I Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans

I wrote the following poem, "I Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans", prior to the recent tragedy that struck there. It was just a few months ago that my girlfriend, Toni, and I spent a week there and I was inspired to write this poem shortly afterwards as a homage to the great time we had there. And a couple of months later is when Katrina hit, so the poem seems to have a greater meaning, given the circumstances, and so I print it here, and hope that people will feel what I feel about this wonderful city that will hopefully be reborn, like the phoenix from the ashes. Viva New Orleans!





I Know What It Means To Miss New Orleans



French Quarter
Bourbon Street and cool jazz
Cheap beer, 7 & 7’s,
And hot sex in
Third story hotel window.
Dive bars and cable cars
Beads, blues, and voodoo
And Kermit Ruffin,
A modern-day Satchmo,
Tearin’ it up
At the Blue Nile.

Everybody tryin’
To make a buck or two;
Some of them tryin’
To take a buck from you;
Sometimes, we say,
‘What the fuck?’—
voodoo!
Night is day
And day never seems to end.
What happens here,
Doesn’t necessarily
Have to stay here,
For you have to take
Your memories with you
When you check out.
You don’t have to leave,
But if you do stay,
It’s gonna cost you
More than you know,
More than you know.


© Copyright 2005 Joseph Powell