Poem Of The Week: September, Spectacular!

September, spectacular!

I stepped out that September,

It took every ounce of courage that I had.

Massive action after deep contemplation,

God's plan didn't include that I would be sad.

Broken, beaten, battered and bruised.

I decided this crap had gone on long enough.

Time to step into my greatness,

For my children had suffered too much.

The moments for acting frail had passed,

This demanded resilience and guts.

I was prepared to fail only forward,

So I prayed and planned and pushed!

No one else could do this for me,

Excellence was my driving force.

So when fear crept into my consciousness,

Immediately it was crushed.

Never again to be pushed around,

Glanced at my past and felt no remorse.

For every lesson was very well learnt,

I had started a brand new course.

How could I miss being blindfolded,

While walking on a minefield,

Barefooted on broken glass.

I looked up that September and realised,

I had the power to turn that into the past!

Crying had long been set aside.

No more space for blood or gloom,

No mediocrity, no pain nor displeasure

Could ever exist here anymore.

I was stepping into my greatness,

Heading to the top, where there's room.

My mind was made up to step out that month,

With God I am moving ahead.

My children had a new found faith in me,

I pushed and fought, they witnessed my strength.

I had served and slaved and saved before,

Now its time to do something for myself

I embraced my new found opportunity,

Unearthing my true opulence.

I perished the thought of lack and pain,

I answered the call with great pride

Excellence was inevitable,

My perseverance could not hide.

This September was spectacular.

I had opened a brand new door,

Stepped into my greatness that September

I was ready for even more!

- Simone P. Graham

When death comes knocking

She didn't know she would have died at forty, I am sure

but maybe somehow in her final days she may have felt death, who knows?

but what does death feel like, how does it look when it comes knocking - ready to take you along its journey, if only we knew for sure ...

such a reminder that today is all we have for certain - that tomorrow is what we hope for, indeed

Yet, we don't cherish the here, as we allow our life's struggles to consume us ...

too taken up with our own crap to even give thanks for the moment we have been given

for who are we at the end of the day; covered in our garbs that cover our pain

hiding in plain sight for death to see

death is no respecter of who you say you are

as death is the only equaliser on the planet ...

ashes to ashes ... dust to dust

She didn't know she would have died at forty, I am sure

but maybe somehow in her final days she may have felt death, who knows?

- Stacey A. Palmer

Consider our ancestors

About the way I am feeling

Is more that I can say

To know our ancestors were captured

And as prisoners they were brought here.

About the way we are living

We have a right to complain

For we have seen the

Tale of our father going down the drain.

About the things we are doing

There's nothing I can say

For much more was about Sir Morgan

Yet our governor he once was.

About the way we are thinking

We are altogether right

For they who say they are

superior

Keep destroying our right.

- G. Lewis

Bad bwoy

Bad bwoy kotch,

Bad bwoy pose,

bad bwoy talk up

in dem bad bwoy nose;

fi rob Granny bar

is what bad bwoy propose!

Bad bwoy ah look

unda schoolgirl clothes!

Bad bwoy dis,

bad bwoy dat;

bad bwoy horse dead

and cow fat.

Bad bwoy siddung,

every day, ah bus stop!

Bad bwoy ah plan

fi bruck him own Aunty shop!

Bad bwoy pierce,

Bad bwoy bleach;

bad bwoy ah plan,

every night, fi guh tief -

daily guh station

guh report to police,

an' ah show di spec

him thirty-two teet'!

Bad bwoy step,

bad bwoy walk;

bad bwoy wear Ray-Ban

afta dark -

ah wait everyday

where taximan park;

bad bwoy business

is fi strickly extort!

Bad bwoy roll,

bad bwoy flex;

bad bwoy ah boas'

how much duppy him mek!

Him nuh even care

who fah life him tek;

a thirty-year lifespan

is what bad bwoy expeck!

Bad bwoy drunk,

bad bwoy red;

bad bwoy nah wuk

fi nuh daily bread!

Is only corruption

eena bad bwoy head;

only ting lef, now,

is fi bad bwoy dead!

- Kevin-Andrew

Moreno Sheriff

God's our lighthouse

When trapped in the cobwebs of life's miseries,

God provides an exit - when battered and tossed by its fuming waves,

God's our lighthouse.

He's giving you room and space daily as the screws turn tighter -

For over each new and hatched disaster,

He's providing to you an answer.

- Homer Sylvester

Miss Lou and Parson

Miss Lou through her protagonist

restructure the social divide

even if it had to be a "rainy day"

(and we know it neva rain pon Sunday)

or when "Pastor sick"

(And Pastor never get sick")

the marginalised family is elevated

when Uriah gets to preach

With one switch he equals the injustice of many years

from de preacher to the teacher

the pupil will give the marks to the principal

Louise again advocating against corporal punishment

Questioning the moral integrity of the neighbour who sit in yuh same pew in church

but allow you to go hungry ,without light or water

Yuh could ah "PARSONS" caan done

Is Louise reconstruct the sociological pyramid

elevate the "peaw peaw" people, the single parent family headed by a woman

to royalty

justice now roll like thunda

Louise neva fraid to sey social inequity

right there in the pulpit

de chapel have it own injustice

until you get a voice to speak there an then

you don't really have your day in court

She reckon with the paternalistic charity in her church

when you need a fishing rod

a mentorship for your son, you have to squeeze

opportunity in on a slip, on a chance absence

de good thing about it though, is that the sermon did well composed and rehearsed

and of course colourfully delivered

this is what you call "gowning"

"new garments and robes of righteousness"

Me glad ah she, Louise sey so and no me

- Helen-Ann Elizabeth Wilkinson

Tribute to our

Jamaican athletes

Our hearts are in our hands

The Jamaican pride rises above the land

The flag flows high and we listen to our anthem play another time

We shower them with praises when they grab the medals

We lift them up when they have fallen

They have shown their strength in the field events

They have flown over the hurdles that stand in their path

The determination on their faces sets them miles apart

What a blessing our athletes are to our aching Jamaican hearts

Divided we are in many areas of life

But our athletes stand in their blocks and unite the nation regardless of what we may lack

The speed they have pushes them past the rest

No one can ever doubt that they are the best

Some are disappointed but let us tell them not to fret

Olympics is coming up next

The sweat runs down their faces but they remain cool as ice

Never a fear in their eyes

Watch the black, green and gold continue to rise

We are Jamaicans! We always fight with all our might

Training from morning and even through the night

We are so proud of them!

We stand in the street and scream and jump when they take the lead

Our athletes are the heartbeats of our beautiful island

- Saccheen Laing