Category: Jamaican Love Poems

Jamaican Poetry: Senses by Denise N. Fyffe

Eyes see

ears hear,

nose smell, yes they smell;

skin feels,

mouth taste,

tongue play, or so they say;

Feet walk, when they refuse to stand,

hands touch, when they refuse to lift;

Minds think, of all sort of things.

This is life, the basic and full of it.- Poetess Denise Fyffe

 

Copyright © 2014, Denise N. Fyffe

Jamaican Poetry: From Dusk till Dawn by Denise N. Fyffe

Its Dusk,
Heart beats
Memories rise
Tears race
Sounds fall like fire;
Its Dawn
Tears dried
Memories subside
The heart, barely
Survives.-Poetess Denise Fyffe

Jamaican Poetry: Tears in my eyes by Denise N. Fyffe

By: Poetess Denise N. Fyffe.
Copyright © 2017, Denise N. Fyffe

I went to bed with tears in my eyes
Caused by your words
The one’s I despise
Practised and wielded
Like a samurai sword
It wouldn’t have cut deeper
If you had called me a whore;

To you, I am an option
To me,You were the priority
An emotional conundrum
I must be a high school ditty
To form and nurture these feelings for you
Now, I’ll bury them deeper
Living as a remnant, like the Jews;

Now,
In bed with these tears in my eyes
I prepare to live beyond winter
The Arctic Circle,
Away from these emotions and prying eyes;

My pillow wet
My emotions at odds
The bitch is trying to crawl out
To devour others for this pain’s salve;

Time repeats lessons unlearned
A woman scorned, begets another man’s turn;

I lie in bed with tears in my eyes
Trying to ease this torrent of the bruised emotions inside;
I try to feel less, but it hurts even more
And writing these words
Only makes the hurt pour;

I guess I wanted you more than you wanted me
Because I tasted patience
And came second to your family;
Who am I kidding
I wasn’t even on the board
To fit in the top one hundred
Would have meant
We shared,
And you scored;

History repeats lessons unlearned
I am tired of chasing pavements
Tired of being burned
Tired of catching feelings
And not seeing them returned;

What I want,
You aren’t prepared to give
What I deserve
You don’t think it’s necessary for me to live with;

I lie in bed with tears in my eyes
Lying wake,
Crying my last cry.

 

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Copyright © 2017, Denise N. Fyffe, The Island Journal