
Mother says leave it alone
And draw from it when we are grown.
But, this old well's a mystery, so dark so deep
That any little child would take a little peep
To see just what's in there, make a connection
Or simply, just to see her own reflection.
By: Mkatbelin
Portrait of Hillary Clinton
What we have to do. ... is to find a way to celebrate our diversity and debate our differences without fracturing our communities. By Hillary Clinton
Pencil Sketch of William Jefferson Clinton
There's nothing wrong with America that cannot be cured by what is right with America. By: "Bill" Clinton
The Day the Artist Died
I sat Sponge Bob-like on the first row on the first day of class at the University of Arkansas. My eyes were surely gleaming just as Sponge Bob's does in his driving class with Ms. Puff. My two pencils were sharpened and lined up carefully next to my syllabus. I had way too many notebooks, and my backpack was extremely and unnecessarily heavy. Forced to hustle across campus on a brisk 15 minute walk to make this class, my backpack was strapped to me like a small, brown, leather conjoined twin.
I was as yet unfamiliar with the busing system. Red, Blue, Brown and a host of other colored bus lines crisscrossed the huge campus going in directions that I could not discern on the first day of class. The place was bustling with young, lost faces with wide eyes just like mine. I decided not to try riding the bus just yet. I could not risk being late for my first journalism class.
The trek across campus was hard, but the Business Building was much newer than the asbestos-laden Old Main. Old Main was the most famous building on campus, with its north tower higher than the south tower to commemorate the victor in the Civil War. My spirits lightened as I entered the new building. This was the University of Arkansas. I was there. I had earned this moment with a 4.0 grade point average from Hermitage High School. I felt I belonged here, and I had come to get whatever this university had to offer me.
Hermitage High School was a great place to grow up in school. Hermitage High School loved me, and I loved her in return. I started there in the first grade in the late sixties and finished with honors 1980. I loved Hermitage's students. We had grown up together just like a family of sorts. We were all passed along together. Schooling all together based on age and size, we grew like a school of minnows in the catfish pond.
I loved Hermitage's teachers. Ms. Raines, my civics/annual staff teacher, was one of my favorites. She picked me for the annual staff and took me practically everywhere she went on school business. She had written in my annual that she felt that I was the daughter she never had. I felt the same way and I absolutely devoured everything that she taught me about print and photo journalism. It had long been decided that is what I would study at the university.
There was Ms. Ferrell, my absolute jewel of an English Teacher. When we walked into her classroom, the lights were bright and the windows open. Her chalkboard was already full of very awkward writing that was not straight. She was standing by with her eraser in her chalk-dusted hand. Her pants were also covered with chalk dust. She was already waiting for us to write this down so that she could quickly fill it up again. Her jet black curls were briskly blunted just below her ears. The black rimmed glasses framed her blue eyes. She had a serious look, and a serious red pen. But her look was deceiving, the red pen was not. She was extremely kind-hearted, and she had a way of drawing even the shyest student into her hurried English/Literature fray.
I was never sure exactly how she kept getting my poetry and writings. Sometimes I gave it to her. Sometimes I turned it in by accident. Either way, she read it. She read it all. Sometimes she punctuated it with her horrible red marking pen, taking out extra words. Often she read my writings to all of her classes and discussed them openly. She bragged on me at every turn. I spent as much time pleasing her as I could. It was good to be a teacher's pet. By the 12th grade at Hermitage, I was now a big fish in the tiny little pond of Hermitage High School with Ms. Raines and Ms. Ferrell coaxing me along. All of our teachers had worked hard for us, but especially Ms. Ferrell and Ms. Raines gave me a special sense of confidence.
Other students, mostly kids like me at age 18 or so, began to file into the class room at the university. I noticed they were much more appropriately dressed than I was in my slick-bottomed plastic shoes and polyester clothing. But that was ok. I did not care about the obvious difference in our clothing, I was already sizing them up. I was born to be competitive in academics. So far, there were no other black students in the class but I was used to that from the academic circle at Hermitage High. It did not bother me there and it would not bother me here to be the only black student. I looked forward to the challenge before me.
As I waited for the class to fill up, I began to day dream about how I had left things back home just days earlier.
"Don't you walk out that door going any farther than Monticello, Young Lady! Your brother is there. You got two sisters there. That professor, Vietnan, wrote you and sent you a dictionary with a personal invitation to study English under him. You won the writing contest there. You've been published since you were 16 from right there. You got it made. Right there."
"But Daddy, I've already been accepted at the University of Arkansas in Fayetteville. I will do fine up there. I have plenty of money from the academic scholarships and grants. I may not even need a loan this year. Other people from my school are going to school with me there. If it's the car you are worried about, I don't need one, I can catch a ride with one of them back and forth."
"Naw! See, it ain't the ride. It's the distance. You gonna be far from home. If you need help, we can't get to you. You a lil country mouse, May. And a country mouse like you ain't got no business out of the country. You hear?"
"Yeah, but Daddy, I'm a grown country mouse." I wished I had not said that. His face changed.
"Now see, you ain't grown and don't you sass me. That's your problem. You don't listen. You got a head like a billy goat. I know you want to go to the best school. I know you want what YOU THINK is best. But at 18 you don't know what is best. You aint been here long enough to decide what's best. So you stop that "grown" thing right now. You nowhere near grown, hear me?"
He softened his voice and added, "See Daddy been here a while. You need to listen to me."
I softened my voice too. "If I run out of money, I can just work. Everything will be fine."
"Everything will be fine", he repeated my words. "All of your thinking is magical. Is everything just supposed to happen by magic? If one thing doesn't work, what, you just make up something else." He paused and continued.
"What I am trying to tell you May is this. There's a pretty, smart girl on every corner where you are about to go. It is the distance. I told you. It is not the money. It's the situation and the distance. That big old world out there ain't what you think. Everybody ain't nice. A pretty lil girl like you can get chewed up in a big system like that."
"Yeah, but I think you and Mama raised me right." And I hoped like hell this would help me. Stammering I tried to continue, "I want you to trust...."
"Yeah but. Yeah but!" Then he added. "Trust like hell! I think you need to put the bags down and go to bed. Monday morning you can apply at UAM. Me and your mama will take you there next week."
"Naw, Daddy, I'm gonna keep my plans." I too was firm of voice although my knees were jelly.
"Who's taking you? Gimme the number? I will call them and tell them you changed your mind."
The situation was not going well. I knew Daddy's speeches to each of us. All of the do's and don't's. I could recite them by heart. This was more than a speech. It was a direct challenge and I was not sure how it would end.
My father was not a striker so I was not worried about being struck. But his words could be punishing and brutal. He was not de-escalating like I hoped he would. I stiffened my spine, but I did put down my bags. I then shot a glance at my mother.
She was riveted to the spot standing near to her burgundy easy chair. Her jet black hair was pulled into a severe French roll in the back of her head. She did not speak at that time, and I did not expect her to. My parents were from the old school. They would never disagree in my presence.
Mother's eyes were kind, but the middle-aged beauty spoke not a word. Privately she and I had discussed my plans as I filled out my application. We continued to discuss my plans as I was accepted immediately and financially enriched from the Financial Aide Department. By the time we added up the money with academic scholarships and grants, there was enough money to go to school comfortably if I managed it well.
Finally, she told me privately that she wished me well, but that I would have to get past my father on my own. How she must have worried about the very hour this separation between my father and I would happen.
Getting no help from my mother, I strengthened my resolve and picked up my bags again. They were heavy, but I made two steps towards the front door of our family home. I was extremely nervous and my heart was beating faster than it ever had. Defying my father was something that none of us children had done often. I was devastated by Daddy's words but I was hoping that in time, when I was doing well at the university, managing my money, and changing the world, he would be glad.
But then, my father threw down his final playing card in the game of the verbal spades. The big joker spoke and the words reverberated in my soul piercing at every twitch and turn.
"Lemme put it to you this way: Young Lady, and I admit you are a smart one, too smart if you ask me," he finally paused, "if you walk out of that front door, don't you EVER come back to this house! You are cut off for your hard head and your disobedience!"
And then to add insult to the injury that he had just inflicted, he stepped close to the door. "I am soooo disappointed in you." He folded his arms across his chest, and I knew that he was "daring" me.
With that I eyed my mother. She was wringing her hands but still riveted to her spot on the floor glancing back and forth between my father and me.
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Reflections of the Soul by MkatBelin. Copyright © 2016 Mary Belin. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
Excerpts are provided by Dial-A-Book Inc. solely for the personal use of visitors to this web site.
Table of Contents
Contents
Introduction of the Author, 3,Dedicated to:, 5,
Moon over Walnut Tree, 6,
Red-Headed Woodpecker, 8,
The Yellow Lotus, 10,
Smoking, 12,
Jack, 14,
Ms. Gladys, the Grocer, 16,
Checking for Snakes, 18,
The Swallow on the Thorn, 20,
Hidden Treasures in the Mulberry Tree, 22,
Dying Rose, 24,
Juke Joint Jenny, 26,
Rinse Water Spa, 28,
All Girls Don't Twirl, 30,
Absent Hunter, 32,
Christmas in Arkansas, 34,
Lucky, 36,
Peeping in the Well, 38,
Portrait of Hillary Clinton, 40,
Pencil Sketch of William Jefferson Clinton, 42,
The Day the Artist Died, 45,