Belinda From Biloxi
I saw Belinda from Biloxi three or four seats ahead,
With her red hair still piled high on top of her head,
As the subway shuddered onward she seemed so much at ease,
And just like twenty years ago she always showed her knees.
Her skin was fair and freckled and she had that haughty air,
Of someone who caught a millionaire and was barely aware,
Of the guys who kept glancing over in her direction,
Some who looked stupid glaring at her perfection.
Of course she didn't recognized me; I had grown old.
As I tried to remember and let my memory banks unfold,
To the first time that I met her when she casually did admit,
That her husband was in jail for doing a mafia hit.
She said she was an American and only here for a while,
I could tell by her accent, she had lots of Southern style,
Though she left me mesmerized, I still had to pretend,
I wasn't tempted by her charms; I had business to attend.
I wrote my police report, which I immediately did ignore,
But I sure remember Belinda and everything that she wore,
And then I found that half the division knew her by name,
And each lowered his voice and whispered as in shame.
The next time that I saw Belinda, into court she did walk.
She sat right before the judge with those legs that could talk.
And then her probation officer; it was obviously prearranged,
Gave evidence for an hour ‘bout how she had changed.
And then the judge let her walk and watched her as she left,
Can't remember the charge; was it prostitution or theft?
We all looked disappointed as she walked out the door,
As if someone should run after her; invite her back for more.
The next time that I saw her, it was quite a surprise,
She was living in welfare housing with the cockroaches and the flies,
She was pushing a baby carriage and seemed so domesticated,
Good I thought she met a man and now she's dedicated.
Monique was her daughter's name and I watched them through the years,
You could never forget Belinda whenever she appears,
Her little girl grew up beside her and she had the same physique,
Is that little girl four rows ahead Belinda or Monique?
James Bredin's Other Poems
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (Belinda From Biloxi by James Bredin )
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
A Dream Within A Dream
Edgar Allan Poe
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(26 November 1731 – 25 April 1800)
Paul Laurence Dunbar
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
- Still I Rise, Maya Angelou
- Phenomenal Woman, Maya Angelou
- If, Rudyard Kipling
- If You Forget Me, Pablo Neruda
- Dreams, Langston Hughes
- Daffodils, William Wordsworth
- The Road Not Taken, Robert Frost
- Warning, Jenny Joseph
- I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings, Maya Angelou
- Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep, Mary Elizabeth Frye