By Kyla McCall
With Love, From Gladys
Please don’t hate me daughter,
I did the best I could.
I truly wanted to love you
Like any mother would.
When I first laid eyes on you,
You were a gorgeous baby girl.
But I was scared for our future
For I was alone in the world.
I had to make money
To buy us a real home.
I sent you to someone else
So you wouldn’t be alone.
I finally bought our house
With a nice, white piano.
You finally came to live with me;
I liked watching you grow.
But being a single mother
In the thirties was tough.
No one had any money,
Surviving was simply too rough.
The bank stole our house,
And they were so unkind.
When they took it away from me,
Something happened to my mind.
I quickly lost everything —
The house, car, my little girl.
I couldn’t take it anymore,
I felt my sanity unfurl.
They put me in a home
Where I was treated even worse.
I begged God to relieve me
From this awful curse.
But I continued to watch you,
Though it was from afar.
I was so proud to learn
You became a movie star.
I know you were ashamed
Of the mother you had.
I never meant to hurt you.
I didn’t want you to be sad.
Then came that horrid day,
And all I did was cry;
When I learned that you were gone —
The day my baby died.
I really did love you
Like a good mother should.
So please don’t hate me daughter,
I tried the best I could.
To Marilyn Monroe
A Rose that Never Died
She wore pink
she wore white
she wore diamonds, pearls, jewelry in her head
she smiled, she had red lips all the time
her hair was always platinum blond.
She had pins in her hats
she had millions of shoes
she had more fur coats than store to put them in
she had perfumes
she had, silk sheets
pillows so soft, you never needed a sleeping pill
she had it all, a mirror that seemed as big as the sky
and so much make-up that one could have spend
one good month
in her room and never tired of looking at all the bottles of cream, perfume,
hair brushes, and much more
Her drawers, were full of silky stuff, and it was so easy to mess it all up
Then Miss Monroe, looked as if one more stroke of mascara, running down her
cheeks instead of staying on her eyelash, until she said, oh well it is not a
Then her sunglasses, her scarf, her keys, her raincoat, her brown one, please
that is the one I want.
She wanted brown, she wanted brown,
she wanted to be buried under ground
So much kisses, so much love she had
but to herself she was nothing but a clown
So the little thing crawling around would get the giggles and the biggest hugs
but then the tears would start to roll, and for a wish from God, what is it
that is making these eyes cry.
The thing I admire is how hard she tried,
with husbands, with make-up.
In that last finished film with Arthur
and the horses, she was good.
She looked like a corpse, but
she was good,
her eyes still had that blue fire,
no matter how late.
Did she do that neurotic finger flick
Natasha taught her that I’ve read about,
dawdle in terror at– what? Gable?
She looks so secure in
his big tan hands.
The camera, her steady beau?
Maybe under those Nevada stars, the
mountains that never end, she felt
small, she felt alone.
“We’re all dying,” she says to Eli Wallach,
words Arthur stuffed in her tired mouth,
but god, of all things to do to
the woman you used to love.
The film works at
smelling like a hard death,
mustangs snorting in the heat,
wet with prop sweat.
I admire the way she worked at staying around,
at creating somebody, considering how little
a pound of Norma Jean was worth
on the open market,
Marilyn at any price.
By Deasia Hairston
A woman with heart and soul, but felt that her image was taking control.
A woman so beautiful, she could glow in the dark and had eyes that shown like spark.
A woman who was sexual and needed love and care, but she always asked, “Will anyone be there?”
A woman who was sweet and kind and her name always runs throughout people’s minds.
That woman is Marilyn Monroe.
Sexy, beautiful, talented, smart, trustworthy, and polite.
She will always be known for giving a person courage and delight.
Marilyn is a legend to this very day, may her spirit come and stay.
Marilyn, Marilyn, Marilyn!
by Shayne Michael
With a twinkle, a wink of an eye,
wiggle of her hip,
A pose, a pout, a flash of her captivating smile,
she has men wanting her and women wanting to be her.
She is Marilyn Monroe.
She is the picturesque of glamour.
She is an immortal Goddess captured on film.
She made us believe that Gentlemen really do prefer blondes.
She captured us with her soft voice, voluptuous figure. And her alluring demeanor.
She sparkled like the diamonds around her neck.
She died before her time, but was reborn in our hearts.
She was a girl who dreamed of becoming a star, now she shines among them.
She is an angel, an inspiration, and a vision.
She is Marilyn Monroe
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