"A Little Black Dress" (Poetry and Fiction - Just "One Word" Away)

http://spillwords.com/author/phyllispcolucci/      

https://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-P.-Colucci/e/B00VMU8B44

(Photos From Pinterest)

 

“A Little Black Dress”

 

There was a story I was told

   By an Uncle, long ago

About my loving Grandmother

A story I didn’t know

 

In the early 1900s

She had a special job

She was asked to be a “Mourner”

Although I listened, I found this odd

 

As a paid “Mourner”, at a stranger’s funeral

She would wail, she would cry; and I now ask “Why?”

For someone she didn’t know?

   In exchange for a bag of coal?

      To heat her home and cook her food?

        To protect her growing brood?

           

My Uncle, himself, was just a child

He had three other brothers, including my Dad

There was his baby sister too –

My Grandfather; My Grandmother

And this story that made me so sad

 

About that “Little Black Dress”

All the children knew so well

It hung outside the old closet

  that had that cedar smell

 

They knew Grandmother would be heading out for the night

To perform a duty that literally brought home light

…Too young to fully understand…

Even I was confused, as I reached out for my Uncle’s hand

Begging him to further explain

As my cheek did bear one lonely tear stain

 

But before he told me this full story

    With all of its proud, yet humble glory

- About my Grandmother “Mourning - for Coal”

- About my Grandmother in those days of ol’…

He simply mentioned her “Little Black Dress”

   The one on the hanger that caused this mess

   The one she wore when she stepped out for the night

   The one that caused so much fright!

 

I thought, “How could this be?”

Was Grandmother really “A Lady of the Night”?

   In a “Little Black Dress” that caused so much fright?

My God, did Grandmother abandon her family?

    to engage in something unmannerly?

Was she looking for lust; was she looking for money?

Was she looking for a taste of carnal honey?

Poor Grandfather! My poor Dad, Uncles and sweet Aunt…

My heart stopped as I listened some more!

Oh my God! I just can’t!

 

I thought, “No! Not my loving Grandmother !”

Not this sweet Italian lady

   who made the finest meat and gravy

She would never be a “Lady of the Night”

To me, my Grandmother was a “heroine”;

   strong and so very bright

 

Then my Uncle finished up his story

   and I was very glad he did…

I soon learned Grandmother was a courageous woman,

  battling the weather and fearing the darkness

Yet performed a duty - Yes, that she surely did!

 

Truth be told, she was indeed a “Lady of the Night”

Loved, respected and revered - to her family’s delight

A beautiful woman, wearing a “Little Black Dress”

Who wailed and cried for a stranger

   Performing her task, more or less

 

A sign of the times, when very little was had

A sign of the times, that would make anyone mad

A sign of the times, which turned women into warriors

A sign of the times, that turned plain into glorious

Yes – just a wail, a bag of coal, and a “Little Black Dress”

   To my wonderful Grandmother – Much Love and God Bless!

 

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: 

          The above poem is a true story as told to me by one of my paternal Uncles, about his Mom and my Grandmother. This seemed to be a common occurrence in the early 1900s, and perhaps even in the late 1800s and before. I found this story intriguing as well as historical. It was a great story about my Grandmother, who performed a selfless act in order to care for and protect her family; it was also a story about a time in history I would never have known about if it weren’t for my Uncle, who shared it one day while we were simply talking over a meal at his dining room table. This was a wonderful treat for me. I will cherish this moment and this story forever. It is part of my family history.

 

"You Must Believe" (Spillwords Press Christmas Theme, 2024)

 

http://spillwords.com/author/phyllispcolucci/      

https://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-P.-Colucci/e/B00VMU8B44

 

 

 

 “You Must Believe”

 

Yuletide Spirits from long ago

Came tapping at my door

I welcomed them with open arms

As they shuffled ‘cross my floor

 

They brought wreaths of gold

And silver stars

Cinnamon sticks in cookie jars

Garland made of holly and love

A Christmas ornament of a White Dove

 

They decorated my home with tons of glee

Dancing around my Christmas tree

They did not speak as I hoped they would

So I just smiled as best I could

I left them to pleasantly “haunt” my house

While I retired upstairs like a quiet little mouse

 

I wrapped myself up in my Christmas duvet

And listened joyfully to the “Nutcracker” Ballet

While Yuletide Spirits from long ago

Kept the magic of Christmas all aglow

 

I soon fell into slumber on this Christmas Eve

As they whispered sweetly, “You must believe!”

The snow fell softly throughout the night

I woke up to white mounds of pure delight

 

I followed the scent of cinnamon and pine

Down the stairs! What a magical find!

A holiday table set for a family of nine

A turkey in the oven and large bottles of wine

Christmas Carols playing on an old radio

Presents all wrapped and ready to go

The fireplace radiant with its amber glow

I had no idea, how was I to know?

 

My red velvet dress was set out for a Queen

I cried as I embraced this exquisite scene

I hurriedly dressed for Christmas Day

My Yuletide Spirits paved the way

 

My doorbell rang quite loud this year

My family arrived with Christmas Cheer

… I can hear the Spirits from this past Eve

Whispering sweetly, “You must believe!”

Poetry and Fiction – Just “One Word” Away (Poe)

http://spillwords.com/author/phyllispcolucci/      

https://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-P.-Colucci/e/B00VMU8B44

               

             One word becomes one idea, becomes one sentence, becomes one poem, becomes one story. It must start from just “one word”.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: This piece is a bit of “Flash Fiction”, focusing on a young woman’s wish and desire to meet the strange, incomparable and very talented writer, Mr. Edgar Allan Poe. If you wish hard enough, even the impossible may be possible.                    

 

“Poe”

             One day while visiting a local storefront Fortune Teller, just for fun of course, I became entwined in a magical web that led me down a path I had never travelled before. This Fortune Teller, who called herself  Ms. Silvia, looked into her crystal ball and said, “Oh my dear young lady, please tell me, what is your wish? I see that there is something very special you have been yearning for. Tell me. I want to hear you speak your desire. I can grant you your wish, but you must speak it loudly to the spirits of the universe. My crystal ball is showing me a strange gentleman of the arts whom you have a strong desire to meet.”

 

            I was dumbfounded. I was speechless; but I was curious. I knew immediately what and who she was talking about. Could this be real? Can she grant me my special wish, my true desire? She asked me again, “Young lady, what do you desire? Please tell me your wish. Is it to meet this gentleman of the arts?” I stared deeply into her large dark brown eyes and replied, “Yes ma’am. My wish and my desire is to meet the one and only Edgar Allan Poe. A writer of the most intriguing poems and short stories I have ever read. He is a master of mystery and the macabre. I would love to have a conversation with him.”

 

            Ms. Silvia said, “Give me your hand, dear.” She placed my hand on top of her crystal ball and said, “Your wish has been granted, my friend. Go in peace.” I handed her the twenty dollars she charged for a reading and said, “Really Ms. Silvia? Is that it? Go in Peace? Forgive me for saying this, but you are just like any other Fortune Teller. You just take the money and run. Will you be here tomorrow? The next day? The next? I doubt it. You will probably pick up, disappear and set up shop somewhere else, leaving fools like me feeling used and abused by your scam… Have a good day, Ms. Silvia. Thanks for the entertainment. I won’t be back.” Ms. Silvia just smiled at me and said, “Be patient my dear. You must believe in your heart, even if your mind tells you not to. You will come back to thank me. I will see you very soon, dear.” I laughed at her as I shook my head in annoyance, and left her little shop.

 

            As I walked through the park to make my way home, I heard footsteps behind me. I picked up my pace out of fear, in hopes the stranger at my back would pass me by without incident…and he did; but he took a seat on the old wooden park bench outside the doggie park. I quickly walked past, without making eye contact, when he said, “Excuse me Miss, I am new in the neighborhood, and I was just wondering if you would be kind enough to direct me to the nearest café. If you would like to join me, I would gladly buy you a cup of coffee for your time.”

 

            I was startled, but I approached the bench. I knew nothing bad would happen in this crowded park. This gentleman seemed kind enough. He looked a bit “outdated” in his attire and mannerisms, yet he was quite sincere. He introduced himself to me as “Mr. Poe”.  He told me he was a writer. He was dressed in black with a black cape over his shoulders. He had dark hair and a mustache, and his dark eyes were mystifying. He reeled me in with a stare, and I wanted to know more about him. I suddenly felt weak. Could Ms. Silvia have granted me my wish? Was she genuine? This was surreal… I politely responded that my name was Carol and I was delighted to make his acquaintance. He got up from the bench, offered his arm, and together we strolled to the café two blocks down from the park.

 

            Over coffee, we discovered we both shared a great love of poetry and short stories. We discussed “The Raven”, “Annabel Lee”, “The Pit and the Pendulum”, “The Cask of Amontillado”, and so much more. Oh my God. I knew it was him. He gave me detailed information on how each poem and short story was created. Then he pulled out a leather-bound book from his tattered satchel, titled “The Complete Tales and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe”. Inside he wrote – “To My Dearest Carol. Thank You for today. Please enjoy this book. Eternally yours, Edgar.” He handed me the book, got up from his seat, kissed my cheek, walked out of the café, and disappeared into the afternoon sunlight. I didn’t have a chance to say goodbye. I just placed my hand on my cheek, exactly where he kissed me, and felt electrified. Something magical, and much bigger than myself, just happened to me…I was already missing this strange man, who lived in another time and another place, many years ago. 

 

            …I stared and stared after him, hoping to catch a last glimpse of the Man I now share a literary love affair with; but he was gone. My heart was pounding. I was forever grateful that I had been given this wondrous opportunity to meet the great Edgar Allan Poe, and to have spent a bit of time with him. A teardrop fell from my eye onto the book. I realized from this moment on that Edgar and I were connected forever. This encounter would transcend time, and I knew in my heart Edgar and I would meet again one day; if not in this life, perhaps in the next… I left the café with a bittersweet heart and headed over to see Ms. Silvia. She was certainly correct in saying I would be back to thank her. I truly needed to apologize to her for not believing in her and for speaking so harshly to her when I left her shop. So that’s just what I did. I heard the footsteps again, and I felt the spirit of Mr. Poe behind me. Together we headed over to visit Ms. Silvia – me and the marvelous Mr. Edgar Allan Poe.

"A STROLL THROUGH THE GRAVEYARD THIS HALLOWEEN NIGHT" (SPILLWORDS PRESS HALLOWEEN THEME - 2024)

   

http://spillwords.com/author/phyllispcolucci/      

https://www.amazon.com/Phyllis-P.-Colucci/e/B00VMU8B44

 

          (Pinterest Photo)

                                                                    (Pinterest Photo)

                       "A STROLL THROUGH THE GRAVEYARD THIS HALLOWEEN NIGHT"

             Yes, we did the unimaginable tonight. We took that frightful stroll we vowed we would never do - until now, that is…Yes, my very dear friend and I, arm in arm, house by house, pumpkin by pumpkin, witch by witch, ghost by ghost; we walked past it all. We were on our way to the dark abyss to visit the macabre where strange things happen on Halloween Night. As apprehensive as we felt, we were still quite eager to fully embrace this, and tempt fate; and that we did, my friends.

             Bright orange lights illuminated the cobblestone streets, and ignited the unkempt lawns and grossly cracked sidewalks. Ghostly shadows came to life as they danced in the moonlight...Eerie voices hummed in the distance, echoed in the night air, and bounced off the face of the full moon. Children were dressed in Halloween style, laughing their way deep into their trick-or-treat bags, snacking on sweets galore…So innocent, yet so chilling. A paradox of emotions danced in our heads this Halloween Night.

             We stopped at the graveyard gate (the place we vowed we would never go). It was unlocked and it squeaked from age as it swung back and forth, badgered by the chilling Autumn winds. Should we or shouldn’t we?  - Why not?  It’s Halloween night. Let’s do this! So as dusk settled in all around us, and blanketed my friend and me with its cold wretched hands, we welcomed it. It was all part of our journey this Halloween night…Something sinister invited us to enter the graveyard. So, courageously, we pushed open the unlocked, squeaking gate, decayed from age, and we stepped inside this ancient graveyard. We kicked our way through the crisp, crackling leaves beneath our feet in order to clear a path to somewhere.

             The towering tombstones were huge and not very welcoming. They cast their dark shadows upon the ground below, as some tilted left, some tilted right, others tilted backward, and others tilted forward. They were decrepit, intimidating and relentless. They begged for a way to come up out of the ground where they’ve been imprisoned for centuries. They wanted to be free to exist like my friend and I, like all humanity, but they were destined to remain in their darkened abode; their final destination. They were inanimate “stone guards”, assigned to watch over the souls of the dead for eternity. These weeping angels and gothic vultures were watching us watch them. We stared at these stone structures in disbelief, as they stared back wanting to speak. We did not want to wait around in case that happened. We did not want to hear a moan or a groan from these “stone guards”.

           …My friend and I just kept moving. We feared if we did not move fast enough, we might suffer the same existence as those towering tombstones. Anything can happen on Halloween night. So we continued to walk briskly, guided by the light from an unsmiling moon; each footstep in sync to the sound of crisp autumn leaves and graveyard debris beneath our feet. We were tormented by the growing shadows from the friendless tombstones on despondent graves, as we continued along our way…Such old graves, such lonely and forgotten souls. How melancholy and heartbreaking. They were all as old as the centuries, from long ago, and we felt their pain tug at our heartstrings. We whispered a prayer this Halloween night; a prayer for “them” and a prayer for “us”, in hopes we would make it out of this ancient graveyard unscathed, with our souls intact.

             Still haunted by each lonely grave, our curiosity gave us the strength and stamina to go on. Yes, my friends, we were frightened as frightened can be…until we heard a party going on. It sounded like a joyful Halloween Party occurring in the old Church on the graveyard grounds. This brought us great comfort as we headed toward that old Church.

             We could see through the church windows, the black silhouettes of men dressed in top hats and women dressed with flowing gowns. They danced about with such class and grace; which left us wondering who these people were. Since we were a bit tired and somewhat scared, we wanted human interaction on this Halloween night instead of ghostly cries from beyond the grave. So, yes…My friend and I walked up those few wooden steps to the front door of the old Church and entered with glee.

             We were greeted by a beautiful woman dressed in a black and purple witch’s costume, who handed us each a glass of champagne with a smile. She was stunning, she was kind, and we felt so at ease. Surprisingly, we were going to a Halloween Party this Halloween night…She invited us inside, and we immediately accepted. She was quite friendly and hospitable. She told us to head down the aisle of this old Church, to the altar, and sign in as her guests with the gentleman who seemed to be waiting for us. He was dressed in a devil’s costume, the best I had ever seen. The material was exquisite and he wore it to perfection. If I didn’t know better, I believe he could have passed for Satan himself…but no – not in this old Church. How ungodly would that be? This was simply a strange party in an old church, in an ancient graveyard on Halloween night, of course.

             So we walked over to him, as we were told to do, and he stamped our hands with orange ink that read “Happy Halloween 666”. His smile was a bit terrifying…Ugh! That is the devil’s number, the anti-Christ. Something did not feel right. My friend and I looked at each other and decided this was all “ungodly” and it was time to go. However, “Mr. Lucifer” in costume, and in no uncertain terms, said, “Oh you cannot leave without checking out. Anyone who checks in, must check out.” So he handed us each a checkout ticket, and instructed us to follow the road out front, which would lead us to our destination, where we may check out. He gave us both a wicked and icy kiss on our cheeks that left us cold, and we flew out of the old Church like two bats out of hell. The beautiful and stunning woman dressed in the witch’s costume, who greeted us at the front door of the old Church with two glasses of champagne, and who we thought was so wonderful, kind and hospitable, laughed with insanity as we made our way past her. Her laughter rang in our ears. It was ghastly, my friends.

           So, as my dear friend and I exited the old Church and headed for the road that would lead us away from this devil’s lair, we became confused, scared and breathless. Fear had set in and we had no idea what our destination would be. All we knew was we must walk this road “Mr. Lucifer” in costume instructed us to do, and hope for the best. So we walked and walked until we could walk no more. We reached a dead end, and we were lost in darkness. Chilling echoes from the voices of the dead tormented us as we stumbled about.

             We then came across two square tombstones that looked fairly new; as if they were recently placed there. They were the only two tombstones illuminated by the eerie moonlight. All else was completely dark. This was quite strange to see in this ancient graveyard. So we walked closer to the tombstones in order to see what was written on them, in hopes there might be a hint to an escape for us. Instead, we were confronted with a Halloween horror. The tombstone on the left had my name on it with date of death October 31, 2024. The tombstone on the right had my friend’s name on it with date of death October 31, 2024…Oh No! That is tonight. Halloween Night! This can’t be…So hand in hand we ran. We ran as fast as we could. We ran as fast as lightning! We both lost our shoes, and found ourselves sinking in mud with every step. Suddenly, we fell into what seemed like a sinkhole. We were dropping so fast we couldn’t breathe. It was like being tossed about in a wind tunnel, in free fall. It was bottomless! We had no control. Our destiny awaited us. We had to succumb to the inevitable.

             We were still holding hands, ever so tightly, afraid to let go…as we continued to fall…fall…fall… deeper into the unknown…deeper into the Gates of Hell on this Halloween night…It was so cold, so wet, so dark and so unending…we both closed our eyes tightly, and awaited a harsh, painful end; courtesy of “Mr. Lucifer”...Suddenly, before we hit bottom, a ray of light shone upon us. We looked at each other in amazement and embraced one another as our feet softly touched the ground. By the grace of God, we were spared, my friends! We were safe and sound and eternally grateful for this miraculous blessing.

           …Oh my God! My bedroom alarm went off. Was this all a trick or a treat? No, it was just a dream; a Halloween Dream I will never forget. My friend and I made it through a perilous Halloween stroll through an ancient graveyard of sorts, and we actually survived. This was something we vowed we would never do…and now more than ever it is a promise we will keep… Well, I guess the “trick” was on “Mr. Lucifer” who we outsmarted somehow on this Halloween night. Since this was my dream, and my dream alone, I must phone my friend today and tell her all about our stroll through an ancient graveyard last night…that crazy “something” we always talked about, yet vowed we would never do. It was quite a journey. As they say, “We’ve been to hell and back!” Happy Halloween All…