Poetry (3)

Old as time

A story as old as heaven and hades

We all want good but rarely face our demons

We want to spread our wings and fly

Forgetting the devil was once an angel

Frequently praise our good, making our evil obsolete

Forgetting forgiveness is 70-fold but not all who call

Shall be crowned sheep

Our future is predestined, anchored in stone but we need the illusion of choice

To think that it was our greatness that got us here

The story as old as hades, time and heaven

Such a little time to create humble abode

But if we do it right that's all we need

Once

We live life only once so let's make it worth it.

- Renée Johnson
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Colourful emotions

As pure as a white dove

Or the virgin within me

As black as the night

Or the blood that runs through me

As yellow as the sun

Or the joy I behold

As blue as the ocean

Or my sorrows untold

As green as the grass

Or the calmness within

As red as an apple

My anger, my sin

Colours all around me

Beauty or what?

Within they hold a secret

That no one knows.

- Jodianne Darien
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No one told us

No one told us

No one said it would be easy

No one said that you'd spend nights crying

No one said your friends would leave you

No one said you would ask for answers and not get them

No one said there would be times when you feel all alone, like an outcast

No one said it would be easy

No one told you this is what life's about

No one told you that you'll have to learn on your own

No one told you the learning process would be that complicated

No one said that you would lose some friends

No one told you about the isolation

No one told you about the broken feelings

No one told you that there may be more sad days than happy ones

But no one said it would be easy

The good thing is that

This won't last forever

This lack of knowledge is what helps you to want to know more, to become a better person

This lack of knowledge is the lessons that we learn from, and I guess that's why

No one told us about it.

- Ashea West
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Hear the children cry

I had a dream upon my bed

A million pictures floated in my head

A million cries came to my ears

Cries that brought many tears

I had a dream upon my bed

Of Spanish Town in a rain of lead

The system a terror by day, the 'shottas' by night

And to make it the children learn to fight

They don't count sheep to go to sleep

Instead count gunshots and listen to mothers weep

I heard the cry of blood mingled in the earth

Of a little one so young yet so cruelly reintroduced to the dirt

The cry of a girl who knows rape

Came face to face with a grown man where there was no escape

Who grows up to know rejection and abuse

And made to feel like she has no use

She doesn't know her worth

Because all her life she's been treated like dirt

I heard the cry of a boy forced to be a man before his time

Bound by unfortunate circumstances to be cut down in his prime

Will touch the gun at an early age

Destined to be the victim of a reprisal killing in cruel rage

Thinks it cool but doesn't know its fate

Takes quick money like a fish takes bait

A good boy with potential but no one to show him the way

The Gully and Gaza were his guides and he was never taught to pray

I had a dream upon my bed

But these voices were not in my head

I woke up and walked through the door

Then I heard them even more.

- Seon Lewis
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Overheard on a bus

Recounting the painful story of

A woman

Who was laid off her job

Losing her apartment

In the trunk of the car, she kept her toiletries

and she was thinking of making

The car a motel

Only thing left was prostitution

Blazing on, violence and tempo increasing

Preacher Lady

Revealed:

"She got a job that they gave

Her a house and pay for it

God will do it

However, you have to call for help

Call on Him, call for help

Remember is not everybody

Stay de same way

Some people I know

Have no light

In addition, de man tired all night

Him up fanning him

Daughter true she have asthma

I had was to do what I could

To help

Mother and Faada can soldier it out

However, me sey me will keep di pickney

Till de storm pass

Moreover, carry she go at school

When me can't, me mek

Arrangements wid

di parents

- Helen-Ann Wilkinson