DIANE CAMERON’S COLLECTION OF POETRY & SHORT STORIES #1

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MY FIRST BEST FRIEND BY DIANE CAMERON

© Eddie Bear Publishing

My Spirit smiled at the thought of you today I was remembering something you said many years ago

We were in the park sipping cold tea Planning our day and our future

Life was just beginning for us We were best friends

We collected rocks and Pretended they were diamonds

We made a pact And promised to always remain close

You moved away five years and two kids later

The calls and cards arrived less and less Different paths and different places

Your face became a memory

Still I never forgot your heart Life is full of challenges You made other friends You gave them advice

They listened And promised to oblige

I can still feel the pain of hearing the news of your mom

After all…she was like a mother to me It was on the front page The news of her accident

Life wasn’t always easy for her But she was your mom

I can still taste her good cooking Life never took away her smile

The whole neighborhood were her children She gave us all advice

We listened and felt better

You told me you were going to “become a star” I kept up with your career through the years

The first black female to do this and that..wow! Sometimes though the tabloids

weren’t so kind… Reporting your divorces and such

But you seemed so strong I never forgot your determination

Life never stripped you of your song All your classmates admired your beauty We never cared about the media gossip

We read it But we didn’t care

And I stopped reading them period!

I was standing in the kitchen Reading to my grandchildren

When the reporter announced your name She said a singer died today

Just like that…and yet.. The news stung my ears like a bullet

Tears covered my face and I instantly regretted All the calls I never made

At least the newspapers said you were An International Singer

The radio echoed the same accolade Damn that lady reporter…no respect

My mind took me back to those times in the park Where we planned our days and our future

I remembered your beauty and fearlessness For you…the rocks did turn into diamonds

I promise…I will always cherish The memory of my first best friend

RACHEL’S SILENCE BY DIANE CAMERON

© Eddie Bear Publishing

"A voice was heard in Ramah, lamentation, weeping and great mourning, Rachel weeping for her children; she wouldn't be comforted, because they are no more." (Matthew 2:18)

Rachel...........arise

Can you not feel the pain? Africa Cries...

And we are to blame from oceans to villages the needs are the same your cries are now quiet

and silence remains.

In the harshest of days of times gone by

we spoke to the rivers…… And dared them to dry We sang to the fields Commanded the fire

To cook in the daylight And warmth in the night

Dazed in our slumber

Drunk in our rest Abandon consumes us

Complacent at best Other birds are feeding

The eggs in our nest Sarah’s children are nursing

From Hagar’s breast…..

Wake up Diaspora…. Heed eyes and ears

to the cries of our people to the sound of their tears

lest unto Africa the message we send

is we're now the stranger and the strangers’…the friend….

Diaspora…..….arise Are you not concerned?

Africa’s' calling our backs we have turned

Dazed in our slumber Drunk in our rest

Sarah’s children are nursing From Hagar’s breast….. Our children are nursing

.....Not from our breast…..

THANK YOU (ODE TO A FORMER ROMANCE) BY DIANE CAMERON

© Eddie Bear Publishing

I Am Going Where Opportunities Await You paved the way - you opened the gate

You showed me how to rise and run You taught me how to chase the sun

Thank you for every mile driven Thank you for every cent given

Thank you for your patience tried Thank you for a wonderful ride

I wasn't easy to understand

You showed me how to trust your hand I know at times you wished to stop

But persevered against those thoughts

Thank you for every mile driven Thank you for every cent given

Though bittersweet are loves goodbyes You patched my wings now I can fly

MAN ON A TRAIN BY DIANE CAMERON

© Eddie Bear Publishing

I saw you sitting on the subway train or you caught my eye

you gently smiled and I looked away But you stayed on my mind

did you go to the arms of a lover?

Did you go to the house of a friend? Did you go to another city Will I ever see you again?

They called your stop and you stood to leave

I felt you staring my way A wave of shyness came over me and you went on with your day

did you go to the arms of a lover?

Did you go to the house of a friend? Did you go to another city Will I ever see you again?

Where did you go? Where could you be Where are you now?

Have you thought about me? Companion song “Man on a train” can be heard at www.myspace.com/dianecameron

THE RED SCARF

BY DIANE CAMERON © Eddie Bear Publishing

It was the night of the holiday party.... A little more champagne than he usually drank and closer to midnight than he was accustomed to being up. Just a hair over excess depending on who you were to ask. He was in the majority and would have easily been forgiven by a

jury of his peers. Midnight came, a toast, a prayer, a promise and a swear.... all would soon be forgotten. All but that red chiffon scarf. For it wrapped around one of the most gorgeous

creatures he had ever laid eyes on. Being quite handsome himself, he tried to appear as if he wasn't really noticing her....it was

to no avail. He worked the room stopping to make small talk here and there and like magnetism... his eyes couldn't stop watching this mysterious African princess. Even though

she seemed to not be aware of his presence that did not deter him from continuing his stare. She moved like a gazelle and her beauty rivaled the actress Marpessa Dawn in the

movie Black Orpheus. The red scarf draped over her feminine perfection protectively and for the first time in his life he found himself jealous of a scarf. It was tied to perfection and

made of fabric that shouted femininity. Must have been manufactured in Heaven...surely no earthly fabric would qualify.

Midnight came, the click...click... click of glasses toasting reminded him of how late it was. He went to the coat closet to retrieve his wrap. As he was leaving, he looked around again for the Nubian angel and she was gone. He thanked the party host and headed for his car. After letting the engine warm for a minute he sped off for home. Reaching into his pocket for his driving gloves he discovered......... the red scarf...there is a God....he thought...and she was one of his angels. A card wrapped inside the scarf contained a phone number and

message. It read:

Your Secret Admirer - Call me tomorrow.... Ruby.........He smiled all the way home

THE GOOD OLD DAZE

BY DIANE CAMERON © Eddie Bear Publishing

Every generation blames the one before" or so declares songwriter Mike Rutherford in his 80's hit "The Living Years". All it takes is just five minutes alone with one of our dear folks of the senior persuasion, and we are introduced to a laundry list of what is wrong with the current generation as compared to how is used to be in the "good old days". This fascination with nostalgia is evident in just about every industry. Examples; vintage clothing, classic cars, golden oldies, retro furnishings...and so on. Times gone by are spoken of and about with such a reverence equaled to Dorothy’s yearning to go back to Kansas after discovering Oz were only an illusion. We spend our first 12 years of life anxiously waiting to be a "teenager", only to discover we are still too young to participate in quite a few offerings of life. Marching on, we passionately desire to be 18...thinking Ah Ha! finally I have reached that magic age.....and

NOW I can live on our own as an adult far away from the advice,... unsolicited and unappreciated of well meaning adults.....only to discover it wasn't nirvana either. Suddenly, after capping 39...we start hiding years and decades later we find ourselves reminiscent....wishing for our"good" old days". Well...........When did these days arrive? We should be grateful for every moment we are allowed to breathe God's air? I remember the anticipation that hung over me when I was 15 waiting to be sixteen. 16 was the age mandated by my parents where I would be old enough to date. I spent the entire 16th year of my life waiting for some popular football star or at worst a shy bookworm nerd to ask me out.......the invitation never came till I was 17. "What a waste of a year", I thought... If we are not careful our "good old days" can actually be the "good old daze" where we live out life in a blur of unrealistic anticipations and regrets, rushing through our life journey, bemoaning the lifestyle, music and dress choices of the current younger generation with unfair comparisons. Right now where you are no matter your age or circumstance....Every day you are alive.....you are creating and living your future "Good Old Days". Make 'em worth talking about in preparation for when the time comes for your story to be told.

BARBARA & GLADYS & MARGARET – OH MY!! BY DIANE CAMERON

© Eddie Bear Publishing The other day I received a letter. Now some of you may be saying…ok…Go on… but I had to stop for a moment and ponder on the impact this letter had on me. After all I am still a little shaken up. It was totally unrequested, definitely unappreciated and by my own standards….unwarranted. It was a letter from AARP. Pulling the envelope from my mailbox I looked at the mail in horror! “How did they get my name” I screamed. “Is this some cruel joke? I sang in the church choir for three months…how could this happen to me?” This was clearly a case of identity theft. I visualized a toothless grey haired troll, the hater of all things young peering thru a dusty box of birth certificates, rubbing knotted hands together looking at its watch” exclaiming “AHA! another one bites the dust. She’s finally made it” sealing the envelope, dropping it in the mail bin and going for the next victim. Now don’t get me wrong, I am aging gracefully, or am I? Now I was hesitant about taking the memento from the table of my last class reunion. Do you blame me? I was not about to carry around a bag declaring the date of my entrance and graduation from High School. And the gifts inside? Ha! Some “gifts”…. A coupon for Depends, a free trial size of Polident and a pair of tweezers guaranteed to eliminate nose hair without pain. The class colors were resplendently displayed on each table with the only drawback being the placemats on each dinner table contained instructions for the Heimlich Method. Finally, the “In Memoriam” moment of silence came with the committee naming each classmate who had gone on. This lasted for nearly 35 minutes (567 to now 94) I repented and reevaluated that tote bag and decided to take it with me anyway, after all, I could still carry it inside out where the dates weren’t so visible.

It’s very subtle, this aging thing and it affects your total being. Take the internet. I get several emails a day and have for a few years. Lately, I have received the same one from at least 10 different sources detailing the warning signs of a stroke or heart attack. Now I am not so callous and unappreciative of these notices from well meaning friends but is there anyone out there in cyber land who can send an email announcing the new arrivals at Victoria’s Secret? Am I approaching that age where the only man who will look at me is the doctor? If this is so make it quick and painless and when I get to the Pearly Gates. I’ll let them know it was by request and not to hold you responsible for the act. I guess the most blaring sign of “climbing the hill” is there are no twenty-something’s or even thirty-something’s with your same name. Can someone tell me when was the last time you read the birth announcements and discovered little Barbara or Gladys or Margaret was just born? Come on…it has to be someone out there who appreciates a classic name. All the names of young women today conjure up images of vamps and Lolita’s. Even if you are ecstatic over the divorce ladies, it is a little disarming learning your ex-husband of 35 years has a new bride named Shenika. Or your husband’s faithful secretary Madge finally retires….only to be replaced by Caitlin. Weren’t there any Louise’s who were available for marriage? Aren’t there any Gertrude’s who can type? Enough of my whining…already. I need to go so I can write my thank you notes for all the lovely birthday presents I received. What a bevy of wonderful gifts they were. A free year’s subscription to Panic Alert, a service where I push a button that will send help to anywhere I am in case I fall and can’t get up. A pair of gardening gloves complete with matching straw hat, an 18 hour bra (I guess that is about how long it can work against gravity….after 18 hours it turns into an apron). Finally a free pass courtesy of my best friends, Barbara, Gladys and Margaret for the next Chippendales show. All ladies showing their AARP cards get a free autographed picture. So at midnight, wearing dark glasses and straw hat with no one looking, I took the application from my reunion tote bag, secretly dropped it in the mailbox and quickly returned home.

Copyright © Eddie Bear Publishing 2003-2009. All rights reserved. This story may not be reproduced or redistributed without written permission from the author Diane

Cameron usaartistobenin@aol.com Eddie Bear Publishing © rights reserved.