Poetry

For Jamaican women

If I in another world were asked

What sort of woman I would have

None else than a Jamaican woman

It would be without hesitation

Indisputably!

I have been around the world

Seen them from America to Arabia

But none prettier nor sweeter than she I see

She the mixing of the peoples many

All loveliness of all embraces

A Jamaican woman!

It gives me great pleasure to know what she knows

That she is wonderful

Whether she climbs on a market truck

Or dances at the Governor's Ball

Whether she smells of labour sweat

Or the scents of expensive perfume

Whether her nails are covered with earth

Or glistens with colourful polish

Her laughter is just the same

Infectious!

Whether she went not to school

Or from university graduated

Her form attractive or thickened with age

She is vivacious!

You need not go too far to find

She is rather industrious

Working hard beside her man

Working hard if she is single

Yet finds time to play with children

Chiding or cajoling them nursing

Guiding and nurturing towards their goals

Humouring the moods of her husband

And she likes to go to church

A worshipful mother and wife!

And when to career she applies

None may prove more applied

For thoroughly she plans with vision

And nothing or no one may detract

To work her plans most thoroughly

The executive chair to occupy

Or with tender hands to nurse an ailing child.

- Oren Cousins

______________________

Broken-hearted woman

Why can't my man love me the way I love him? Why can't he stand by me when my lights are going dim? Why is it that I as a woman feel so much pain? And why, when it comes to love and relationships, do I have to complain?

Why is it that some men don't know what it is to really be in love? And I, as a woman, am willing to make the biggest of sacrifices when push comes to shove? Why is it that I, as a woman, don't and won't accept the one who really loves me, yet I stick by the one who sometimes I wish I didn't have to see?

Why is it that when it comes to us women, men just use and abuse? Yet when it comes to letting go, we as women choose to refuse? It hurts to know that you really love a man, for him there's nothing you wouldn't do, and it hurts even more to know he doesn't feel the same about you

Just as we love them, they should also love us and then there would be no thoughts of the phrase 'ashes to ashes, dust to dust'

Some people don't understand the things I say, they would have to ask the Father above, but certain things I say and do, I do because I'm in love.

- Abi-Gaye Smythe

_________________

A mother's prayer

A mother's grief

Her son just died

Shot dead by a gunman's bullet

She holds her belly and cries

Avenge me Lord

Avenge me now!

The pain is much

Too much to bear

Justice now! Justice please

Lord Almighty hear me plead

My arms outstretched

Prostrate I fall

Lord Almighty when will it end?

- Leonie Forbes

_________________

Miss you mom

Waking up in the middle of the night

Realising that you're nowhere in sight

But just to be sure, I turn on the lights

Only to assure that my conclusion was right

I return to bed where trying to sleep becomes a fight

I lay awake trying to keep my head free from thoughts with all my might

Not wanting to think on how much I need you in my life

The fact that you're not here cuts deep like a knife

I've got so tired of waiting for you here on the staircase of my world

For you to see that you brought into creation this beautiful pearl

I miss you mama, from your sweet little girl.

- Li' Ann

_________________

My room, my world

I opened my door and behold

I saw a black hole sucking viciously at my soul!

Quickly I closed it, afraid I might lose it

I stared at the walls but they stared back with an intimidating smirk

Almost laughing at my innocence, my ignorance

The floor morphed into a fiery abyss, ready, waiting to swallow me up

But wait! My ceilings parted and lo and behold, I witnessed the celestial city

The heavens opened before my eyes

Elated, I sprang to my feet but then it all melted away, vanished, gone

Once again, I had ventured too far into my little world

My room.

- R.G. Williams

Send us your poems!

If you would like to have your poems published in The Sunday Gleaner, send them to us at 7 North Street, Kingston, or via email at editorial@gleanerjm.com. Not all poems will be published.