Professor Emeritus Mervyn Morris has been named Jamaica’s first Poet Laureate in 60 years. Morris, an eminent poet was named by the Tourism Minister, Dr Wykeham McNeill this morning. The … Continue reading Professor Mervyn Morris named first Poet Laureate in 60 years
Written by: Donna Bailey Nurse Kerry Young was thrilled when she received an invitation to read at the Calabash Literary Festival in Jamaica late last month. After more than four … Continue reading Jamaica and Calabash: The land of devoted offshore authors
Mi god, what a heat;
Di temperature gaan up and mi can feel nuh breeze.
Dis yah hurricane effect jus a linger sah,
Mi days dem miserable an di night dem wussarah.
Mi god, what a heat;
Everytime six o’clock come me vex.
Mi mind just linger and a watch di time;
Di clock it now a go she haf pass nine.
Not since di time of Daniel,
Me a feel dis kind a hell.
Me well waan sleep,
But mi nah lay down, pon dem deh sheet.
It tink mi nuh memba di torture mi did undah,
Mi a twist an a turn an a roll ova.
An all now mi caan get nuh sleep sah,
Mi get up fi drink some cool cool wata,
It neva mek sense mi did baddah.
When mi go inna di fridge and look fi pice a ice,
I man get a good, good surprise.
When mi look an search an dun survey,
I man nuh see di big block a ice, I lef since day.
Mi nuh knuh a wah happen to JPS, Dem jus a put mi thru bare stress.
Nuh light nuh deh, an heat nuff, God mussi a test if mi temperance tough;
Mi a sweat like a pig in july, an nuh tink mi a tell nuh lie,
Cause mi sheet dem deh deh fi testify.
But nah, it is not like dat, Mi cool river fantasy get flap.
As mi concentration it bruk, cause a di sweat a run duwn mi stomach.
All me knuh when light come an heat gaan,
Mi nah go figet dis yah 2004 Ivan storm.
It mek mi sweat, perspire an drip wata,
At di end a di day mi could a open mi own Dam a Mona;
Mi god, what a heat.
By: Denise N. Fyffe. Copyright © 2014, Poetess Denise N. Fyffe Oonu see it, Dem yah storm yah no sweet. Mi wrap up cozy inna mi bed, Nex ting mi … Continue reading Jamaican Poetry: Hurricane Gustav Storm (written in Jamaican Patois)
By: Denise N. Fyffe.
Copyright © 2012, Poetess Defy, Denise N. Fyffe
Is Jamaica due this?
Crime and violence,
Is like saliva on our lips;
Are we so jaded and blind in the eye
That we have basked
In the rays of corruption, all this time;
Is Jamaica due this?
The shootings and killings,
To the world we have been remiss;
All has happen in a span of time,
Now proves that three generations
Have been born blind;
Jamaica is due this,
Is not the cause of it;
To each and every man is assigned the blame
When he turned a blind eye,
And made the power of his opinion, tame.
I tink dis country should just stop;
Take a breath
An rally back
Mi tink it just need fi collapse…again
Just do somin drastic an reboot
Before we corrupt every single atom in di cranium of we yutes;
I tink dis worl fi jus pitch off a its axis;
Do a jig
Like it a kick off its panties;
Put on new draws
An settle down
Cause des governments,
Jus tek di whole human zombies
Fi a bag a no paint face clown;
I tink every church just need to tek a year off;
Everybaddy go home
Check yuh self
Maybe go to a bar an drink a draft;
When yuh certain, stop play hypocrite
An really acknowledge seh God exist
An yuh commit every sin yuh always a commit
Jus rally back an start again;
But start wid a united front
An cut out di hol segregated denomination dem
It is time oonu realise seh di devil done set him lies
From di moment Christ ascended
Him mek sure di gospel was gonna be watered down
An we still don’t realise dis all now;
I tink we need to check our self
Don’t wait till di world end
Don’t wait for an ephipany
Don’t wait tell you lose yuh mumma, yuh puppa
Or any one of yuh picknie dem;
We need fi just tek a second
Dat is all it tek
Hol we han up to we face
Yuh jus tek a one deck;
Bax we self, even hotter than an abusive lover
An maybe den we will see
We are no different or better from another;
We will see that we all playing fools
Acting like likkle no lamp
No oil virgins
When di clock is about to strick
Ten to di magic hour
An we still sitting like we an God hand in hand
Wielding di power;
Yuh see when we realise
Dat everyting we know
An tink is a bag of lies
Den it is going to be too late
An we would have already been led like shih tzu puppies
To di gates of hell;
Yuh heard about goin to hell inna basket
Well no such good treatment
Dem who controls jus ago tek we an fling it;
I tink dis country should just stop
I tink dis worl fi jus pitch off a its axis
I tink every church just need to tek a year off
I tink we need to check our self.
- Jamaica, She is Royal (theislandjournal.wordpress.com)
- The Natalia Chronicles Part 27 – Living up to your Potential, or not (thenataliachronicles.wordpress.com)