5 Baby-Making Songs to Which You Were Probably Conceived

Music for the lovers and love-making

Photo by Mick Haupt via Pexels

We know music can settle the mind, lift us up when we’re down, and can cause us to tap into our most creative sides. But . . . music can help get us living, breathing human beings into this world too. Come on, you know what I mean — baby-making music. Not just love songs, but songs played for the sole purpose of making love.

There are love songs and then there are songs you spin simply to rock and roll and I ain’t talking about heavy metal. When I think of musical artists who have had their time in my CD player during my most romantic adventures, they include: Maxwell, Luther Vandross, Barry White, Teddy Pendergrass, Marvin Gaye, and The Isley Brothers. Plainly put, the crooners.

Have you ever wondered if your parents were listening to their favorite baby-making song when they made you? Have you ever asked them? What was their response? If you’re a parent, did you and your partner pop that sexy tune of which you couldn’t get enough in the boombox while y’all shattered previous sexcapade records?

Come on, don’t be shy. We’re all family here.

This list, although rather short, are the songs I believe to be the most played during “sexy time” and songs to which you were probably conceived.


Marvin Gaye, “You Sure Love to Ball”

From the beginning of the song, Marvin makes it clear what his intentions are and why. When this song is played, there is no doubt as to what is about to go down. No doubt at all!

Oh, honey, I hope you never freeze
I love you, I love you so much
Oh baby, baby, don’t ever go away
Oh stay with me baby, I’ll love you night and day

YouTube

The Isley Brothers, “Between the Sheets”

This song needs no explanation. The title makes it clear and plain. Ron Isley is no stranger to crooning and when he gets his, “Ooh, Ooh baby, baby” moments on in this song, the only plausible thing is to let nature run its course and to let the baby-making begin.

Ooh, girl, I’ll love you all night long
And I know you felt it comin’ on
Ooh, darlin’, just taste my love, ooh, you taste so sweet
Sharin’ our love between the sheets

YouTube

Teddy Pendergrass, “Close the Door”

Teddy P.’s voice was smooth as silk and completely come-hitherish. He says openly and without shame, “Close the door. Let me give you what you’ve been waiting for. Baby, I’ve got so much love to give and I’m gonna give it all to you.” So many babies have been made while this song played in the background. I dare you to refute me on this one.

No need to worry no more
Let’s bring this day to a pleasant end
Girl, it’s me and you now
I’ve waited all day long just to hold you in my arms
And it’s exactly like I thought it would be
Me loving you and you loving me

YouTube

Art of Noise, “Moments in Love”

Although without any memorable lyrics, the melody is an unforgettable one. When Moments in Love begins, I immediately know the song — I know I’m in for a treat; one that includes harmonic genius and is anything but “noise.” Throw this little ditty on when the need arises to further overpopulate the Earth.

YouTube

Barry White, “Playing Your Game, Baby”

The late, great Maestro, Barry White had so many hit songs under his belt. His voice is one that will never be forgotten. He could say three words and women would fall out all over the stage based on that particular utterance.

With a voice fully coated in bass and a presence that could be defined as boldly seductive, Barry, I’m sure, helped bring many of you reading this bit of musical tidbit into existence.

You touch me, baby
But don’t cha know
You can’t hide
No, no, baby
When you give it up
It’s only enough
To get me by

YouTube

Music, with its luring capabilities, has proven, over the years, to be such a multifaceted tool for human beings. We dance to it. We cook when listening to it. We write while it’s playing . . . But when love is being made during its few minutes and moments of ecstasy, life is the result of it.

And really, isn’t that a beautiful thing?

Go on and turn on your favorite baby-making song, draw that bubble bath, coerce your honey dip into turning in early, and let the good times roll.

Let us know the baby’s name in nine months.


Originally published in P.S. I Love You via Medium.

Standing On Your Shoulders

micropoetry

memories cover me
the gift of your love
still exists

I could stand on
your shoulders and
see the world

I hold that blessing
close to my heart
it gives me strength


Fathers, to those of you seeking the love of your children, learning how to love your children best, watching them grow & growing along with them, and fathers struggling to be your best selves, Happy Father’s Day. Hug on your young ones and hold them close. Please let them feel your presence.

Beat You Like You Were Fred Waterford

There are times when the anger
is so deep I find myself reeling
in the emotions to keep from
jumping down the throats of
the people intent on believing this
nation isn’t racist anymore.

What world are you living in exactly?
Our bubbles can be safe places
but when one starts implying
trouble happens elsewhere and
everything is “fake news,” I call
in to question their ability to
be an actual human being.

It must feel good up there on
the pedestal of privilege.
It must feel real good.
You don’t have one care
in this world–no concern of
being attacked or harassed or
beaten like you were Fred Waterford
and hung on a wall for neighbors
to find while they’re mowing
their lawns.

Tell me, how can you call
a lynching on an oak tree suicide?
How?
This nation is designed to
mock and murder its minorites
and make sure the role of
“subordinate” stays that way.
“Here’s a small dish of manavelins
to hold you over until the next
batch of bullshit is released in
our favor. Stay tuned.”

America is built on the backs
of their oppressed and yet, America
acts like this fact is fiction.
“Sweep it under the rug.”
“Move that elephant out of the room.”
“Take history away from history.
This isn’t true!”
All the golden boys want their
golden girls to live in
an hour of disbelief.
This suits their blueprint.

But we are here to disrupt it
and shine light on what should
have been the focus centuries ago.
This nation is weeping; she cries
for her lost children; taken by the
hands of the blasphemers and
the pseudo-righteous.
She cries for her spirit is torn.
She cries because her soul is weak.

“Yea, though I walk through the
valley of the shadow of death,
I shall fear no evil.”

I shall fear no evil.
But evil better damn sure
fear me.

Clover

Flash Fiction

Photo by nappy via Pexels

Hi. I’m Clover. Clover Daniels. No middle name. Who are you? Lemme guess. Mama says our family gonna be coming over soon and I’ve gotta get my act together and clean house but . . . I can spare some time to speak with you.

That’s right! I’m guessing who you are . . . Are you the guy coming to interview my daddy, Linden Tillman or something like that? I bet you are! He ain’t here right now. My daddy’s got big plans for us. We’re supposed to be moving again. This time to someplace called Hopeulikit, Georgia. You ever heard of such?

Daddy says this place is an “unincorporated community.” Of course, I didn’t know what that was so I asked him to tell me. He said they don’t have to do the census. When my mama heard this, she sucked her teeth and rolled her eyes, and said, “Great, Paulie. Another place where we won’t be counted.”

I ain’t no fool. My mama keeps me on my toes. I know I’m Black. I know I’m a girl. I know we’re poor. And I immediately know Hopeulikit, Georgia probably ain’t a place for this Black, poor girl.

Daddy’s got people who left some land to him in Bulloch County so the move there is supposed to be a significant shift in our current status, but I’m not convinced. Mama says ain’t no amount of land worth moving to if you’re gonna be invisible.

My daddy’s a dreamer. Always has been — thinks he’s gonna build that land into something amazing; something that’ll cause the world to recognize who we are and what we can do. I wanna have faith in him. He looks so happy when he talks about his plans.


I’m his good luck charm. That’s what he says. Daddy named me Clover because I brought him luck. When I was kicking in my mama’s womb, my daddy got a promotion at his job down at Amtrak. I don’t know much about the ins and outs of money and what’s good or bad but he said he went from making $8.50 an hour to $12.00 an hour.

His whole face lit up; from his eyes to the corners of his mouth. He told me about his boss — about the day the offer came his way and how he and Mama were invited to his boss’s home for dinner. He gave me every little detail, including the sound the chandeliers made when the front door opened or closed.

I wish you could’ve seen him tell me this story. It was like . . . It was like some newfound energy snuck into his heart and lifted him outta sadness.

My mama’s a shopkeeper — has her own boutique with fancy-schmancy antique jewelry, clothing, shoes, and the like. It’s called “Clara’s Place: Antiques for the Soul.” I like going to the shop with her on the weekends. I help her open the store and sometimes she lets me greet the customers.

Business was booming five years ago, now . . . Mama can barely make $300.00 a day. And my daddy thinks us moving hundreds of miles away to a place tucked behind tick marks on a map is going to shift our luck.


Mama is tired. At this point, the complaints fall on deaf ears. My daddy’s mind is made up and that’s that. She’ll go along with this new venture because she loves him — because she knew she married a dreamer passionate enough to follow his dreams and well . . . “You’ll never know unless you try” rings just behind her ears. It’s what Daddy says every time something new to do circles around in his head.

Mama’s thinking about using a portion of that land for a garden: tomatoes, collard & mustard greens, cabbage, squash, and potatoes. She sees a future with us being completely farm fresh without having to depend on anyone else for our growth. Daddy loves the sound of this — loves to hear Mama thinking positively.

You listening? I see you jotting down what I’m saying from time to time but are you listening? This move could make or break us as a family. I can tell. I sense it. If it doesn’t work out maybe Daddy and Mama won’t anymore either and I just can’t stomach that.

I look around at all the cardboard boxes we’ve got stacked up and I know a change is coming that’ll call my girlhood into question. I’m just ready to see what this place offers. If Daddy is so hooked on it, something about it has to be right.


“Clover, baby. Who are you talking to?”

That’s Mama. She’s gonna ask you if I’ve bent your ear too much. It’ll be nice if you’ll let her know I didn’t, please.

Clara glides from the kitchen to the foyer of their home where Mr. Tullis and Clover are standing. She slides by some of the packed cardboard boxes in the hallway — casually making her way closer to him. She extends her hand for a brief introduction.

“Oh, you must be Mr. Tullis? I’m Clara. Paul should be home shortly. I see you’ve met Clover. Has she disturbed you any?”

She doesn’t wait for a response.

“Please, come right on in and have a seat. I’ll bring out the refreshments.”

Mr. Tullis nods his head with approval at the mention of refreshments and takes the advice from Clara and makes himself at home.

Mr. Tullis, you’re all right with me. Thanks for not telling on me. I like to talk is all — love people. I like to observe people. You know, you can learn a lot about a person by watching them read a book. Have you ever done that?

You’re here to survey this house, right? See what it’s worth . . . See if we’ve been keeping it up and if it’s good enough to sell? Listen, the best spot in this house is the attic. There is a treasure trove up there you wouldn’t believe but Mama doesn’t like me up there playing around so I don’t go up there as much as I’d like. And she’d have a conniption if I went up there now — there are boxes everywhere! Our lives follow us around in those boxes.

But, back to details of the attic . . . It can be anything. A hide-and-seek space, a guest room, a studio . . . You name it! You got kids? If you do, I bet you five nickels your kids would love it up there too! Oh! I think I hear my daddy’s truck pulling up. You’re gonna like him. You will. You’ll see.


“Clover! Come on in here and give me a hand, baby girl.”

Clover gathers herself hurriedly, shakes Mr. Tullis’ hand, and wanders off into the kitchen to her mother.

I gotta go now, Mr. Tullis. Remember what I said about the attic — it’s the sweet spot.


Originally published in The Weekly Knob via Medium.