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Deborah Jones


Harrisburg, PA, US

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New Orleans


Deborah Jones

The fragrance of magnolia trees
Beignets from the local bakery
And gumbo from Moliere's
Intoxicate the evening breeze
The street car channels up and down Saint Charles
As the clang clang clang of the bell seduces it's
Passengers and challenges them to a secret rendezvous
Peddelers and artist display they'r wears
And the sweet sounds from the
Musicians of Bourbon Street can be herd
The melodies from the saxophone the clarinet and the
Trombone play they're own rendition of a lovers song
All that jazz with so much pizzazz
New Orleans
The ambiance the grace the charm holds you captive
And cradles you in it's arms
Cobblestone streets made of clay and mortar
Beckon and call you by name
Just as a moth is drawn to a flame
Tourist stroll up and down the narrow streets
Wearing masks of red purple gold or green
And they take they places as if acting out a scene
From the opera La Boehme
And all will heed the call of the french quarter
With it's mirrored reflection
Of a resurrected time of ole
Full of mystery and folklore
New Orleans
Thats New Orleans

Black Woman


Deborah Jones

Am I incapable to give or recieve love
Do I dare ask for respect that is long past due me
Simply because godmade me a Black Woman
Should I wear my heart on my sleeve for all to see
Like a neon marquis as an advertised decree
That I can love
I am an embryo of Black Womanhood
With nappy hair and skin tones the colors
Of the rainbow eatrh and sun
When I am grown can I mother a child
And feel my baby deep inside my womb
As a semblance that I to can love
If I don't run a marathon and cross the
Finish line like Wilma Rudolph Jackie Joyner Kerse
And Flo-Jo did
I still can love
When I get the blues but I dont sing like
Billie Sarah or Ella did
I still can love
If I belive in justice and equality but I dont march
I to can love
If my words dont flow like the poetic prose
Of Sonya Nikki Maya and Georgia Douglas
I still can love
I still can love