Poems

Tribute to Jordan Foote

He sits on the sidelines

With determination in his eyes

Wanting to touch the ball once more and lift his team to victory

His mind is fixed on the ball but his body is failing

In the midst of his pain his eyes remain on the ball

Skilfully manoeuvring the obstacles he flashes a bright smile

"I will be back on the pitch in a little while."

Cancer clouds tried to block his vision

But even when he lost his most valuable tool he still would sit on the pitch with eyes fixed on the ball

I remember being motivated as he took over my television screen

The odds against him, he still had the will to win

The entire nation stood behind him and cheered him on

The clouds grew thicker and cancer would claim the one who captivated us all

Even as his eyes have closed his soul is still fixed on the ball.

Jordan is an inspiration to us all!

His body has failed him but his soul is still here to remind us

To never give up and give it our all

Fighting to the very end with eyes still fixed on the ball

- Saccheen Laing

Ol' Jamaican Bwoy

Yuh memba dem days deh?

When di sun seem fi love yuh sweat,

Or the hours spent on farms, planting and reaping?

The mighty carpenters, building houses for the mass?

Where yuh tink dem get dah strength deh from?

Nuh mus wi grung planted coco, dasheen and yam,

Nowadays pickney just fenkeh-fenkeh,

Take a look at dat!

Gone are the days when tun cornmeal and salt mackerel did ah run the place.

Cho man!

Yuh memba dem days deh?

When we neva know what was a cellular phone,

Ku deh, everyting jus modernised!

Dis iPhone-Samsung a di new in ting,

Gone are the days when wi multipurpose coconut tree did serve,

Ol' clothes unda knee, dry coconut brush inna hand,

Yuh woulda neva get a betta shine dan dat one.

Me is a Ol' Jamaican bwoy,

Missing dat sweet-tasting stinking toe,

Or di days when we mek a likkle bickle;

Like some rundung and mackerel, wid Scotch bonnet peppa,

Not to mention our banana leaf-wrapped blue drawers,

Take a look at dat!

Gone are the days when wi woulda pull out our calabash!

Now is a plate every oda man a wash,

Only the Heaven knows, I miss dem days deh,

Sitting here reminiscing won't get me anywhere,

Because gone are those days,

Now everyting jus modernise!

But what do I know?

Me is jus a Ol' Jamaican bwoy.

- Rodain Richardson

Zn 30

Though an element

With an atomic number of 30

It is the first thing

Seen within my community.

Various faces

With stains of brown look on

As a step is made

Into this city.

Many have degenerated

With time

That another realm

Can be seen through them.

They form

The basis of identity

For those who reside,

Also the link for privacy.

Each being uniquely designed

To highlight

The creativity that exists

Through the means of graffiti.

Their faces

Told tales of war,

Their bodies

Showed its impact.

We have grown

To accept you

Though we long

For a change.

Welcome to

The zinc fence

Community.

- Dujan Crossfield

There is hope

When the bills are climbing

And the accounts are declining

When there are no funds to pay

And you are facing a long long day

Trust God as there is hope

When your mother and father say no

And your friends are now your foe

When your boss is causing you pain

And you see no way of gain

Believe God as there is hope

When you see women walking at nights

And everywhere you go there is a fight

When everyone everywhere is crying

And joy is nowhere and there is sighing

Lift up your heads as there is hope

- Hortense Francis

The Winds of Change

Life used to have meaning

But now, I am left gleaning

A change in the wind direction

A seeming loss of affection

No longer has she the time

Seems like another has her mind

The winds of change blow oh so cold

No longer do I feel in anyway bold

To deal with this, to deal with that

On my heart, I fell flat

In Jamaica, we speak of the

Christmas breeze

But how can I put my mind at ease!

Feels like life will never be the same

Feels like the end of this game

Try I will, try I must

But am I the only one making a fuss

The winds of change blow oh so cold

Half the story may never be told

- Broken Hearted

The Forgotten One

I saw her scratching in the dirt

A feeble soul made insane by a man she put first

I have known her a long time,

She used to sell Jew plums when I was in grade nine.

The sweetest plums; it was considered a sin to coat

them in sugar

I always wondered how the others coated them with

such vigour.

She always had a kind word and famous was her

smile

It could shine light into the deepest crevice of the

darkest mind.

Now she is forgotten and alone

I curse her son who put her out of his home

All those Jew plums peeled with love

sent him to school where he achieved a lot

The hurt was too much for her mind to bear

Now she searches the dirt and nobody cares

I called out to her saying her name

For a moment she stood still, then with a stick in

hand she started to chase.

- Jomo Mckoy

Twenty sixteen election

The Prime Minister speaks

There will be a rally at Half

Way Tree Square

This is breaking news

Supporters prepared

Boarded buses

Then take off to Half Way Tree Square

Buses fly pass like bird

Heading to Half Way Tree square

Vuvuzelas blared sounding like

The zik v mosques

Orange flags flip flopping like

The wings of s dove

The supporters sang they shouted

They laughed

They dance jig their bodies

While the buses moved along

Supporters entered the square

like falling rain

The Prime Minister greets each

Candidates with one and two kisses

And this was it

The twenty sixteen election

Will be February twenty fifth

Hurray hurray hurray

And the vuvuzelas blared

Sounding like the zik v mosques

It is done

Done as some want

Done as some wish

How you like it

How you taking it

It is done

- V. O. Ricketts

***

DEPRESSION

Is there a light at the end of this dark tunnel? Is there a way out these thoughts? This depression caves me in, my mind is about to spin.

Hidden secrets nobody knows

Eyes are open, hands are fisted

Deep inside I'm all wrapped up and twisted.

So many excuses and so many lies

They keep asking, how am I this way and why?

Greet them with a smile so they can never tell. I am alive but dead, just look at the invisible blood I've bled.

Oh depression, your a friend of mine, your here for a while, might as well we eat and dine.

Listening loudly to a silent scream.

I'm not gone but my mind has drifted.

Don't expect much, this depression has got me twisted.

Empty and lost are the feelings am gift with.

Today is just yesterday's tomorrow

The trees dry up, the leaves drifted and this depression still has me wrapped up and twisted.

Don't feel sorry for me, am on my knees, begging God please, to free me from this depression that makes me feel I've got no needs.

I'll make progress, just let me be. The father and I are working things out, finally!

- Davina Bennett

***

There is still Jamaica and There are still Jamaicans

.... for my Mother, Rowena Alicia...nee Oliver

Whatever or wherever you find them

you will find Jamaicans in Jamaica

they will reach out to you and help

despite whoever, whenever

you ask for a special kind of jelly

with the coconut,

the vendor will give you another that meets your

specification without extra charge

many will give you great hospitality in their homes

be a shoulder to lean on in these trying,troubling times,

beautiful times

when the people can talk, chat, text and say

what they feel about the governing, it is the voter's time and 'power" to "shower"

It is the right of the people to preside over their certain or uncertain future

to "love" who they want to "love".. the legend is mellow now "I'M GONNA LOVE YOU LIKE I'M GONNA LOSE YOU...." I hum a bit...with music overhead ... on Princess Street ...

I dance openly like my Mother in the face of precarious danger ...

Sam Coke sings in the background as I ply my highway ...

"I was born by the river in a little tent...

and oh just like the river

I have been running ever since" ...

...an amazing intelligence on the ground,

the debate is heating up as people buy their goods,

they are not stopping business,

talking while working,

exchanging ideas and cash,

the song returns

"It's been a LONG long time coming but a change gon' come!..."

PEOPLE,

the people smart, whatever happens food must put on the table,

just don't ask to many questions as to how it got there,

that's all....

..."There were times, I thought I wouldn't last too long ..."

..."it's been too hard living..."

someone to call you "baby" in the Market place

( I don't mind being not the 'only one"...)

or prod you to buy something from furniture to toothpaste

or hail you as "daughter" that helps when your

Mother is somewhere in "journey" cyberspace

...( but now I think I'm able to carry on...)

the reverence for Mother is there despite,

as it is always "Mommy" who holds the family together,

the home, feeding friends forgotten by others,

paying for ambulances, rescuing,

the Blessed Mother is pleased with these sacrifices

of the Jamaican people,

their love poured out for each other.

"Darling... STAND BY ME..."

MY "CHANGE".. CHRIST HAS COME!

- Helen-Ann Elizabeth Wilkinson

***

Broken

He said he was different, genuine

A man for real,

Simply the best

The real deal

Better than the rest

Than anyone I'd ever met

I believed

But oh! Foolish me

So stupid, so naive

This man I believed

My joy, my smile, my friend

All gone, came to an end

Only a fantasy, a facade

An illusion, I was in confusion

So jovial, gentle and kind

But no, not to be mine.

Back to reality

Awaken from my ream, a dream

This was not real,

No, not real, it's only a dream.

Only a game

All he ever wanted

Was to play with a name

They were all the same

Playing a game

With no shame

Not the best, but a mess

Just like the rest.

- Winsome Miles

***

Suicide

Pacing around the room in my mind,

are unwanted thoughts and annoying voices.

Daring me to face death,

and convincing me I have no choices.

With a bated breath I lay on the floor,

waiting for them to stop.

they plead to me, to reach up high,

and grab the rope at the top.

With my patience running out, the voices wont end.

Their tempting words and treacherous flings.

I want it done, I need a way out,

to get away I'll do anything.

Depression, stress, anxiety has gotten the best of me.

And nobody shows me sympathy.

I lay still...staring at the taunting string,

that swings above, laughing at my desire to die.

Is this what they mean by 'staring death in the eye?'

"Rest it on your neck for a bit!"

They laugh and jeer.

Though I show no sign of it,

there is present fear.

The toxic voices ... they slowly fade away.

But I know they will return another day

-Tessa