Poetry
POEM OF THE WEEK
We Stand
We stand
With every Christian
in Afghanistan, Iraq and Iran
To those suffering at the hands of Boko Haram or the Taliban.
In Christ we are one
To every Christian Syrian
He said stand strong,
It won't be long
Today you give your lives away as a sacrifice
So they will know Christ
Tomorrow you'll rise
Great is your prize.
- Seon Lewis
The Golden girl
(Tribute to Alia Atkinson who recently equated the world record in Qatar)
A dynamic young woman
A strong, strong swimmer always unsung
Year after year
An unassuming woman with a calm face
As she entered the race
A multi talented woman
With an indomitable will
Determination and skill
Mindset to win the breaststroke
At the World Short Course Swim meet
A rocket start that nearly broke our hearts
Bolstered the swimmers
As she outpaced her rivals
Building up a commanding lead
In her quest to succeed
Swimming with power and might
Moving out of sight
Beaming with delight
This early winter's night
Pushing, pushing away
Arms silky smooth
pressing, pressing, pressing
Every inch of the way
This defining day
Setting the pool on fire
Fulfilling her heart's desire
In a golden swim far, far away
In the heart of Qatar
A woman in unbeatable form
And way ahead of the game
Romping to victory
A unique story
And the rest is history
A swim to remember
In the month of December
A golden swim, by a great
Jamaican girl
On top of the world.
- Ferdinand Boyd
It's a New Year
The old year is gone
And another starts anew,
Resolutions are being made
So many things to do.
Last year is no more; it is in the past,
Try to move on in the New Year
So you can have a fair weather forecast,
Think not of the bad things that happened in the previous year,
Look forward to the future,
Come on, let's meet up there.
Last year is gone; there is not even a trace,
But passed memories will be kept
Locked in our mental space,
We should all thank God, that we made it alive to be here,
So open your eyes and realise!
IT'S A NEW YEAR!
This time you can cover a new beginning,
Forget your loss yesterday,
For today you will be winning,
This year is last year's solution,
And I aim to be a better person this time
So what's your resolution?
Try to think positive this time around,
Imagine you are a bird
And don't anchor yourself to the ground,
Tell yourself you are going to be what you want to be,
Imagine you're the wind,
So wild ... but free!
Free to choose your own destiny this year,
I'll walk with you hand in hand
So you can overcome that fear,
I'll walk with you and tell you my story,
Because last year I was quiet and I fell short of glory.
10, 9, 8, 7, 6
Count your blessings and work on what needs to be fixed
If you've never hugged someone, let it be the first this year,
Say hi, hold a hand, cry,
Look life in the face and stare
With that being said, means you should live on
And be the brightest flare,
And so the countdown continues,
5, 4, 3,2, 1,
HAPPY NEW YEAR.
- Fabian Gabay
Keep In Touch
The conversations that we never had
The words we never said
Yes, it is easier said than done
But if we never spoke of it
Then how do we expect there to be correction?
Communication is more complex
Than you first thought
Dialogues are often taken out of context
The message is then lost in translation
We should listen to understand
Not just only listen to critique
Two ears one mouth means we should listen twice as much
Practise this in conversing in order to keep in touch
Think before you let the words free
Yes, freedom of speech may be liberating
But it comes with great responsibility
Sometimes it's not the words themselves but the tone
That makes the difference between picking or hanging up the phone
Talking is naturally instinctive to man, it's innate
Speech without teeth is just another form of rhetoric
Talk without action will not make the problem dissipate
Language can be expressive or weapons of mass destruction
Words that incite anger tend to be grievous
Soothing words, however, pacify the soul and ease the tension
Exercise this in conversing in order to keep in touch
- Adriel Williams
Father
I'm reaching but I can't feel your hands.
I can't feel the hardness of labour, wanting more for me.
I can't feel ... you.
I am reminded though that this process is like a slow fire.
And every so often I get burned ... I hurt and there's no you.
No shoe polish, no ointments, no bandages wrapped by you.
When I close my eyes, I have nightmares about fighting with myself and they look like you.
And I ache in places that only more pain soothes.
I stay up late taunting myself and I wake up imagining I was dead like you.
Because I, because I, because I, fatherless; I'm fathering the things I've used to replace you.
Raising beautiful monsters that hurt me like you.
I'm feeling kinda confused like me.
Vaguely remembering some of things I think you would have wanted for me.
I fuelled me with you and a lot of it died with you ... wanted to prove I could do it without you for me you.
I know pain demands to be felt, to be 'validated'. So why can't you acknowledge me?
- Deon Morris
