Poems

A Jamaican Farewell

Gentle breeze moves white clouds, softly

Greeting the morning sun, birds fly slowly

Sunray brightens the mountain range, partly misty

Dots of green mangroves, decorate beaches, sandy

Weathered buoys, anchored cargo ships, passed by a fishing boat

Moving slowly in the Kingston Harbour, a little over a knot

Passing Port Royal, lacking its past glory, now lazy and quiet

Our destination not that clear on the horizon, yet

Following his yacht obediently, 17 other yachts and boats

A very special journey for many family, friends and fans

Passing Lime Quay, Maiden Quay and a few other islets

All anchoring to make a big circle of white boats

Opening prayer by the priest, silence is broken, gracefully

Hugging crying members of the close family, emotionally

Flowers and ashes, scattered on gentle waves, respectfully

A round of short and sweet to celebrate a vibrant life, lovingly

All boats toot horns in unison, in one loud voice

A plane passes through, a helicopter circles adding to the noise

Music he loved, played one after the other, by choice

“Fly Robin, fly… Fly Robin, fly…”, a favourite choice

We will be back in town, later today in a heavy-hearted daze

Leaving him behind, alone, but with plenty of space

Without doubt, now his soul has gone up to a holy place

Ashes gone down, beneath the Caribbean Sea, to a final resting place

Chandi Jayawardena

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I Am Not Sorry

Maybe it is wrong to fix my gaze on you,

But I am not going to apologise for staring.

I do not often see fascinating women such as you,

And I am not sorry to love you at first glance.

It feels slightly improper to want your love so badly,

But, darling, I am not sorry I do.

I cannot stand next to you and not tell you hello.

You are too conspicuous to ignore.

I just could not walk away and not ask you your name.

And I am not sorry I introduced myself to you.

I admire your modesty and your good posture,

And so I am making an impulsive approach.

I am not sorry for thinking you might love me,

But it would be too bad if I have the wrong impression.

You are the kind of woman that turns me on,

And I am not sorry if I am going too far.

It does not matter that we have not met before;

Everybody meets somewhere, sometime, somehow.

Though I may not get the chance to see you again,

I am not sorry I said nice things to you.

Marlon Pitter