Poems

 

Why am I here?

 

Dear Life,

Why am I here?

Everyday these trials I try to bear

I was born in this society norm

That moulded me and made me in this form

How do I know that it is wrong?

What can I do to belong?

I know this world somehow began

But how do I know where to stand?

I was born without a choice

So where is that manual, that voice?

Not one, but ten thousand roads I see

The one I choose will define me

Who do I ask?

I have seen so many masks

I seek love, family, career

But only because those society has made clear

What if that's not why I am here?

Signed Confused

Dear Confused,

Your story is already written

He already knows the end

Everyone is called

Just look out for your Godsend.

Signed Life

- Shuancie Barrett

 

Beneath the Mexican moonlight

 

I remember the warm night beneath the Mexican moonlight.

It was there I lost my beautiful Spanish maiden.

We had planned to meet at the cafeteria earlier that night,

But something went awfully wrong with our plan.

It looked like she had some other more important engagement.

I was in love with her and so anxious to be with her.

It was almost midnight and there was still no sign of Maria,

So I left the cafeteria in sadness and headed for home.

Suddenly I heard the soft strumming of guitars,

And the song that was playing lifted up my heart.

I walked along the path in the light of the Spanish moon

And I saw Maria dancing with a man on the bridge.

Her misleading eyes were captivating as the stars.

He was standing in front of her and gently stroking her face

And then she kissed him just as she used to kiss me.

I could almost taste the sweetness of her lips.

I froze for a moment and my throbbing heart sank.

I hid carefully behind the oak tree so they could not see me.

I watched in astonishment while she flirted with him.

And I stood there until she theatrically gave her heart to him.

She left me standing alone in the darkness.

The sound of Spanish music echoed in the valley.

And I knew I would not forget the painful experience I had,

I lost my Maria to a dreamer beneath the Mexican moonlight.

- Marlon Pitter

 

Puppy, patty, party, parson

 

When it come to de lyrical Louise Bennett Coverley is de queen

She run wild with the satirical and sweep de theatre clean

in a one poem she link complex argument, lock it in cement

De dwag po Sammy dead and she present "commentary" in har lament

Now, anybody that can conjoin animal rights

questionable nutritional patty bites

with "collar" and Pastor Look alike

deserve a citation and an open mike

She got to be made a national heroine for sure

Me hope de Government soon open de door

For Gleaner dem days was we salvation

So me dey don a Miss Lou "elevation"

She is de boss in and out of season

wid "what good fi eat no good fi talk" reason

She has Jamaica on the discourse international rise

from Cake soap, war politics, love letta, to wi map size

She retire Pastor, patty, party in one stroke of her pen

no wedding cake, sweet like "Sammy," no women, no men

no Nancy story can cause any further distress

cause Louise sey it all and cause no legal defamation mess.

Me tenk Teacha Thompson-Brown from de west

fi always look out fi mi godly interest

she larn mi English and how to spell

Teacha Brown introduce to me George Campbell "Women, History Makers Hammers and Rocks" to tell

and to dis day, Louise Bennett Coverely, is she meck Gleaner Paper sell!

- Helen-Ann Elizabeth Wilkinson