Poems

Jamaica Rising

The stage curtain is drawn

and the drums roll

to reveal -

a hurricane’s tragic toll

the destruction -

of extreme wind and rain

laying bare our nation’s pain

but, so too, our resolve

to rise again!

You see-

the wrath of a category five

just ignites Jamaican pride

is we yuh a try scare?!

never you dare!

to rahtid!

we fight back-

fierce, strong and united!

Yes Melissa!

yuh wicked sista!

we’re here still

together, we will rebuild

we have a warrior spirit to uphold

we of this blessed land -

of the black green and gold!

No Melissa!

we’re not gone

we will soldier on

wi likkle but wi tallawah!

we will grow stronger and stronger!

so -

just know

when next the drums roll

and the stage curtain is drawn

it will unveil

Jamaica’s shining new dawn!

– Norman Davis

# # #

Greatness

Excellence or the greatness

The two have

A fundamental difference;

The integrity of excellence

Is reflected

From one’s own pure inner self

But conventionally

The greatness is simply thrust upon

Or worn like

An expensive Pashmina shawl

Embroidered with conceit.

Excellence grows naturally

Without any ambition

It exudes fragrance

Pervading the atmosphere

Like flowers do.

But the greatness

Is often transplanted

On barren grounds,

Fed with the fodder of prejudices

And constantly watered

With showers of sycophancy

And decorated periodically

With sprinkling of trinkets too.

Excellence, certainly embodies

Some natural greatness

But search of

The acquired greatness

Hasn’t ever revealed

Any evidence

Of excellence in it

Anywhere.

– Bimal Saigal

# # #

Resilience

The land still saturated from yesterday’s tears breathes in the freshness of morning, a welcome scent of survival.

The sun finds its way, piercing through the drenched earth’s sorrow, casting light on what endured.

Trees stand tall, though many leaves fell in battle.

Their silence speaks of resilience.

Birdsong returns in splendour, a chorus of life reclaiming its place.

Puddles shimmer mirrors of memory, scattered reminders of what passed.

Dark clouds, once heavy with grief, now drift with renewed purpose.

And calm, once taken for granted returns unassumingly.

– Wayne Campbell