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