Wednesday, February 8, 2012

Beauchamp - She Wanted A Love Poem

The following poem is from the section, "Secrets" of She Wanted A Love Poem, a collection of poems.


Reverend Robert Alexander Beauchamp
Was the pastor of a little Baptist church
In a little town in Louisiana.

A tall man with a medium build
Who had a penchant for suits.
A black suit on Sundays
As he stood at the pulpit
And a seersucker affair
During the week when one
Would see him on Main Street
Going here or there.

Rev. Beauchamp was a respectable man,
A measured man,
A good man,
A good husband,
A good father,
One of the few pastors
Who actually lived
The life he preached about,
Or so the towns people thought.

Once a month,
On a weekend,
Rev. Beauchamp would be absent
From the little town
He had made his home.

Some folks speculated that
He was visiting family,
Attending a conference or
Visiting another church.

The truth was no one really knew
Where the good reverend went,
Not his congregation,
Not his good friends,
Not his children,
Not even his wife.

Once a month,
Rev. Robert Alexander Beauchamp
Disappeared and in his place
Was Bobby Beauchamp.

Once a month,
Bobby would follow the river
Down to a little town
In the bayou.

Once a month,
He would find himself
In the company of Mona Belle,
A woman the colour
Of a moonless night,
Who was as familiar to him
As he was to himself.

She would ask about
His wife and kids
And he would ask about
Her daughter,
His daughter,
Their daughter
Who knew him as Pa Bear.

In those few days,
Bobby felt at ease,
He felt at home.
In the little house
He had built,
He was not afraid
Of being himself.

The love he felt for Mona
Was not one of duty,
But something deeper,
Something real and tangible,
And he knew that
She loved him not
For his station in life,
In society, she loved him
Because he was Bobby Beauchamp.

As the years passed,
He spent more and more time
In the little house in the bayou,
Until one day, he never
Returned to the little town
Where he was the pastor.

He simply disappeared, and
As he was such an upstanding man,
The townsfolk suspected the worse,
A terrible accident
Had claimed the reverend's life.

There was a memorial service
And the family was left to grieve.
Soon time faded the memory
Of Reverend Beauchamp,
But every now and then,
His name would be mentioned.

Some cousin from another town
Thought they had seen him down river.
Someone else thought they saw him
At a college graduation, but
The only Beauchamp graduating
Was a black woman
By the name of Alexandria.

Rev. Robert Alexander Beauchamp
Had built the life
That was expected of him.
He had married a respectable woman,
He lived in a fine house
With a white picket fence,
He had three children
Who never fidgeted
As they sat in the first pew,
But the reverend was unhappy.

He was living the life
Others believed he should be living,
But the life he wanted
Included a black woman
Who loved him unconditionally
And a precocious girl
Who saw only goodness in him.

As he got older,
He realized that
It was better to live the life
You wanted than
Try to please everyone else.

So Rev. Robert Alexander Beauchamp died
So that Bobby Beauchamp may live,
So that he may love,
So that he may be the man
Bobby Beauchamp wanted to be.

To get your copy
of this collection
of poems,
click here.


Robert Gibson said...

Wow..... Man ... I LOVE THIS....

Once again, you are my griot...

This storytelling in verse is so phenomenal...

And the message - I got the message clear as day:

"As he got older,
He realized that
It was better to live the life
You wanted than
Try to please everyone else."

I'm redefining myself in the same manner ... this could have been talking about me - all I need now is the Mona ;)

But seriously, I FEEL this poem.


Buddah Moskowitz said...

Ok, Kimolisa,

the past two weeks you've written the most heart-rending, perfect stories.

Your stories have terrific pacing, great characters and wonderful, large themes of life. You are a courageous writer, and I must admit, I am envious of your talent. :)

You have quickly become a favorite of mine. Wish I was there to give you a hug, buy you a beer, or both.

Thanks for setting a wonderful standard,

Buddah Moskowitz

Kimolisa said...

Thanks for the feedback. I must say this is one of my favourite poems. It's one of those poems where the story came to me with a beginning and jumble thoughts and the end came of it's own accord.

Fayola said...

I so look forward to reading your poetry. I get excited whenever my phone pings and I see that it's a notification that you've added yet another piece of brillance to your blog. Thanks for sharing with the world.