There was a promised life
Given to a certain girl,
Down from the train,
A black girl named Jula.

    Who are you Jula?
    Jula knows her name.

Jula! Master plays his song,
(The voice of money)
- help around the house,
Help around the rooms,
Help for me Jula!

   Jula knows her name.

Jula was called to be whatever
Master needed,
To look to his desireous needs,
Jula just a girl.

Come Jula,
Take me away to better days,
Dance for me Jula!
(Voice of the Master)

    Jula bathes in a wooden
    Barrel, she got no shoes,
    Go Jula, serve like royalty,
    Go Jula, shine like my star!
    Sing for me Jula!

Jula knows her name:

  "They say that God knows all,
    So He knows Jula and made
    Her life like it is,
    This is Jula's destiny,
    God made it this way"
Now Master preaches.

  Jula knows her name,
  Who are YOU Jula?

Jula, mistress of the Master,
Put him to bed,
Naked she lay next to him,
Jula, she knows her name.

   Who are you Jula?
   You just a little girl,
   Where is your song?

The Master calls,
The Master's hands tired
From wielding the whip,
Come here Jula!
Come here Jula!
The slave girl stripped,
The slave girl *****,
Jula knows her name.

   Jula, where is my food?
   Master tired from the whippin',
    Master needs his food,
     Jula know her name.

Jula, who are you Jula?
Jula knows her name.

A dialect
so different
that gargles from our gulping mouths
was formed in the teenage years
the gap between child and adult.
It was formed in between the steaming windows
of our first shared room
was wrought by the sticky fingers of our midnight-feasting.
It developed over time,
your African ancestors licking at the chocolate in your teeth
sharing mingled moments of warmth and sadness
with the carefree twang of my pacific past.
We lay together
your dark skin melting into mine
and over time
our throats sculpted their own language
as Babylonian linguists rejoiced
at the Genesis of us.

But over time
the grammar stumbled
and diplomacy broke between us,
and the shared bed of our childhood
was cracked open by the semantics of our youth.
My tongue clung to the dancing prose,
as if to return to the moment of our first embrace,
my sheets ached for the scent of your skin;
Arched back missing your equatorial warmth.
I gushed out words for you
Choking on damp notions of our shared past.
I tried to force in the commas
that married your phrase to mine;
straining to utter those sounds that were so sacredly ours .
But my verses had no meaning,
when the apostle lost all faith.

And then
one day
like breath returning to a body,
our dialect once again filled you
head to toe, heavy with the wet weight of love.
And just as before
you spilled into my arms
Our tongues mingled in a garbled kiss
Of language, more physical than my owns hands
clinging to your butter-skin.
I felt you breathing against my heart
heard whispered extracts of your internal litanies
drifting out through parted lips.
And I felt again
the mangled words
the beautiful drawl
This dialect, so definitely ours.

....
From womb  to born
Every morn
Each breath
Even on the road of death
I’m alone
Walking with broken bone

While the Summer wind blows
In this narrow lane
Love flows in my wide vein
As the Streams of heavy rain
Alone else
Only the past tense

In the dark, I hark
A distant bark
In the dream there was
A beautiful park
With a few sign of paws
Yet I couldn’t find any cause

The Streams going down
While flowing in this old town
The Stone grew worn and torn
Rolling else alone
Like my broken bone
.......
@Musfiq us shaleheen

Sometimes its good
To start the cycle over
To erase all the troubles
The subsequently haunt your
Dawning future
And just be free
Even its for an inkling
Just start over.

where the tick tock of time is forgot
eternity makes claim
more
rushes in to fill and be fulfilled
she knows her time, what time it is
your sweet essence in union.

Beautiful view mist at distance
I sat staring with a glance
this pink world wide open
is this real, may I hope...n..

so sweet breathtaking colours
soft blue and pink makes purple
oh gosh...I want to walk fastest
but I am in slow-motion like a turtle

that sweet caress where comes it from
that one sweetest kiss at my night's prom
I feel it, I see it's heaven
I see my neighbour in black...n..

Paradise purple, pink and blue
I sat staring I think it's you
acropolic scene yet misty dew
in this mystery land, my sweet, I see only you !

© Sylvia Frances Chan