Barefooted: Spontaneous Reflections of a Southern Woman

By Barbara Collins Golding

Barefooted: Spontaneous Reflections of a Southern Woman showcases bits and pieces of Golding’s life in poetry and prose. Returning to her roots, the author moves from tobacco farm life in Rockingham County into marriage, parenting and a cosmopolitan career, then glides into active retirement. The collection’s title, Barefooted, is inspired by the honesty in a line from John Greenleaf Whittier’s poem, “The Barefoot Boy,” where Whittier refers to shoes as the “prison cells of pride.”

The author’s poetry reveals both the “beauty” and the “beast” of the Southland, while her narratives reflect a distinct variety of personal experiences. Golding says, “As a mother and grandmother, my roots, career and family have provided enough fodder to reach into my heart and soul for memories to pen forever.”

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu Publishing Services
• Release date: Feb 21, 2017
• ISBN: 9781483462455

Book preview

Barbara Collins Golding

BAREFOOTED

Spontaneous Reflections

of a Southern Woman

Copyright © 2017 Barbara Collins Golding.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted by any means—whether auditory, graphic, mechanical, or electronic—without written permission of both publisher and author, except in the case of brief excerpts used in critical articles and reviews. Unauthorized reproduction of any part of this work is illegal and is punishable by law.

ISBN: 978-1-4834-6234-9 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4834-6245-5 (e)

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

Lulu Publishing Services rev. date: 03/14/2017

CONTENTS

Trees of the Piedmont

Three Seasons

Dew, Etc.

Forgotten Moisture

Freedom - A Southern Child’s View

Weather Report

Storms

A Passing

Anna

Aprons by a Designer

Baptisms

The Barnyard Stew

Ben’s Poem

Blackberries & Chiggers

Blue Birds

Blushing Child

Broken Arm, Scars, and Rober

Before I Forget

Daddy’s Farm (Sestina)

Discrimination

Do You Know Where Your Children Are?

Easter Morn Whispers to Mary

Emptiness

Birthdays

For Females Fifty and Over

Every Woman’s Wish

Femininity

Reading Morning Newspaper

"TV Host Apologizes

Naked Corner

Finally Home

Firstborn Grandson

Can I Go Back?

Glee Club and Piano Lessons

Going to Bold Run Creek

Depression Babies

Great Aunt Mollie or Madame Hancock

Madame Hancock’s Ribbons

Haiku 1

Haiku 2

Haiku 3

Moonbeams - Haiku

I Lift My Glass

Little Bit of History in the 1950’s, including First Baby

Lost Writers

March Blossoms

Brown Leaves

Charcoal Charlie, A Cat’s Tale

Meow Reunion

Bare Bear Facts

Mergers

November Concert in the Carolinas

Ode to an Artist

Ode to Debbie

Old Roosters

Burning

One Fifty Eight

Wedding Basket

Our Cow Victory

Outhouses

Pageants

Patches

Pink

Ode to Mary Lou

Preacher’s Wife

Purple

Rafting Trip

Raggedy Ann

Roadshow

Red, White and Blue

Sarah’s June Bath

Speaking for Elvis

Special Church Visitor

Spring

Penny for Your Thoughts

Strawberry Lady

Summer Visitor

That Place

The Incredible Egg

The Lonely Path

Tio

Torture

Touring Car of Long Ago

Town Vs. Country

Baby Brother

Train Ride at Christmastime

Trapped

Two Great Surgeons

Waiting Tables

Weddings

West Coast – East Coast

When We Remember

White for the Artist

Why Birds Sing

Wild and Crazy Names

What’s in a Name?

Winter Birds

Winters in North Carolina

Wish List

Withering Away

Morning Coffee with Allie

Miss Kaylie at Christmastime

Nine Lives

Regrets

Reidsville’s Tracks and Whistles

Run, Joe, Run

Sally Jane

Acorns in their Teacups

Sam’s Song, By a White Woman

October Morn

Potomac River Moon

Powdered Sugar

CREDITS

To Tom Lanier for his encouragement and editorial support, especially the exclamation point warning!

To Danny Hale of Lulu for file consolidation support in the beginning

To Eden Artist Mary Alice Collins for front cover photo

To Kelli Lennon, Photographer for back cover photo

To WGSR TV for Monument photo

DEDICATION

To my offspring, Cindylu and Layton; Grandchildren Melissa, Allie, Andrei and Brandon; Greatgrandchildren Kaylie and Colton

To honor my sisters and brother: Sara Ann, Johnnie Ruth, Mary Alice and David

To the memory of my Parents, Granddaughter Sarah and Sister Rebecca

TREES OF THE PIEDMONT

In my part of the south, sweet honeysuckle vines

grow wild. So does rhododendron. Come spring,

delicate pink redbud blossoms flood the hillsides.

The woods are full of dogwood trees arrayed in white,

surrounded by evergreens of various sizes

from scrub pines to towering trees, where you kick away

pinecones when you walk in the woods. Come fall,

Oak trees drop acorns everywhere. Here, you’ll

also find Pecan and Walnut trees.

Pesky Kudsu, everywhere.

Growing wild is the prissy Persimmon tree.

Just don’t eat its fruit ’till after frost

or you’ll wind up a dead poet.

THREE SEASONS

Tulips, jonquils, violets

Anything that tries to push through the

Hard, cold ground of February

Gets pushed back down by old man winter

Like a Mohammed Ali punch

Stopped cold by icy rain and snow.

Soon they’ll push through and burst forth

Covering the dead, brown earth with

Hues of purple, red and yellow.

DEW, ETC.

Daddy once said

Every drop of moisture

Falling from the sky

Moistens the earth and

Penetrates deep veins for our well.

When summer arrives

We will draw water from the well

For the wash pot and animal troughs

And have a cool drink from the dipper.

FORGOTTEN MOISTURE

The earth is parched and cracked

Dead grass and dying everything

Just lies there.

As day breaks

I open the door to

Fetch the morning paper

Rain falls softly.

I step outside

Lift my face and applaud

I clap my hands, and clap and clap

To the sounds of nature waking up – and rain

I clap, as if Pavarotti is serenading me.

The earth and I welcome

Forgotten moisture.

Magnificent concert.

FREEDOM - A SOUTHERN CHILD’S VIEW

Were you ever switched in the face by a

Cow’s tail while trying to milk her

Or did you roll down a grassy hill, round and round

Till drunk? Did you climb a tree and perch like a bird

Munching green apples, then get a bellyache

Or play gully bug at school? Have you pressed dead butterflies

Between waxed paper sealing it with a warm iron

Or pluck every four-leafed clover you ever saw –

If it didn’t get crushed before you got home, you pressed it

In a Bible? Have you stepped on a bumblebee, barefoot?

Did you ever catch lightening bugs in a jar on

An August evening?

How about eating tomatoes in the garden, warm and fresh

Right off the vine, with tobacco gum on your hands?

Did your Dad bust a ripe watermelon in the patch

Little hands, digging in –

Who cares if it’s not cold?

Did you and your sisters bath naked

Under the eaves during a summer shower?

Or gather warm eggs from beneath a hen –

Sometimes you’d get pecked.

Have you ever watched a baby chick peck out of its shell?

Freedom.

WEATHER REPORT

A little white cloud

Covers me

Like an umbrella

Letting enough sunshine through to

Fill my soul.

As my cloud floats away

Sunshine sustains me

I will fear no evil.

STORMS

In life, they come and go

They come in waves

In and out, in and out, in and out.

Rain has a purpose – preparing soil for planting

Or washing it away.

Filling brooks and streams, rivers and oceans

Sometimes to overflowing.

Wind too has a purpose

Soft gentle breezes to cool the brow

Strong ones to bring down dead leaves

Stronger ones to bring down trees

Or buildings.

Noah and his family of seven survived 150 days on a boat

He spent 120 years building. Noah never saw rain before

And it rained, and it rained, and it rained for forty days.

Then there was a rainbow.

A recent storm took two large trees

Eight feet from my bedroom.

My arc was safe.

Today I will not count past storms

I will celebrate rainbows and sunshine.

A PASSING

While death was approaching

Indian summer left.

They passed each other in the night.

The leaves on our trees changed

from green to brown, and fell to the ground

to be blown away by the wind

Raked or decay.

As we shed tears of grief,

we lost summer’s tan

along with our pride, selfishness

and greed.

We were not looking.

We were busy

attending our beloved child,

when Indian summer and death

passed each other.

Published Magnapoets July 2011

ANNA

I thought it was you who came between us.

I thought it was you.

You, who lure and caress men with your beauty,

Your vast body – smooth and still in the dark of night,

And wee hours of the morning.

You are restless when the winds blow,

You shimmer in the moonlight and welcome winter snows

They cover you with a blanket of white.

Soft rains swell your breasts.

You draw men toward you with their vessels.

They ride your waves and glide on your belly.

You reach into the valleys and gather stones

That keep you from going astray.

They lay like jewels around your neck

Glittering like diamonds in the sunlight.

I thought it was you who would steal him away.

Anna, it wasn’t you. Though you tease and torment,

You always free those who enjoy you.

No, Anna, it wasn’t you. You didn’t take him from me.

I’ll whisper my secret to you on the wind.

You’ll shiver. Winds above will moan and race

Through the trees that surround your shores;

Wild flowers will die; birds will fly away – in mourning,

For, he has found another love. Not you or me.

I’ll come back to you, Anna, on a different shore than before.

It may be when winter’s first snowflakes swirl softly about you.

It may be in springtime when dogwoods surrounding you blossom,

Or at summer’s beginning when you are restless for warm sunrays,

Or