June Plum Seductively sweet - though it can be a savoury delight- it reaches for your insides promising to be more than a treat. It delights the sense quenches the urges, buried so long and so deep. it's golden light promises perpetual sunshine that excites, but only if you take that first bite and not even a drop should fall on your chin. But how can something so small brought by a Bligh who brought so much strive taste so right? Yet here it is slowly awakening the senses delightfully taking control...
Tag: Jamaican poetry
Keeping it Real
Keeping It Real
I have been designed many times:
who I am
who I should be
who I was meant to be.
But none asked
what I am to me
what I was meant to be
or what I see in me.
They count the years
and fuel my fears
with their unasked for expectations.
No one seems willing
for me to be me -
They will say they do-
There is the lie.
They can't handle the truth of me.
And so they see what they want to see
the maddening fever of their mirage.
So
they polish up and shine
the me they designed
and leave me to languish,
wasted
dusty
on the shelf.
There I sit
after having been split
by good intentions
and kind words,
struggling to reassemble myself
while you nurture a leprechaun elf.
I Try and Compose Myself
I Try and Compose Myself I stay still and pray for the will to keep myself together. The more I try to shut my eyes A little piece of me falls away like the burnish autumn leaves. Silently too like an old banshee I scream from the fright of what this could mean. Layer after layer melted in a scurry while I sat nervously fretting and sweating with worry - what could this mean? As each layer continues to fall away - to de-compose and expose - What I see, is a deep down rawness of a tale no one knows - not even me.
Reputation
Reputation There goes the lie on spindly legs. It crawls about trying to find a route out of the doubts that it may not be who it seems. The Lie: We must protect Reputation - at all cost: kill if you must steal, fight and cuss. But don't let out the truth of what it is... Constructed to please the crowd now a monster too proud to be cowed by humilty. Knees stiffened back straight eyes fixed on success' frivolities. Now it goes through the door Head held high headed for the gate that leads straight to hades. Humility stand just a way off, waiting for those who seek, waiting for those who are meek.
Pure Faith
Pure Faith I stand on a mountain covered compeltely. Unable to see I stand still waiting watching, for God's degree. I don't know what is ahead but I know what I left behind: a tratious mob shouting for my decline, masked transient beings who seem true and real until you check your progress and realise they were always a part of your ordeals. So here I have come to see what I will become when I step off the edge, die to fear and live in pure faith.
Grace Untold
Grace Untold I was trapped in hell a decade now, did you not know? There, the demented fire licked at chasm wounds tore at softened bones melting like the liquid lava river I passed by. As I clawed my way out across cracked desert floors, I lost a few things but I got back my soul. From that treacherous escape to the light I had to wrestle, and defeated the demons of the night. On shredded legs I ran like a lightning bolt thanking God. One day perhaps, when I have gotten old I will find the words to write of victory won and grace untold.
The Gratitude Journal
The Gratitude Journal I want to say I'm grateful, for this life for my many things for my many friends and for my many family true? But also, a slow Sunday afternoon sunlight glistening on dark and rich skin life breathe flowing in and out eyes to see nose to smell a shelter where I can dwell... And, sadness that brings joy sun to chase away the storms ignorance that births wisdom mistakes and failures that nip me awake and escape the destruction that awaits just around the corner... Most of all, I thank God for the gift of gratitude that rewards with beatitudes.
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