Lovely cricket
Take out your cricket bats,
It's cricket time again.
The stands are buzzing as the pitch is being prepared,
The batsmen take centre stage as they prepare for the ball to come their way,
The bowler aims the ball perfectly as the batsman strikes it effortlessly,
The ball is soaring and the fielder takes aim.
The ball falls comfortably in his hand as the fielding team claims the first wicket of the game,
The bowler sets himself up again and the batsman is out leg before wicket.
The umpire raises his hand and the decision is taken to the upstairs man
The fans wait with bated breath to see what will happen next,
The signal comes that the next wicket has gone.
The batsman shakes his head in defeat while the fielding team takes the lead.
The sun beats down on the heads of the fans in the stands but they are determined to see who will be the best man.
The wickets tumble and the runs are low,
The target is met without a wicket being taken,
The chase is over and the best man is named.
Regardless of the outcome everyone enjoys the sweet cricket game,
Sixes and fours are scored galore
We can't wait to see how much more these teams have in store.
From the primary to the senior they give of their best,
From the one-day to the Test.
Sweet and lovely cricket is always one of the greatest Caribbean sports.
- Saccheen Laing
Hard to be chaste when you are being chased
Man ah run yuh down
Mama ah chase
You out ah HAR town
no fund, yuh whole heap ah subject dem is a crown of frown
- Helen-Ann Elizabeth Wilkinson
Jamaica cries
Just seeing her cry, brings tears to my eyes. No matter how much they try to console her, she still continues to cry.
Somehow it seems pointless to try, for she will never stop. She weeps like a mother, daughter, sister and a friend.
Why does she cry? No one seems to know. Since you're still contemplating I will tell.
As the days go by she loses a child. They go by the ones, twos, threes, and lately by the fours.
She weeps in agony alone, as she tries to come to terms at the rate at which her kids are being slain.
Let's help her to retain her glow, that she so often shows which the outer world has come to know.
- Xavier Frazer
Poetry spread
Poetry is the spread
that covers my bed.
The comfort of the pillows,
as I rest my head.
Poetry is my home as I only invite words in.
Poetry is my expression!
Poetry is my gamble
and my worse sin ...
- Javell Mothersill
I know my soul
Nestled in a quiet place
Moulded, comforted
Fed and filled with grace,
Steadfast in its quest
Beautiful, for it's been blessed
Preserved
I know my soul
I keep it hidden in that secret place
Away from harm, hurt and pain
Exposed, only to my inner eyes.
While it shines like a diamond against the sky
This unique piece of me
That triggers the buttons of sad and happy
Restored
I know my soul
It comprehends, sometimes control
Robs me of a part but never the whole
Complete, vibrant
From which a spring of life flows
Immortal
I know my soul
It is the key to my infinity
The core of my humanity
Indestructible
No man can destroy
My heart defined
Awakened, yet consoled
I know my soul.
- Charmaine Wallace