(stella blues.)

oh, my baby, stella
you are the one that i cradle in my arms
when we can’t pay the rent
when the landlord is banging at the door
in the starlit night we just sit
on my alabama porch
and i count the stars like pennies
and you sing me a twelve bar song

oh, my baby, stella
your curves were made with intention
i met you at a pawn shop
and as soon as i saw you
pressed up against the wall
i knew i would give
a twenty-dollar gold piece
right off my watch cahin
just to have you

and you came on home with me
in the dark, dark mississippi night
and we stayed up
through the blackest of
black georgia twilight
and we talked about your skin
we laughed about the cost of everything
and i put my hand on your neck
and you took my other hand
and you pointed it up towards the north star

you spoke in rhythm
that was not lost on me
everything i said
you said right back to me
but with poetry
like an old blues song
grown from the deep south of your love

your fingertips like work songs
your field drab lips like field hollers
your wide, wide hips like spirituals

oh, my baby, stella
i take you with me everywhere i go
together we’re safe from the black rum booze
together we’re safe from these blue devil blues
when i play you like a guitar
you play me right back
and i love you for it
oh, my baby, stella
i love you for it



02.2013 is a twenty-eight day project chronicling my february of 2013 through poetry. to read the entries from the beginningΒ CLICK HERE

Author: brice maiurro

Denver poet. Author of Stupid Flowers, out now through Punch Drunk Press.

13 thoughts on “02.23”

  1. hahahahahaha oh man I did not even see it coming. Do you ever make your poems into songs Brice? You must, I mean, you have your Stella πŸ™‚ If you do I’d love to hear them!

    1. I own a guitar and I can play a couple songs, and I have an alright voice. I have a friend who’s amazing at guitar and we write songs time and again, but nothing major. I would love to. I really would. Stellas are these old guitars that blues singers used back in the 30’s. That’s what inspired the poem. I’ve been watching this 10-part documentary, Ken Burns Jazz, which I highly recommend if you have Netflix.

      1. I do have netflix! I’ll check that out πŸ™‚ If you ever do do songs, I highly recommend soundcloud- it’s so fun and people are super nice and you are probably better than you think πŸ™‚ with words like yours your songs would kick ass!

      2. Aw. Well thank you! If I can this bum of a friend of mine to be a little more motivated I think we could start a band. If you start that documentary, which I think you should, know its a long road you’re going down. Each episode is like an hour and a half long.

      3. ohh wow well I can at least try!! πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚ Thanks for the warning..now I can anticipate the overwhelm, but I’ll definitely watch an episode or two!

    1. Oh my gosh! Isn’t it? I loved especially learning about Louis Armstrong, Billie Holliday, Duke Ellington and Charlie Parker Jr. What parts did you like?

      1. I am the music nerd that loves watching documentaries detailing the production and creation of albums and ‘Jazz’ was like one big giant ‘making of’. I loved that it wasn’t just small portions of information, you got these huge meals of detail that seemd unbias and unflinching in their transparency to the tragic nature of life back then. Jazz has this affect on my soul like no other genre and I have always adored and admired Ella Fitzgerald and Miles Davis so I loved getting the full story of life at Birdland etc I also loved the tragic tales that encapsulate and store Charlie Parker and Billie Holliday in all their heart-sleeve wearing glory. As an outsider to America we get its history shoved down our throats by the media, often times it seems glorified but this had to tell the bruised belly of culture and identity and held nothing back, I appreciated that and understand it a great deal more. All in all I would watch it ad nauseum all over again.

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