THIS POEM
IS DEDICATED TO ALL MY CONCH
FRIENDS. BEFORE YOU READ THIS POEM,
YOU MUST FIRST PUT YOUR FRAME OF
MIND AS IF THE ISLAND OF KEY WEST IS
A LIVING “ENTITY”, CAPABALE OF
HAVING FEELINGS AND EMOTIONS,
SIMILAR TO THE FEELINGS YOU MAY HAVE
HAD AT SOME TIME IN YOUR LIFE WHEN
YOU WAS GETTING READY TO TRADE OL!
BETSY, A CAR YOU HAVE HAD FOR
MANY YEARS, AND HATE TO SEE IT GO,
OR SELLING YOUR OLD FAMILY HOMESTEAD
AND ALMOST FEELING LIKE YOU ARE
GIVING UP A FAMILY MEMBER. MANY OF
US EXPERINCED THIS TYPE OF EMOTION
WHEN WE DECIDED TO LEAVE THE
“ROCK”. READ, REFLECT, AND
COMPARE YOUR FEELINGS WITH MINE AS I
WROTE THIS ESPECIALLY FOR YOU.
THE ISLAND THAT CRIED
I’M JUST A LITTLE ISLAND,
AT THE END OF THE FLORIDA KEYS,
THE OCEAN WAVES LAP MY SEASHORE,
MY PALMS SWAY IN THE BREEZE;
LIKE A MILLION SPARKLING DIAMONDS
THE WAVES REFLECT THE SUN,
MY CRYSTAL CLEAR BLUE WATERS
CRY OUT, ----- COME, LETS HAVE
SOME FUN;
I MAYBE JUST AN ISLAND
BUT ISLANDS GET LONELY TOO,
I PRAYED FOR SOMEONE TO VISIT ME,
ANY ONE AT ALL WILL DO;
MY PRAYERS WERE SOON ANSWERED,
PEOPLE CAME AND STAYED A WHILE,
IF THEY REALLY LOOKED CLOSLEY,
THEY WOULD SEE AN ISLAND SMILE;
THESE PEOPLE SEEMED TO LIKE ME
I LIKED THEM AS WELL,
THEY ENJOYED THE THINGS I OFFERED
THEM
AT LEAST AS FAR AS I COULD TELL;
THEY BUILT THESE CUTE LITTLE HOUSES,
UP AND DOWN MY NARROW STREETS,
THE WHITE PICKET FENCES ACROSS THE
FRONTS,
I THOUGHT WAS REALLY NEAT;
I GAVE THESE CONCHS THE BEST I HAD,
OF COURSE THAT “BEST” WAS FROM
“ABOVE”,
THE MEAR MENTION OF MY ISLAND NAME
BETWEEN CONCHS WAS JUST PURE LOVE;
MY PEOPLE REALLY LOVED ME,
THEIR LOVE GREW MORE AND MORE,
THEY DIDN’T WANT TO CHANGE A THING
THE CONCHS WANTED TO KEEP ME PURE;
THEY REALLY LIKED MY KEY LIMES,
THEY MADE SOMETHING CALLED KEY LIME
PIE,
I’D HEAR ONE SAY TO THE OTHER,
FOR THIS, I AM WILLING TO DIE;
AFTER A GOOD DAYS FISHING,
WITH A BOAT LOAD FULL OF FISH,
THEY’D TELL THE PEOPLE ON THE SHORE,
IT DOESN’T GET ANY BETTER THAN THIS;
SATURDAY NIGHT ON MY MAIN STREET,
WHERE ALL THE CONCHS WOULD MEET,
I COULD HEAR THEM LAUGHING AND
SINGING,
SOMETIMES DANCING IN THE STREET;
I COULD HEAR THEM BRAG ABOUT MY
SUNSETS,
WHENEVER STRANGERS CAME TO TOWN,
DON’T FAIL TO BE AT MALLORY SQUARE,
WHEN THE SUN STARTS GOING DOWN;
HOWEVER, “STRANGE” PEOPLE STARTED
COMING’
THEY CAME FROM FAR AND NEAR,
TO LOSE THEIR SIMPLE ISLAND LIFE
WAS THE CONCHS GREATEST FEAR;
IT, WAS BOUND TO HAPPEN
ALL GOOD THINGS SEEM TO END,
THE STRANGERS MOVING INTO TOWN
WOULD START A DOWNWARD TREND;
MY COCONUT TREES ARE WEEPING,
THE BIRDS Aren’t SINGING SONGS,
THE SKY IS DARK AND DREARY
THERE’S SOMETHING REALLY WRONG;
I CHECKED MY OLD CONCH HOUSES,
FOR SALE SIGNS IN THE YARDS,
IT WAS THEN I REALIZED MY DEMIZE,
MY ONLY THOUGHT WAS OH! MY GOD;
MY CONCHS ARE REALLY LEAVING,
THIS ISLAND THEY CALL HOME,
TO LEAVE FOR PARTS UNKNOWN TO ME
TO LEAVE ME ALL
ALONE;
AS THE CONCHS THAT WERE LEAVING
WERE SAYING THEIR LAST GOODBY’S,
TO THE ONES LEFT BEHIND
IS WHEN I STARTED TO REALLY CRY;
THE CONCHS THOUGHT IT WAS RAINING
BUT IT WAS ONLY THIS ISLAND’S
TEARS,
SO MANY WONDERFUL MEMORIES,
SO MANY JOYFUL YEARS;
AS THE CONCHS LOADED THEIR CARS
AND CROSSED THE BRIDGE AT COW KEY,
THE TEARS ON THEIR CHEEKS
REFLECTED MEMORIES OF ME,
THE LOOK ON THEIR FACES
WAS PAINFUL TO SEE,
AS THEY TURNED AND LOOKED BACK,
FOR THEIR LAST GLIMPS OF ME;
THE FOLKLORE OF THE CONCHS
WILL GO ON AND ON,
MY ONLY HOPE AS “THEIR” ISLAND,
LIES ON THE NEW CONCHS BORN;
THROUGH ALL OF MY TEARS,
SOMETIMES I MANAGE A SMILE,
BECAUSE MY PEOPLE THAT LEFT,
COME BACK AND VISIT A WHILE;
SO THIS IS THE END OF MY STORY
NO LONGER CONCEALING MY PRIDE,
I’LL SIMPLY GO DOWN IN CONCH
FOLKLORE,
AS KEY WEST, THE ISLAND THAT
CRIED.
“BUBBA”
JACKNE DRUDGE
WEAR IT AS A BADGE OF HONOR
WHEN A CONCH CALLS YOU “BUBBA” BY
NAME,