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Caribbean Poetry
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OL' HIGUE by Wordsworth McAndrew
Ol' woman wid de wrinkled skin, Leh de ol' higue wuk begin. Put on you fiery disguise, Ol' woman wid de weary eyes Shed you swizzly skin.
Ball o' fire, raise up high Raise up till you touch de sky. Land 'pon top somebody roof Tr'ipse in through de keyhole - Open you ol' higue eye.
Find de baby where 'e lie Change back faster than de eye. Find de baby, lif de sheet, Mek de puncture wid you teet', Suck de baby dry.
Before 'e wake an' start to cry Change back fast, an' out you fly. Find de goobie wid you skin Mek de semidodge, then - Grin you ol' higue grin.
In you dutty powder gown Next day schoolchildren flock you round. "Ol' higue, ol' higue!" dey hollerin' out Tek it easy, hold you mout' Doan leh dem find you out.
Dey gwine mark up wid a chalk Everywhere wheh you got to walk You bridge, you door, you jealousie But cross de marks an' leh dem see Else dey might spread de talk.
Fly across dis window sill, Why dis baby lyin' so still? Lif' de sheet like how you does do, Oh God! Dis baby nightgown blue! Run fo' de window sill!
Woman you gwine run or not? Doan mind de rice near to de cot. De smell o' asafoetida Like um tek effect 'pon you. You wan' get kyetch or what?
But now is too late for advice, 'Cause you done start to count de rice An' if you only drop one grain You must begin it all again. But you gwine count in vain.
Whuh ah tell you?
Day done, light an' rice still mountin' Till dey wake an' kyetch you countin' An' pick up de big fat cabbage broom An' beat you all around de room. Is now you should start countin'
Whaxen! Whaxen! Whaxen! Plai! You gwine pay fo' you sins befo' you die. Lash she all across she head You suck me baby till um dead? Whaxen! Whaxen! Plai!
You feel de manicole 'cross you hip? Beat she till blood start to drip. "Ow me God! You bruk me hip! Done now, nuh? Allyou done!"
Is whuh you sayin' deh, you witch? Done? Look, allyou beat de bitch. Whaxen! Whaxen! Pladai! Plai! Die, you witch you. Die. Whaxen! Whaxen! Plai!
DEATH OF A COMRADE by Martin Carter
Death must not find us thinking that we die too soon, too soon our banner draped for you I would prefer the banner in the wind Not bound so tightly in a scarlet fold not sodden, sodden with your people's tears but flashing on the pole we bear aloft down and beyond this dark, dark lane of rags. Now, from the mourning vanguard moving on dear Comrade, I salute you and I say Death will not find us thinking that we die.
by Martin Carter (1953)
You come in warships terrible with death I know your hands are red with Korean blood I know your finger trembles on a trigger And yet I curse you – Stranger khaki clad. British soldier, man in khaki careful how you walk My dead ancestor Accabreh is groaning in his grave
At night he wakes and watches with fire in his eyes Because you march upon his breast and stamp upon his heart.
Although you come in thousands from the sea Although you walk like locusts in the street Although you point your gun straight at my heart I clench my fist above my head; I sing my song of Freedom!
How Do I Love Thee
West Indian Style Author Unknown
Let me count the ways .... You are the essence in my mauby De fish in my fishcakes I love you love you dearly You are the lardoil in my bakes.
You are the coconut in my sweetbread De pigtail in my rice Just like piece of curry goat head I will love you till I dead.
You are the sardine in my gravy The dumplings in my soup I love you more than gambling Yes I love you bad fah true
Like banana leaf around my conkie I'll be always close to you Sweet like sugar in your green tea I'll do anything for you.
You are the sauce around my Cou Cou Hot like sweetbread when it done In my arms I love to hold you Just like a glass a rum.
I will stick to you like dandruff Like the corns upon your toes Like the fat around your belly I'll be everywhere you go.
Cause you are my black pudding And I know I am your souse When you call I will coming running Like when a boar cat see a mouse.
Oh my pepper on my pork chop Sweet like sorrel when it mix When my hands caress your body You feel just like a couple-
You are sweeter than a snowcone I will give you all I own You are sweeter than a hambone Soft and sweet like piece'o'pone.
No one can take me from you Not in this life or death.
The Virgin Mary Had a Baby Boy (A traditional West Indian Christmas Carol) The Virgin Mary had a baby boy The Virgin Mary had a baby boy The Virgin Mary had a baby boy And they say that his name is Jesus He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom, Oh yes, believer, oh, yes, believer He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom,
The angels sang when the baby was born The angels sang when the baby was born The angels sang when the baby was born And they sang that his name is Jesus He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom, Oh yes, believer, oh, yes, believer He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom,
The shepherds came where the baby was born The shepherds came where the baby was born The shepherds came where the baby was born And they say that his name is Jesus He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom, Oh yes, believer, oh, yes, believer He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom,
The wise men saw when the baby born The wise men saw where the baby born The wise men went where the baby born And they said that his name is Jesus He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom, Oh yes, believer, oh, yes, believer He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom,
They saw the star over Bethlehem They saw the star over Bethlehem The trailed that star over Bethlehem To the crib of the child named Jesus He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom, Oh yes, believer, oh, yes, believer He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom,
They found a manger in Bethlehem They found a manger in Bethlehem And in that manger in Bethlehem They worshipped the child named Jesus He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom, Oh yes, believer, oh, yes, believer He come from the Glory, He come from the Glorious Kingdom,
Not I With This Torn Shirt
They call here, -
Province of mud! Province of flood! Plantation -
Who are the magnificent here? Not I with this torn shirt But they, in their white mansions By the trench of blood!
I tell you This is no magnificent province No El Dorado for me No streets paved with gold But a bruising and battering for self preservation In the white dust and the grey mud
I tell you and I tell no secret - Now is long past time for worship Long past time for kneeling With clasped hands at altars of poverty.
THE LEGEND OF KAIETEUR
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1. Now Makonaima, the Great Spirit dwelt In the huge mountain rock that throbbed and felt The swift black waters of Potaro's race Pause on the lip, commit themselves to space And dive the half mile to the rocks beneath. Black were the rocks with sharp and angry teeth And on those rocks the eager waters died, Above the gorge that seethed and foamed and hissed Rose, resurrected into lovely mist.
The rock He lived in towered a half mile high So that it seemed a rival to the sky And over it this living mist He drew To curtain off Divinity from view. He gave it too the privilege to choose To take the glory of the rainbow's hues To wear at morning, and for changed delight The marvelous sunsets of the tropic night. From day to day, behind this rainbowed screen, The Father, the inscrutable, unseen, Would ponder on His domain of the earth And all the nations He had given birth
And He caused flowers to weave upon the ground Their rich embroideries, and He set around The village where each tribe worked all day long A veritable tapestry of song
2. From birds that in the branches built their bowers And spent within the shade quick musical hours, So every wind blew peace and fortune down From the sweet heavens, and everywhere was sung A song of praise to the Great spirit above That fathered them in kindliness and love
And every moon each tribe would come and float Upon the stream a sacrificial boat New- And watch it gain speed as it neared and shoot Over the rock into the gorge below.
And as the waters, so the centuries flow Until the savage Caribishi came And put the Patamona to the flame. They came by night and took them in their sleep Slaughtered the guards and drove away the sheep Ravished the women, burnt their huts and shields, A few, the merest remnant, took to flight And under shelter of the friendly night Escaped from the pursuing torches sent To slay them in the caches where they went. These took the terrible tidings of the raid To the far camp their restless kin had made On the Potaro- And counsel what defenses they could make
3. Old Kaie was chief in counsel. He was wise Over a hundred seasons had those eyes See in their passage. Time had made the dim But with its wisdom compensated him. He knew the cures for all men's ills and fears And he had words for women in their tears To comfort them. He set all day and talked Unto the tribe, for painfully he walked On legs like rotten trunks wherein chigoes Had nested and made caves of all his toes
Just now he counseled, "Since our arms are small I and another to the mountain wall Will go to question Makonaima's will What He requires that we must fulfill In sacrificial offerings. He is kind His orders will chase fear out of our mind." Then someone murmured "But can Kaie's feet stand The troublesome journey through steep, rocky land?" Flame sprang to Kaie's eyes, "Will you never learn, From what the mind wills, body will not turn?" So the next morning labored up the slope Kaie and the one other with their ropes
4. Strapped round their backs, their bags of magic art With all the stuff that in their spells had part. Kaie's feet oft staggered and the westering sun Was swallowed up by night, the day was done Before they came upon the slab of stone That ends the path to the Great Spirit's home Alone
They stood while the vast starry night was full Of falling water. Kaie felt his pull His arm. "Look there," "Yes, Makonaima's birds, They are His messengers, they speak His words, These small black cruiser birds, they fly in flocks And feed on lana seed among the rocks. " And now the birds made swoopings round the pair And chattering, brushed Kaie's cheek and kissed his ear.
Twice, thrice, they did this. Then with sudden flight They wheeled and veered off through the seeing Night. Then in a voice that swelled and sank and broke With the great wealth of joy he felt, Kaie spoke "Oh, great is Makonaima and the words That he has spoken by message of his birds. I must go down the passage of the river.
5. That I may sit before His face for ever In His great house, the everlasting rock. And He has promised that no harm, no shock Shall bruise our people, for His Watch and ward Shall circle us and He shall be our guard. I am accounted for a sacrifice For all the tribe. You with your younger eyes Shall see the offering that you may tell How boldly Kaie clasped such a death, how well He lost his life to save his threatened race And shadow them with the eternal peace."
So in the morning, while the dim mist wrestled And the fall thundered and the deep gorge seethed That other sat at vantage by the wall And scanned the river to the waterfall. He saw the sun o'er- Tide after tide of golden ray and glow
6. Against the fall, flood full on its attire, Its misty veil, and catch that mist afire. Amazed, he stared. The opalescent light Deepened and sank and changed. Then in his sight Below the point that Kaie had bid him mark He saw Kaie in a sacrificial bark.
The frail boat bobbed and bucked within the grip Of the live waters that hurried it to the lip Over the abyss. Kaie then raised his tall Huge bulk in the boat and towered over the fall, A cruciform over the flaming mist. Then with a force that nothing could resist The boat rent all that misty veil in two, Drawing a dark line down the rainbow hue. But of Kaie's body never showed a trace, He sat with Makonaima, before his face.
On the occasion of the Kingston Great Flood of 1855 in Georgetown, Guyana Writer unknown
Be sober my muse, and with gravity tell What sad havoc and ruin all Kingston befel; How the sea swept away all the dam and its smouses Made canals, Noah's arks of the houses, How some bridges blew up, how some houses came down, And together went wandering over the town.
PEACE by Patricia (Pat Cameron)
Peace! A gentle word Speak ... it gently The soft word's sibilance Whispers of an Allness An Holy Healing Whispers of God's presence Ever Near Ever Here Everywhere!
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Ol' Higue - Death of a Comrade - I Clench My Fist - How Do I Love Thee - The Virgin Mary Had a Baby Boy - Not I With This Torn Shirt - The Legend of Kaieteur - (On the Kingston Great Flood) - Peace - |