Holly's Blues

by Margaret Flint Suter

 

Better to go lightly on that page

It has shattered glass

Among the ruined grass.

 

Move along in quick time

Past the pain markers --

Crimson dripped on navy.

 

Go lightly past the sparkling gems

That mirror failure

In multi-faceted mockery.

 

Toast to trials, hold your glass high

Beneath the fire escape, a mask worn on each landing

A life re-made at every turn.

 

Go lightly down that avenue

Where Holly's hurt spread thick fingers

Into heartache and split the muscle open.

 

Wait in the rain

For a cat that must return

Call into the alleys along the dream street.

 

Lift the lids on all the dumpsters stinking of despair

All the while sniffing hope

Under the coffee grounds.

 

Listen for the voice

Of cat calling

In return to Holly's blues.

 

Listen as his voice fades

Beneath the storm

While Holly weeps.

 

Weeps among the alley ends

Until she crumples

Mean reds flaring around her basic black life.

 

Touch the color of Holly's blues

Feel her sorrow

In pulse of neon.

 

Rain sibilant

Against your ear

Hold Holly while she weeps.

 

©Copyright 2007-2014 Margaret Flint Suter. All Rights Reserved.

Based on the book Breakfast at Tiffany's by Truman Capote and the Hollywood film starring Audrey Hepburn and George Peppard.

Read more works by Margaret Flint Suter

"Bone Music"
Published in the November 2011 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree.

"Sweetest Halloween"
Published in the October 2013 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree

"Lavender and Lilac: 'Til Death Do Us Part"
Published in the December 2013 issue of Underneath the Juniper Tree

"Balthasar's Box"
Second Place winner, Poemeleon Poetry Journal

"Redemption Box"
Runner Up, Poemeleon Poetry Journal

 

Bio: Margaret Flint Suter served her country in the U.S. Navy as a cryptologic technician. She now serves up tantalizing stories and poems to her many readers -- both children and adults. A doting mother and grandmother, Suter embraces many worthy causes that contribute to the betterment of humanity.



THE TRAIL'S END - The Story of Bonnie and Clyde

 

written by gangster Bonnie Parker

 

THE TRAIL'S END

 

You've read the story of Jesse James

of how he lived and died.

If you're still in need

of something to read,

here's the story of Bonnie and Clyde.

 

Now Bonnie and Clyde are the Barrow gang.

I'm sure you all have read

how they rob and steal;

and those who squeal,

are usually found dying and dead.

 

There's lots of untruths to these write-ups.

They're not as ruthless as that.

Their nature is raw;

they hate all the law,

the stool pigeons, spotters, and rats.

 

They call them cold-blooded killers.

They say they are heartless and mean.

But I say this with pride

that I once knew Clyde,

when he was honest and upright and clean.

 

But the law fooled around;

kept taking him down,

and locking him up in a cell.

'Til he said to me:

'I'll never be free,

so I'll meet a few of them in hell."

 

The road was so dimly lighted

there were no highway signs to guide.

But they made up their minds;

if all roads were blind,

they wouldn't give up 'til they died.

 

The road gets dimmer and dimmer.

Sometimes you can hardly see.

But it's fight man to man

and do all you can,

for they know they can never be free.

 

From heartbreak some people have suffered.

From weariness some people have died.

But take it all in all;

Our troubles are small,

'til we get like Bonnie and Clyde.

 

If a policeman is killed in Dallas

and they have no clue or guide,

if they can't find a fiend,

they just wipe their slate clean

and hang it on Bonnie and Clyde.

 

There's two crimes committed in America

not accredited to the Barrow mob.

They had no hand;

in the kidnap demand,

nor the Kansas City Depot job.

 

A newsboy once said to his buddy:

'I wish old Clyde would get jumped.

In these awful hard times,

we'd make a few dimes,

if five or six cops would get bumped.'

 

The police haven't got the report yet

but Clyde called me up today.

He said, 'Don't start any fights;

we aren't working nights,

we're joining the NRA.'

 

From Irving to West Dallas viaduct

is known as the Great Divide,

where the women are kin,

and the men are men,

and they won't 'stool' on Bonnie and Clyde.

 

If they try to act like citizens

and rent them a nice little flat,

about the third night,

they're invited to fight,

by a sub-gun's rat-tat-tat.

 

They don't think they're too smart or desperate,

they know that the law always wins.

They've been shot at before;

but they do not ignore

that death is the wages of sin.

 

Some day they'll go down together.

They'll bury them side by side.

To few it'll be grief,

to the law a relief,

but it's death for Bonnie and Clyde.

 

Bio:  Bonnie Parker was born on October 1, 1910 in Rowena, Texas. She met ex-con Clyde Barrow in January 1930 while working as a waitress. The pair instantly fell in love. Bonnie followed Clyde on a 21-month crime spree across Texas, Oklahoma, New Mexico, and Missouri, which ended in a deadly massacre at Gibsland, Louisiana on May 23, 1934.