The grass is brown, crisp, dry
Withered plants bring tears and a sigh
Crops are fighting the hot days of summer
With little or no water
Their thirst is barely quenched
A sad reality, it's survival of the fittest
Mastering the art of a bath from a bottle
And still trying to operate at full throttle
Taking a r-e-a-l shower is wishful thinking now
For the moment, many have lost that honour
Cars are now fashioned with dust
Oh well, why fuss?
The drought conditions are severe
And a lot to bear
Coupled with the sweltering heat
It's hard to keep upbeat
Yet I continue to smile . . .
To camouflage, if even for a while
Water is precious
It has to be spared, conserved
For there isn't a lot in reserve
It's a dilemma in more ways than one
Rain, I pray for you to come
'Cause the water woes aren't welcome!
- S. Dionne Phillips
There he was, standing in the corner of the room
Looking to me like a prospective groom
His perfectly shaped teeth as white as snow complimented his smile
That was as wide as river Nile
I smiled at him; I gave him my best shot
He was coming this way,
I was nervous; I had not planned my next move.
The butterflies in my stomach fluttered wildly
But like a beautify queen in a pageant,
My smile remained intact
He was getting closer, I was fidgeting now
Then he stopped and the butterflies in my stomach came to an abrupt halt
He stopped at her, not me.
She, with her attached lashes, pencilled brow, Brazilian hair,
Christmas nails and padded bra.
And I wonder
Where is my night and shinning amour?
He was supposed to ride up on his stallion and sweep me off my feet.
I am waiting for my glass slipper, but even now my feet are still cold
Where are my warm kisses to awake me from slumber?
Where is my wedding? And my feast? And my happily ever after?
He did not show, now I know,
Those fairy tales lied to me
Or if I am not the princess then am I a wicked witch?
Mirror Mirror on the wall, who's the fairest of them all?
Not me. There will always be one prettier or one more talented
But that doesn't mean I am not important.t
I am not the average girl, neither do I intent to be
I never learnt how to swing my hips
Or how to have kissable lips
I don't wear push-up nor am I in hurry to buy pull-ups
I never learnt how to bat my lashes
Or how to apply blushes.
I can't flash my barely there nappy hair
And I definitely don't know about this Mona Lisa smile
How did they learn these things?
Was it in a manual?
Or was it encrypted somewhere at birth?
Forgive me, I never got mine.
I will not giggle and look cute when I know he speaks rubbish
Or be silenced when I got something to say
But I will speak up and stand for my rights
Why not? I know I am bright.
Many women are silenced on this earth
By pain and by hurt
I speak for you
To her, who applies blush just because he said 'hush'
after his hot hand met her face.
To her, who hides his finger prints beneath her turtle neck just because he sings
her sweet lullabies and says it will be alright.
To her who fakes smiles just to hide the fire between her thighs
from the abuser who she trusted to be a hero but turned out to be a zero
To those who fear to share because of their status quo.
And those who bear just to have their share of material flare
And to those who suffer because they are threaten, terrorised and traumatised
You were waiting on your prince charming
But you ended up on calming pills and herbs
You are important, you are special, and you will overcome
You are more than who they say you are.
You were beautifully sculpted and you deserve the best.
So stop listening to society, rise from belittlement, abuse and hurt.
You may never get your prince charming but you can have the Prince of Peace.
The Green and Black
We come from the hills of red
like an ancient river flowing from the mountains to the sea
Wearing stripes of green and black
Moving forward never back
Carrying swords of knowledge
Strength to complete the course
Giving our 'Utmost For The Highest'
Near or far
At the call of Jamaica and Calabar
- R. Oscar Lofters
Black Man Sweet!
Black Man Sweet!
face it sweetheart,
"seeit" ... see it?
talk de truth
hard to replace
even when it is just "talk"
"Baby, AH JUS
ME DEH FOCUS PON!"
no amount of shades of grey can compete with BLACK
the intellect is scrambled here,
is no more rebel to the bass
- Helen-Ann Elizabeth Wilkinson
Depth of Sadness
Ever felt like you've lost your joy?
Ever get tired of being sad, been sad so much and for so long you completely forget what genuine happiness feels like?
Feel like you're hope is deteriorating and your faith whither like grass. Feeling like your strength has failed and there no energy left to go on.
Feeling like your standing in the quicksand of your sorrows.
Feel like your dreams are ash that the wind driveth away while you're chasing after them. The silver lining around your dark cloud vanishes at the speed of light.
Try so hard to convince yourself that it will pass or time will heal.
That peace, love and joy the soul thirst for is light years away.
Impoverish by hopelessness, the mind ponders the question of, can this get any worse? Conceal in pain the heart faint, with no hope of recovery.
The beauty that's before you your vision apprehended it not.
Sleepless nights and restless days, you're hardly ever experiencing a peace of mind.
Plagued by "What-if" thinking, you wear yourself out with your thoughts.
Try to seep away the feeling, but like a boomerang it keeps coming back.
As the days fade into the nights, so too your happiness fades into sadness.
Loneliness, anguish, isolation, futility, discomfort all disguise in the depth of a smile.
- Patrice G. Williams
You see them
when you're down and broke
Or happy and ready to share a joke
They keep in touch
Just to say hi and never too much.
True friends will not cheat
And your secrets they will keep
True friends never let you down
They'll do you good without a frown
Friends will come, friends will go
The faithful ones you will certainly know.
WE WALK ON
HE takes me into the Garden of His WILL
And I look upon the wisdom of His grace,
I behold the depth of His imagination
The heights of Divinity the lights of His face;
I walk with Him through the green grass of peace
That reaches to my knees and caresses my feet
In soft, sweet smoothness
He holds my hand, and we walk on;
There are stones in His Garden, precious stones
Jasper, Sapphire, Chalcedony,
Emerald, Topaz and Amethyst
These fashions the Aquarium where flows the stream
Of living water in which fish of silver play,
He bids me, sit awhile, and in the stream he wet His hands
And gently washes my face
I look, and from each precious stone
Beams light of different colours
Sending beauty to the water, creating the rainbow
He bids me go, and we walk on;
I see giant trees bearing fruits of love
With leaves like stars that glitters
Each tree is guarded by an Angel
Robed majestically in white
He takes me to the willows, the trees crying daily by His WILL
Inscribed on the trunks are the words, "MOST SORROWFUL"
They sing songs of truth and hold in their roots Eternal youth
And we walk on:
We walk on through the garden of His Will and I behold the waters
Seas, calm, boisterous, blue, green black red; seas living and seas dead,
I see suns, shining rays of equality, blending in unified harmony,
I see the rains in all their splendour hugging clouds of grey
I look upon snow robed in the finest white
Like a bride adorned to meet the bridegroom
I see the winds, calm, cool, refreshing
Reckless, shaking, breaking, seeking, finding, keeping,
Steady, peaceful, at rest, I see them all
As we walk on;
He takes me into the maze of wisdom
And shows me through the paths of righteousness
Around and around we go to the centre of peace
Where glows the sun of perfection
This maze he fashions with rose's red,
Creating a holy bed where humming birds play,
There is a tree in this maze that opens its fingers like a star
And bows in prayer; it sends its roots to the end of the earth and beyond,
Nobody knows how far it goes
And so, we walk on:
I see flocks of white doves, feeding among the lilies
Where the morning star shines
And Swans wading in the ponds of smiles
I see peacocks of beauty opening their feathers of many colours
Striding gracefully; Vultures gallantly dressed as ministers of sanitation
I see eagles of might in brilliance, and Owls of night in dignity
With seers eyes they watch,
As we walk on;
He takes me to the hill of strength, where fly butterflies
In banners of grace, were hum the bee in sweetness,
Where glide grasshoppers in meekness
We go on to the valley of shadows
And I look upon all races of ants marching like solders in ranks
Ready for battle; I behold fireflies as the sand of the seashore
Blinking lights of divinity, I hear the call of the whistling bugs
Like a siren through the shadows,
He takes my hand and
We walk on:
We go on to the meadow of Creation and I see people
I see the clay that formed them in the hollow of his hands
And the breath he blew to give life, the trees of good and celestial light,
I see steps of freedom escalating to chairs of righteousness
Where sit souls of consciousness, I behold the spirits of happiness and life
Goodness and mercy, Goodness salutes and mercy follows,
As we walk on:
We walk on to the valley of wars; here I see the mighty spirit of judgement
Holding high a two edged sword as shine as day in full bloom
As sharp as a scorpion that stings. He wears the helmet of authority
The boots of vengeance and garment dipped in blood
From his mouth echoes thunder, his eyes sends forth lightening
And his nose breathes fire. He holds my hand
And we walk on:
There is a place in His garden called "LOVE"
He takes my hand and leads me to its caress
There I am cushioned in its arms of safety
Thrilled by the gentleness of its warmth
I close my eyes wanting no more to see
But to be hugged forever by the wonder of its ecstasy
To smell the perfume of its bosom
To lay upon the softness of its wills
And be lifted in the gentleness of its truth
To share eternal youth; I see beauty, tranquillity,
Truth honesty, faithfulness and obedience
All robed in everlasting unity.
He guides me through the garden of his will
I look upon the wisdom of his grace
And we walk, yes, we walk on.
Phyllis E. Beckford