Poems

Ripples and waves

Journey over the blue,

Ride over a glass of colour

Towards the unknown,

Away from a home,

Ripples and waves,

Greet me at this start

It feels so much better

Than feeling pulled apart.

The adventure gives a wink

As I fold my arms,

Feeling encharmed

By its overhead pink.

There are colours below and above,

It feels as though you are encased

in a blanket of love,

Where there is no uncertainty

Or regards of being ordinary;

A welcome wave instead,

Matched by smiling ripples

That can be seen ahead.

The weight has lifted;

Floating away in the sky

Like a scarf placed over my life;

It dances freely;

Parting its ways with me.

I can see the finishing of it all;

A plated dessert without

A slow burning crawl;

In the end,

It’s only you

And yourself,

Who saves you from a cave,

On to an adventure

Of ripples and waves.

– Angela Yap Chung

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On masking a nation

His favourite colour mask is orange,

Her favourite colour mask is green;

Fresh and clean; blue, red, tangerine

And every colour in-between.

I’ve seen the poor and the mean

And as old as the queen

Feel the squeeze (or so it seem)

But knowing that a mask separates death from a field of dreams...

And so I know we get the message.

Masks in style; grey and white are our delight,

And colour codes matching the clothes,

Protecting mouth and nose,

Friends and foes, rich, pauper and hobos

On the go, showing no sign of wanting to be a superhero,

For they know that if they go unprotected

It may cancel their show...and hope.

We have become mask-wearing pros...

I’m glad we get the message.

Round face, long face, square face

All in one place,

No one bare face or barefaced,

Standing in their space,

Masked in the queues

In masks of blue

With matching shoes

And along a staircase,

I never knew...

We would get the message...

And the cry is, “Stay inside!!! “

Ain’t no lie, for if we’ve tried and over two thousand have died,

Without masks on face and in mind

It could be five hundred and fifty-five thousand five hundred and fifty-five, or more for sure.

The more (masks) the merrier,

Wear it yaah, we mek it yah and we’ll mek it sah...

Because Jamaica seems to get the message.

– Tyrone Bernard

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A child’s lesson

We may try, but it’s likely to go inflame

It’s not the choice they will choose

Hence, we play the game of blame

As time passes, it will only get worse

I’m telling you of the mind of a child

One that doesn’t comprehend the wisdom

I’m speaking of the state beyond fragile

Only after growth will it learn to fathom

Expectedly, we all must journey that mile

In some lessons,

The child is his own and only teacher

We may try and relentlessly without pardon

Only for them to defer

Therefore, a lesson through an encounter

Hush the endeavours,

They need to fail and feel anguish

A reminder that smart differs from clever

And parents aren’t fairy that grants their wish

These lessons will only be heeded

After hardship is felt

Wisdom will triumph from an ambush

The difficulty they have never met

So, they must never forget

Thus, growth in thinking

Chaperoned by adulthood

– Makonnen Solomon

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