Poems

The colours of slavery

White was the shroud of slavery,

That hung over our forefathers head,

Dark was the pain they suffered,

In the miserable life they led.

Green was the cane they nurtured,

Brown was the earth they dug,

Blue was the sky that made the cover,

Far up above.

The spirit of the slave was golden.

The heart of the slave was grey.

The blood of the slave was red,

Blood red, crimson red,

Burning with so much to say

Paulet Spence-Milton

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The Jay Walker

I’m washing at the foot of my bed

A black portrait sits inside my workspace

A man with an ugly slash across his face

He is the victim of the diwalian girl

Maas John kisses away my fears

He kisses me when I close my eyes

A child with sinister ways my jays

She is the victim of swollen twins

Your face multiplied by and by

There was one of you my king

A teen in pleats sits and sing

She is the pillar to our very post

A throng stands outside the door

Radiant dark shades of billowed gown

Come, my lover let’s meet downtown

He is the one-footed clutched hero

Leopard wallpaper lines my heart

Look how the woman with hair rollers

Sits pretty on lawn with baby strollers

She’s the one revving up the motocicleta

Maas John is back once again

Fire can’t destroy broken glass

Come mi likkle preci take a fass

They bathed him in orange koolaid

He’s back he is back he’s back...

- Jodi Angus