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When I went off to school in Boston,

I realized why Southerners have a slower pace;

When the weather’s not so frigid out,

There is no need to race.

When the weather’s nice and toasty,

You can take time to slowly walk;

When you don’t feel you’ll freeze to death,

With your friends, you can casually talk.

Northerners don’t really know what it is,

To take a leisurely stroll;

They’re always rushing here or there,

‘Cause the weather’s just too cold.

Poet Commentary:

Southerners are always making note of and commenting on how fast Northerners walk and talk. We think it’s rather humorous..and somewhat sad (LOL) because we love our slow, leisurely, “molasses” pace and believe that you should always take time to stop and smell the roses. Ooops I forgot, in the North, they’re usually all dead from the cold. (LOL)
I’m just kidding and it’s all in fun.
Like I said, we southerners are always commenting on the fast pace of Northerners…but never really think about the reason behind it.
Well, I found the reason, first hand when I went off to school in Boston. (Boston University - Boston, Massachusetts)
My brother, Brian, was already at BU and I was preparing to go to BU.
I would always ask him questions about Boston or the school. Every conversation turned into a discussion about the weather. I thought that was very odd..because he would repeatedly tell me how cold it was.I would think “O.K. O.K already, I know what cold is… and really how cold could it be?” Well, little did I know, I DIDN’T know what cold was and it could be a lot colder than I thought. All of my trips up North (Chicago, New York,ect) had always been in the summertime ( vacations, of course)
So I was referencing cold to Mississippi winters and basing all of my assumptions on that . WRONG!!!  I’ve heard it explained,there are four seasons in Mississippi: almost summer, summer, still summer and Christmas. (LOL)
When I got to school in September, there was already a little chill in the air, again I thought that was odd. By winter, they were reporting temperatures of zero and below zero with a foot or so of snow (mind you, we let out schools in Mississippi with the mere FORECAST of snow!  This was insane! In all of this, they still expected you to function….I DIDN’T!! (LOL)
Now…. I know all about the Northerner’s pace..It is all for GOOD reason. When that wind is blowing , your nose is running like a faucet and your breath is practically freezing right in front of you…You ain’t got no time (excuse the French) (LOL) to stop and chat or do anything but nod and get where you’re going. Folks, Northerners are always rushing here and there…”Cause the weather’s just ..TOO COLD!! ”
Northerners, God Bless you all ! You can have it!
If you enjoyed this poem, you can purchase the whole book at www.reeds.ms/books.asp.

Magnolia Reflections: Southern Man

There’s nothing like a Southern man,

He’s a man that you should know;

He’s one to whom you’ll find no equal,

Anywhere you go.

He has a sweet, molasses talk

And a slow, smooth, gliding walk.

He’s got strong, firm hands that let you know,

Real work is nothing new;

He has no problem with the fact,

That he should provide for you.

There are certain kinds of values

This man is sure to hold

His love of home and family

Is sure to not grow cold.

He’ll deeply love his mother

It’s a bond that’s always there

All throughout his life this man

WIll show her tender care.

He’s one that you can count on,

To do the manly things;

He’ll change the tire and check the oil,

And fix the back yard swing.

But underneath a tough exterior,

A gentle soul lies too;

He’s one who’ll rock the baby,

And even cook a meal or two,

On Sundays he’ll sit beside you singing

On the same church pew.

There’s nothing like a Southern man,

He’s a rare and special kind;

If you look forever anywhere,

He’s the best you’ll ever find.

Poet Commentary:

Our Southern men are one of our most valuable natural resources.

What else is there to say?? If you enjoyed this poem, you can purchase the whole book at www.reeds.ms/books.asp.

Magnolia Country Cure All

If the baby has the sniffles,

Or an all-out whooping cough;

If your throat is sore or neck’s in pain,

And you need to throw it off;

If your chest is tight or or breathing’s bad

From some sort of pollution;

The answer’s simple for country folk,

There is but one solution.

Vick’s Salve is what they call it,

It’s thought to cure most anything;

It’s used for any malady,

From arthritis to bee sting,

It’s the all purpose remedy,

And one you must endure;

If you voice any type of complaint,

It’s Vick’s for you for sure.

On chest or back

Or up the nose,

Even a teaspoon or two;

Country folks believe, without a doubt,

It’ll cure what’s ailing you.

Poet’s Commentary:

A friend was voicing some complaints about arthritis pains as we were eating at a restaurant one day. I immediately said..”You know what you need..some Vicks Salve..You know old folks used to think it could cure ANYTHING”  We laughed and went into this ridiculous discourse about what Vick Salve (Vick’s Vapor Rub) could cure..we started listing all kinds of outrageous things like..heart disease, diabetes, broken arm, cancer..you name it..Vicks could cure it..(It’s sort of like the W-D-40 for the body) (Everyone knows you use W-D-40 on EVERYTHING!!)
By the time we left the restaurant , we were practically rolling on the floor with laughter.
As SOON as I got in my car, I scribbled down that poem..Country Cure (ALL)
If you enjoyed this poem, you can purchase the whole book at www.reeds.ms/books.asp.

A real country po’folk’s breakfast

Is in these days quite rare,

It’s certainly not your typical

Bacon and eggs type affair.

There’d be crispy fried chicken,

WIth all the parts there to eat;

The usual ones represented,

Plus the neck, back and feet.

There might be some country ham,

But not the thin sterile kind;

It’s the thick, salty slices

From the smokehouse you’ll find.

If you’re lucky, there’s rabbit,

From a recent hunt trip;

With juicy, brown gravy

That drips from your lips.

There would probably be rice,

With sugar and butter of course;

And big chunky biscuits

That could choke any horse.

What goes in the middle,

Is anyone’s guess;

Some molasses or syrup

Would sure pass the test.

But, most want preserves

From the cook’s vast store;

From the past summer’s canning,

In flavors galore.

The milk would be powdered,

And straight from a box;

There’s likely no juice,

’til opportunity knocks.

But, we all know one thing

That’s sure to be had;

It’s a jug full of Kool-AId,

And the flavor is

Red.

Poet Commentary:

Country folks will tell you..every kind of meat known to man is a likely candidate for a country breakfast…rabbit, squirrel,porkchops.. you name it… and, of course EVERY part of the chicken….breast, thigh, legs, neck, back, lips(beak) and feet.
A country breakfast is not a meal..it’s an experience.
It’s almost like what they say about the pig…Country folks eat every part of the pig..except the OINK (LOL) (we would eat that too if we could figure out how to cook it!) (LOL)
We eat the pig’s feet, ears, snout, tail, skin (cracklings) , intestines (chitterlings)..the whole nine yards.
I can almost see some of the readers turning blue and purple and looking totally agast!
If you enjoyed this poem, you can purchase the whole book at www.reeds.ms/books.asp.

As soon as you begin reading Patricia Neely-Dorsey’s book of poetry dedicated to her life in Mississippi, you immediately know you can’t do her lyrical rhymes the injustice of reading them silently.

Her words are meant to be read aloud, each syllable savored as they roll along your tongue. If you are not southern you will long to be in short order as you read about the Southern men, the fine Southern ladies, the Southern foods, the Southern skies and the Mississippi heat on your back. You can almost feel it as you drink in every verse.

Thank you Lord for I am only two generation removed from this Southern charm of which Neely-Dorsey speaks. My grandparents hail from the Georgia Peach. While it’s not the fragrant land of the Mississippi Magnolia, I still recall some of the memories Neely-Dorsey offers her readers as a treat.

Patricia Neely-Dorsey’s poetry reminds me of a chap book I stumbled upon in a public reading room. It was not a bestseller and its cover wasn’t glossy, as a matter of fact the clerk said I could have it. I was nine and I read that poetry book from cover to cover. I laughed and I cried. I cherished that book for years. Now that book has a companion in Patricia Neely-Dorsey’s Reflections of a Mississippi Magnolia: A Life in Poems. A volume, I’m glad she shares with us. The volume of audible candy earns 5/5 Sable Seals of approval.

Publisher: Grant House Publishers

Price: $15.00

Format: Print

As a special treat, I will be posting some of my favorite Neely-Dorsey poems all week long, but today is truly special as you will get to hear the Poet read her signature poem Southern Life… Please click below:

Author statement:
There are so many negative connotations associated with Mississippi and the south in general. I want to show a flip side of  the coin. There is much to love about this much maligned and misunderstood part of our country. In my book, I attempt to give a positive glimpse into the southern way of life.
If you enjoyed this poem, you can purchase the whole book at www.reeds.ms/books.asp.