The Craqwfish Boil

The Crawfish Boil

By Robin Lee Shelby

The bayou flowed in front of the house

The cow pasture lay behind

And in back of that were the woods

And alongside, the slough

On a Sunday in the early spring

The entire family would gather

To pass the time together

And have a crawfish boil

Mudbugs in those early days

Were not purchased in a store

They had to be harvested by hand

From the nearby slough

So it became an adventure

As well as a feast

The nets were baited and laid out

In wait of the little beasts

The tubs in the pirogues were soon filled

With hundreds of the little critters

Crawling about trying to escape

From the prison they found themselves in

A number 10 tub had been filled with water

Atop a pile of wood set afire

Potatos, corn, salt and other seasonings

Made the brew waiting to come to a boil

When the brew was roiling around

The crawfish were tossed in

And stirred all about

Until they were cooked a bright ruby red

Newspaper covered plywood

Atop four old sawhorses

Was the table on which

The cooked écrevisse were placed

A huge mound of red

Sat there in wait

For the family

To freely partake

But that was then, a long time ago

Many have long since passed

The family farm is no more

But the memories remain of how it used to be

My Old Home Town

My Old Home Town

By Robin Lee Shelby

I took a trip today to my old home town

After many years away

So much had changed to those old places

It was a shock for me to see

Gone was the house of my grandmother

That was built so long ago

It had ceilings twelve feet high

And a wood burning stove

Gone was the hospital where I was born

On a cold February morn

A two story clothing store

Was built where it once stood

Gone is the theater where movies played

And I viewed them all

Now there is just a parking lot

With row upon row of cars

Gone are the places along the way

The train and bus stations have been torn down

A four lane highway now runs

Where the swimming pool once was

A shopping center now mars

Where a stand of trees once grew

And where there was once a school yard

Hundreds of storage units now wait

Only the cemetery seems the same

But it’s a lot larger now

In it are so many of my family and friends

That have long since passed away

My grammar and high schools still stand

But they too have changed

Repairs and improvements made

Have shaped a more different place than I recall

The country farm where I grew up

Is now overgrown

With weeds and trees and bramble bush

And a house long since burned down

I would’ve looked further still

But it was more than I could bear

And I can only curse the day

That they created Google Earth

Oil

Oil

By Robin Lee Shelby

A rugged job for rugged men

With skins bronzed by the sun

Whose task it is to drill for oil

In many a rugged terrain

From burning desert to muddy swamp

They work both night and day

Danger they face quite willingly

As part of the job they perform

By chopper and boat they come

To man the rigs offshore

Drillers, roustabouts and toolpushers

Derrickhands and motorhands too

They work the Kelly and the mud pumps

And add the pipe the deeper the hole

The rotary table squeals each turn

Moving the drill bit deeper in the earth

Then comes the rumbling

Black Gold rushes forth

Into the pipeline it flows

Another job has been done

Bayou Noir

Bayou Noir

By Robin Lee Shelby

I remember the first time I caught a fish

It was in Bayou Noir

I was all of five at the time

When I wet my first fishing line

My father stood by my side

When I felt the line jerk

And then I pulled it out of the water

Of good old Bayou Noir

Through the years I did many things

But I always had time to fish with my father

Either in a boat or from the bank

Of the waters of Bayou Noir

But fate took me from that place

In the land of the good earth

And I saw many other climes

But my thoughts were of Bayou Noir

Then the sad day came about

When my father passed away

And we laid him in a grave

On the side of Bayou Noir

Wherever I go and whatever I do

I will always take the time

To remember the years I spent with my father

On the banks of Bayou Noir

Reflections

Reflections

By Robin Lee Shelby

The Night is still

The sky is cloudy but a few stars manage to peek through

The Big Dipper can be seen as well as the North Star

Lines of black descend to the very tree tops

The moon is partially hidden by a formless cloud

Yet, it shines down on me standing out in the open chill

Events of the past few days flow through my head

The crickets chirp merrily and all else is quiet

A light stirring breeze hits my face

Barefooted I walk along a carpet of green grass

The chickens are huddled in their nests against the chill of the night

The dog is asleep but wakes when I pass

He licks my hand then I pat his head and he lays back down when he senses no dread

A hoot owl can be heard in the distance

An eerie sound from afar

Tales of the Rougarou come to my mind

A myth told by the old folk on the back porch

On a soft summer’s night

All alone am I beneath the clear night sky

The one I loved has gone away

Leaving me with a broken heart

But hope always remains

You Never Knew

You Never Knew

By Robin Lee Shelby

The day they brought you home I cried

And many people wondered why

They did not know that I loved you

And my heart was breaking in two

You chose the path that you would take

I chose the way that I would make

I’d hoped some day to tell you true

How much I loved and adored you

So many things I’d hoped to see

But it was not meant to be

The winds of fate destroyed my plans

When they brought you home from Vietnam

You never knew how I felt

How in your arms I wanted to melt

When the skies were clear and blue

And I would cuddle next to you

Hurricane

Hurricane

By Robin Lee Shelby

Stay tuned

Updates coming

Two flags waving

Hurricane warning

Silence

The calm

Deafening quiet

Before the onslaught

Breezes

Drizzles of rain

Slick roadways

Time to put up the shutters

Wind gusts

Dancing limbs

Slanting rain

The storm is near

Rain in sheets

Howling winds

Flying things

The storm is here

Unexpected calm

Quietness

Fresh smell

The eye

Renewed onslaught

Driving rain

Sound of drums

The storm returns

Water dripping

Ditches full

Grass glistening

The Storm has passed

As the Days Go By

As the Days go By

By Robin Lee Shelby

As the days go drifting by

My love for you will never die

Because I love you most of all

Even the Heavens will hear my call

Rest my love, your chores are done

Let the clouds glow in the morning sun

Each and every sing day

Evermore along the way

Sunset on the Bayou

Sunset on the Bayou

By Robin Lee Shelby

When days work is done

And to home we return

We sit awhile on the wharf

By the bayou

A pole in one hand

A beer in the other

To relax by the side

Of the bayou

A sudden breeze

Stirs the water

That laps the bank

Of the bayou

As twilight comes

The crickets chirp

And bullfrogs croak

Near the bayou

On the western horizon

The golden orb of the sun

Seems to touch the edge

Of the bayou

All too soon it disappears

Leaving a soft glow

As the sun sets

On the bayou. 

In The Woods

In the Woods

By Robin Lee Shelby

Neath the weeds, layers of leaves

Wooden debris and mulch

Lay the path that we once trod

In the woods

Memories flow like water

Like it was before

But are no more

In the woods

Your hand in mine

I still feel

Warm and firm

In the woods

I fondly recall

That special day

We were joined

In the woods

Partings come

But I still sense

Your spirit

In the woods

The General Store

The General Store

By Robin Lee Shelby

A nickel went a long long way

In those days long ago

It could purchase many things

At the general store

Two number 2 pencils

Enough paper to cover your books

A large piece of candy, all for five cents

At the general store

On Saturdays we took a trip

Up the country road

To purchase groceries for the week

At the general store

Rice and beans, shoes and pants

And other sundry items

Were just a few of the things

At the general store

In the front was a pot bellied stove

That warmed it in the winter

And up above ceiling fans

That cooled it in the summer

Popsicles, peppermint sticks and Jack’s cookies

Candy cigarettes, wax Coke bottles

Halloween harmonicas and wax lips

At the general store

Soft drinks in wooden crates

Ice cold watermelon

Bamboo fishing poles

At the general store

Gravity gas pumps and kerosene tank

Sacks filled with potatoes

Shovels, hoes and rakes

At the general store

Wood framed glass counters

Lined east and west walls

And in the ceiling one could spy

Old gas lighting fixtures

A refrigerated cooler with hanging meat

A butcher shop to carve the cuts

And brown paper to wrap it up

At the country store

Large white scales to weigh things

Wrapping string from overhead cones

A large cash register that held the sales

At the country store

Behind the main counter shelves to the roof

Holding canned goods of every label

Pulled down with a wooden grabber pole

At the country store

Balls of twine, cigars in boxes
Prince Philip in a can
Rubber patches with glue for boots and tires
At the country store 

Ball jars and paraffin wax in boxes
Flour in sacks that became pillow cases
Jam in jars that became drinking glasses
At the country store

These were the things I grew up with

And observed during the years

On my many visits

At the country store

For Liberty

For Liberty

By Robin Lee Shelby

It was not so very long ago

When the bugle called for them to go

And they went marching over the sea

To fight for you and me

Some came home and some stayed over there

Resting neath the skies that are so fair

For they went marching over the sea

To fight for you and me

Now we come to sing them this refrain

As we gather to honor their names

For they went marching over the sea

And died for liberty

The Old Graveyard

The Old Graveyard

By Robin Lee Shelby

Along the banks of Bayou Noir

There sits a verdant piece of land

Bordered by young cypress trees

And filled with flowers of many kinds

Flowers that sit in concrete vases

That lay by whitewashed tombs

On small lots that are side by side

In long rows from end to end

Here the village founders lie

Resting from their labors

Here too lay those who came

To live on and work the land

Each headstone tells a tale

Of life and love and hopes

Some are long, some are brief

But all tell of the one who lies beneath

In that verdant lot there reside

Many of our kin

And we know that the day will come

When we too will reside there with them

History has many tales to tell

Of nations that rise and fall

But many more tales are told

In the tombs of the old graveyard

Old Friends

Old Friends

By Robin Lee Shelby

We met one day on an old park bench

After many years apart

We hugged again in the same old way

As we had many years before

It was then the clichés came bubbling forth

“You’re looking well,” I said

“So do you,” was her reply

In her old familiar way

“It’s been a long time,” I returned

She just nodded at that

So then I inquired, “So, how have you been”

“Fine, just fine,” she said after a long while

But I knew she was not, old friends can tell

Else why would she wish to see me once more

I held out my hand and said to her

“I’m here for you, my old friend”

She slowly reached out her hand

With a very wane smile

And when they touched in a familiar way

She replied, “I knew you would be”

Nancy

Nancy

By Robin Lee Shelby

Nebulas have many stars

A solar system but one

Nowhere in the universes

Can there be another quite like

You

For An Old Friend

For an Old Friend

By Robin Lee Shelby

Such a beautiful sight my eyes do behold

Using mere words would not get the story told

Zestful and cheerful, a bright shining star

Yet Understanding to all those who know her

The Bald Cypress

 The Bald Cypress

By Robin Lee Shelby

Among the swamps of south Louisiana

Once stood virgin bald cypress trees

Sentinels of the swamp

Thousands of years old

Near two hundred feet high

Close to ten feet wide

Wood grown in wet climes

Building material for the time

Home to the frogs, salamanders and ducks

Catfish spawn in submerged hollow logs

Upon their limbs Spanish Moss grows

And eagles nest in the tree tops

French settlers to this land

Used this growth

For dugout pirogues, their homes and furniture

Later they were turned into railroad ties

For the railroads then came

With lumbermen

Establishing company towns

To harvest this resource

Then the day came

When the trees were all hewn

The towns became villages

With abandoned ruins

Young cypress trees remained

And grow to this day

I could take you there

This is where I was raised

The Old Spanish Auto Trail

The Old Spanish Auto Trail

Old Spanish Trail Road Map - Southern Louisiana - 1924

      I grew up in an old house on the Old Spanish Auto Trail.  It was located between the town of Houma and the small village of Gibson, Louisiana along the old federal Highway 90 that ran parallel to Bayou Black; a path that ran along a ridge just 5 feet above sea level.  Behind the house were 16 acres of farmland usually planted in sugarcane.  Beyond that was a forest of trees that was plentiful with wild game.  And, of course, the swamp lay just beyond that, followed by the Intra-Coastal Canal.  We used to joke that we were close enough to the Gulf of Mexico to spit in it.

      The little school we attended had been built during an era that had seen the harvesting of cypress trees from the surrounding swampland.  When that petered out the population decreased but the eight room school was still there teaching first grade all the way to ninth grade.  Later it would only be eight when the new parish junior high had been built in 1955. 

      In those days much of the Old Spanish Trail that existed in 1905 was still intact but there were places where it had been obliterated by the normal march of progress.  A progress that has continued unabated to this very day, leaving huge gaps in the continuity of the original path.   A number of those gaps were where ferries were once used to cross rivers;  the original ferry crossing the Mississippi from New Orleans to Algiers and the ferry crossing from Morgan City to Berwick across the Atchafalaya being two of them. 

     Other sections of road were replaced with new roadways, like the ones from Raceland to Des Allemand and from Gibson to Amelia.  And, then, there was the complete relocation of Highway 90 from Lafayette to Paradis that completely bypassed or were elevated over towns and other communities along its path.  Much of that route still exists, however, along the current State Highway 182.  

Current Louisiana Road Map

 

The Bayou

The Bayou

By Robin Lee Shelby

It wends its way along

Like a meandering snake

Through high land and low

Along ridges and roadways

Home to the fish, the frog and the turtle

And in the lowlands the alligator

Along its banks grow much vegetation

Giant Cutgrass, the Palmetto and the Bald Cypress

With the phases of the moon

It flows one way

And then the other

In its slow meandering way

At times the water is clear

And others choked with hyacinth

Coontails edge the waterside

Along with giant lily pads

These waterways cut through the land

Creating a thousand islands

A sportsman’s paradise

Where fish and game abound

The Bridge

The Bridge

By Robin Lee Shelby

Its deck timbers are dried

The undercarriage gone

All wooden fenders are rotting away

And traffic now is banned

But I remember how it was

In an earlier time

When things seemed so much simpler

And she was in her prime

The boat horn would blow

And men would scramble out

To manually turn the bridge

Along the curving walk

The boat would then go down the bayou

To its port of call

And the bridge would be turned

To where it had been

I walked many times across that bridge

When I was very young

For I had to cross it

To get to grammar school

I’ve crossed many other bridges

In my long lifetime

But that one will always be

The one that stays in my mind

Requiem for a Paradise Lost

Requiem for a Paradise Lost

by   Robin Lee Shelby

Gone in time are the places of my youth

Worn away by the ravages of time
Trees have been felled
Old buildings torn down

New homes have been built
Roads laid to connect them
Industry where once lay fallow fields
Swamps shrunken for RV parks

No more trappers in pirogues
Muskrat have no habitat
The bayou clogged with trash
Trees grown wild around abandoned homes

Pirogues are far and few between
Trapper’s shacks rotting away
Old cypress trees long since cut down
Swamps reclaiming their own

I traveled there just yesterday
And that is what I saw
But I shall try to forget it all
And remember it as it was

A paradise to fish and hunt
Neighbors far apart
Mile upon mile of sugar cane fields
Bayous and swamps clean and pure