Poetry Night Was Postponed

Yes the poetry night was postponed to next week. Unfortunately, I won't be in Antigua to take part, I'll be in St. Thomas visiting my brother. Oh well.

Morning

Why were mornings created?
It's a question that pops
Into my mind
Every morning
When my eyes are forced to open,
Even when they don't have to.
When the sun is in the east
And I wish my windows
Pointed west.

But, alas,
I can't rue
The fact that morning exists.
It being the beginning
Of another day,
Of new things to come.
And soon the night,
When I become more alive.
But I still hate mornings
And I have to live with it.

My Best Friend

She is my everything,
My cheerleader
When I become my own heckler.
My moon,
When the nights
Of my life seem too dark.
My inspiration
When I'm blocked
By the wall
That stops me from creating.

Without her,
I am nothing,
Just an empty shell
On the landscape of life.
Without her,
My sanity is a fond memory,
That is fading fast
Into the dark abyss
Of insanity.

She is you,
You are my friend,
You are my best friend
And I can't think
Of life without you.
Thanks and I love you.

(pic: vi.sualize.us)

Mrs. Meyers

As I live this life,
I have met many people,
I will meet many people,
And they will be parts of my life.

One such person
Is you Mrs. Meyers.
You have supported me
In my poetry,
You always seem to have
A smile on your face,
Always ready to help others,
If not at the library,
At CLASP.

Even though
You are missing
From the walls of books
Your aura which will never leave
Flows through each avenue of literature.

I have been given a blessing,
So have others
And so will others.
That blessing was you.

* This poem was written for the former head of the public library. To say that she was a phenomenal woman is an understatement. She helped me go beyond my comfort zone and it was only now that I realized that.

Taking A Little Break

Visit Kimolisa Was Here for an explanation.

Let It Hide My Tears

Let the rain fall,
Let it hide my tears.
Let it hide them from you.

Let the sun shine,
Let it dry my tears.
I can't have you see them.

Let the wind blow,
Let it blow away my tears,
And take them away from your sight.

Let the snow fall,
Let it draw your attention away from me
And my falling tears.

Oh Mother Nature,
Hide my tears from my beloved,
Cause I don't want him to see me cry.

Poetry In Motion - The Finale?

So I got the email and facebook message saying that because of the Summer Season activities, the last Poetry In Motion will be on the 28th of this month (May). Then I got insider info on why it may not continue at the Coast and all I can think is another one bites the dust. Poetry in Antigua would rear it's head up and then die into obscurity. It's making me think that it should not be a weekly or monthly thing, more like every two months or three. Who ever puts it on pump it with energy to pull the poets, who in turn will pump it into the audience.

Unfortunately, I should not be saying all this because if I'm not producing a poetry night, I should not not be saying someone should do things. Plus I don't have the energy right now to do it, nor the time or resources. I'll stick to posting my poems up on this blog.

I think I've been lax, my other blog, Kimolisa Was Here, is catching up in posts and I think I started that a month after this. It's also funny that I said I was going to post only once a week on that one.

Oh, that reminds me I have to call Kush about the video from one of the Poetry Night. I'm going to do that right now.

OXOXo

Blanket

Blackness rolls around us
From the Big Pop
To the Big Suck
Of an imploding sun
Turning into a black hole,
As black as my soul.

I rise in my bed,
Blackness on my left.
My right.
Front and back.
Hugging me like
A favourite blanket.

A blanket, I'm tired of,
Tired of it's touch,
It's warmth in summer,
It's coolness in winter.
Just tired.

In that blackness,
I wish there lay
Another person,
Strong, smart, funny,
Complementing me
Who would be
My new favourite blanket.

But I make do
With this blanket,
This blackness
And hope and pray
It doesn't smother me,
Suffocate me.
In blackness.

Never Been

I've never been kissed,
Cause I never got kissed by you.

I've never been hugged,
Cause I never got hugged by you.

I've never had sweet nothings
Whispered in my ear,
Cause it wasn't done by you.

I've never been loved,
Cause I never been loved by you.

Rose Coloured Glasses

I sat under a tree
On a hill
Above a war ravaged country side.

Below me,
There was destruction
And chaos.

Out of my pocket
I pulled out my rose coloured glasses
And put them on.

The scenery changed,
Where where was destruction,
There was beauty.
Where there was hate,
love resided.
Where there was war,
Peace reigned.

One day,
I thought,
Some day,
I won't need these glasses.
Some day,
One day,
I'll see peace
Without rose coloured glasses.

*To be honest, I can't remember if I posted this before.

Time

It started millions of years ago
At the age of a second.
It had seen Adam and Eve.
It was there when Jesus was born
And there when he died.

Strong and sure it kept it's pace,
It had a name, Time,
But no children,
Then Jesus died
And man gave him a child.

It's first child was called
A Year,
And from him,
Months were borne,
And from them,
Days.
These were measured by how long
There was light.

The years
Gave birth to months or moonths.
Each month having 31, 30 or 28 days.
These days themselves had hours,
Twenty four to be exact.

As time grew old,
The hours gave birth to minutes,
Each having sixty.
Those minutes had seconds,
They also had sixty,

Father time is old,
But he continues,
Never ending
Always continuing .
He shall go on
Even if man dies away,
Because he is time
And Time must go on.

*This poem I had to edit a bit because for one, I couldn't even read my own handwriting, two, at some places it didn't make sense.

(pic: time.com)

A Night To Remember

The night has begun,
They head towards
The old building on 4th.
Friends await them there,
Ready for the night to come.

A plan has formed
To the building on 7th,
The 7-11.
They have guns,
From Big Papa.

In the enemy colours,
The enter,
Looking around,
Checking the scene.
Then they get down to business.

Chi Chi takes out his pistol,
Points it at the keeper
Who reaches for the air.
He knows the routine,
He's been there before.

They rob the place,
It was the biggest haul of the week.
Soon the sirens are heard.
Damn, they got to go.
They rush for the back
Where Leon got the car
And soon they are gone.

They breath a sigh of relief,
They head back to 4th,
But something is wrong.
They turn the bend
And there at the building
Are the Red Jays.
They commence fire,
And soon their job is over.

The night ends,
Chi Chi and the others
Are dead,
But it's all good,
Cause there will be less grief
For the OG's are down.
(pic: silive.com)

Strange

AAAAAAHHHHH!!!!
My mind is in a swirl,
A swirl of confusion,
And frustration.

"Why is my mind
In a state of confusion
And frustration?" they ask.
Well, I'm feeling frustrated and confused.

The cause of my confusion?
Easy question,
Hard answer.

I am strange,
I dwell in my strangeness,
But I am surrounded
By the normal.

I am influenced to think
That strange is wrong,
But that is what they say,
And I know different,
But still can be influenced.

The cause of my frustration,
I am forced to be normal,
I am referred to as
The "wrong" strange
And I am trapped,
For two years.

So to conclude
I am confused and frustrated,
My mind is in a swirl,
Which ironically
Makes me stranger.
AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

*These last two poems I've posted I found in a little book I had and I liked the poems I wrote in the book. For this particular poem, I think I was on the verge of becoming normal. I hated and I'm going to learn to hate that. I want to have fun, I want to do my thing and not care of the ramifications, I want to live and enjoy this one life I have. I lost that along the way when I took on everyone's hang ups. Each one I carried until they were my own and I lost sight of who I was and what I want. Well more of that in my other blog.

(pic:Sopheava de Lumiere)

She

She left the night before
To Shequan's house,
She said.

The next morning,
I woke,
She wasn't in her bed.

I went into the kitchen,
Mama was slouching over the counter,
Her eyes red.

I asked where She was,
Mama looked at me,
Then wept.

I went to school,
Everyone looked at me
With sympathy in their eyes.
Something was wrong.

I came home,
The police were there.
Something was definitely wrong.

Mama took me aside
When I went in,
And took me to my room.

Mama looked me in my eyes,
Then said what was wrong.
She was gone.
She was killed.
She was my sister.