Nostalgia is a painful thing sometimes
When the summer is over,
Let’s accepted the unacceptable
I cannot imagine an autumn without golden leaves
A summer without the hot blasting sun
or the midst of a budding romance,

Autumn without the leaves slowly falling
To the ground,
while the cold breeze nibble our brows
No warmth from the sun:

Mother Nature the grief we feel
your unalterable changes of your teaching
Once again you have won this round
Is that your voice I heard in the distance wind?
It has been a wonderful summer this year my friend
I will continue to meditate on your words,

In a time of temptation, with no fault of my own
My summer romance is over
Early to bed, and early to rise
Followed by a hot cup of fresh mint tea
Until we meet again…..
summer of 2015

My yesterday
Rebutting my yesterday
Where my pains subsides and my
My imperfections and failures are
as much a blessing from God
~
I did my share of crying,
took my disappointment with thrive.
When life wasn’t fair,
I borrow against my
Promissory note, knowingly I couldn’t repay
I have taken so many tests,
The result always came back the same
so close
yet fail to grasp it.
~
My heart has been trampled and beaten
Somehow, I embrace, I forgive
And came back stronger
Friends all tried to warn me but I held my head up high
Knowingly imperfections and failures are
Much as a blessing from God
My yesterday was only twenty-four hours ago
The clocks go forward,
I lose an hour In the fall - I gain ...
a piece of yesterday

I really do remember those happy sun filled days
When we played outside to sundown
Using lots of profanity language like drunken sailors

I never knew the meaning of most of those words
However as kids we spoke those curse words with ease
a few of them still remain in my memory banks
Amene ta mere pourque je te refasse"
and Salope

I think we might be the last generation who got to play
Outside that late,
I asked my daughter two days ago to take the dogs outside
For an early morning walk
the response I got from her
Felt like if I asked her to go and robbed a bank
She boldly said to me mom
this is a team work,

He scratches my back and I scratch his
Why do I have to walk the mutt?
Because I said so child!

A devilish change indeed
I've seen the Oppressor's cruel words
I looked into their eyes and smile
~~
My granddad most memorable words
Look into their eyes and smile my child
Never bow your head unless it’s to pray
~~
They might have a running feud with you
Not you with them
folks fight their own demon within

It’s the tainted smell from the blood
Of the beast as it washes our dark street
And clog our drains with shame and stains

Obnoxious things that would never go away
In this age of time:
because off the vitriolic hatred and bigotry
which often lead to hate words and crime
~
Granddad said he drank, talk and laugh
with them at the pub
and watch as the rats nibble at their faces
As they fall into the ditches in society fueding
about the black race.

However, a rat isn’t going to bite you
You unless he feel threaten.
so small point keep on smiling

What do I care?
if the snow is higher than
the stop signs, but
still visible for pedestrian to see
no loading or standing zone

What do I care?
that dark lonely night is approaching
and my poor heart melt every time I think of you
what do I care

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
­
I could not, at any age, be content to take my place by the fireside and simply look on. Life was meant to be lived. Curiosity must be kept alive. One must never, for whatever reason, turn his back on life.
— Eleanor Roosevelt

Ungrateful offspring
sharper than a serpent's  tooth
a mother’s love fails

Here we are letting the
Winter darkness triggers our mood
While Jack Frost nibble our Noses
~~
The northern wind whispered the same old stories
In my ear,
I saw you in my dream
I heard your echoing laughter
your smile reminds me of a warm summer breeze
When it was you and I and the starry skies
Under the sycamore tree
Now it’s all the sniffy and the sneezes
And the
“God bless you”
I feel your pain

When I go back to the Island
and my old friends said that they miss me
I miss me too,
the old me,
The one who had the futuristic ideas
the girl with
the ***** locks braids which is
so happy and natural like the
land
the same girl with the ashy feet,
the one who work the land with her bare hands

I was like a woman land army,
wild and carefree
the same girl who  use her teeth to peel
out the hard skin and bite into the inner part of
the sugarcane and chew it.

who planted Roses, Morning Glories
with a smile
The one who loaded sharp blades sugarcanes
on to the high trucks
in the relentless hot sun
or frigid rain
with aches and pain
and drank water from the pitchers
until the sun go down;

Somehow, that girl survive those hard days
Even when she dance until dawn to the
sweet sound of the reggae beat
and the oldies Goldie's tunes

The one who woke up early to catch the 5:20 am bus
to travel miles to work in
Wildleys for minimum wages.

So when I go back to the islands
And my old friends say they miss me
Old friends brings all of the memories
back into the present state of mind
for a woman who is growing old

I love the way you said
“Yes darling, my honey
It makes me feel good inside
your touch
that look in your eyes
became an instant hallmark memory
From someone who really cares

I divided my tears into section
With each drop, with each snuffle
With each tissue: I thread
I remembering the good times we shared
Yesterday, was your birthday
today: it’s my revelation:   I  have taken
another course in my life: unlike the blackbird
I once encounter
Who were entangled with kite strings
high in the branch of a tree
his scary beaded eyes, his Okalee  frightening sounds

His destiny had lies in the hands that set him free
I remember standing there for a moment
and wondered, what would this bird ever do for me
if I set him free
however,  as we all know God blessed heroes
that day I was his hero

Today he is my revelation.
I never thought of that bird until this morning
I suppose he is long gone,
Since, the lifespan of a bird is short
But, I would always remember that little black bird
entangled in the mahogany tree: who taught me
the true meaning of empathy

Better to remain silent and be thought a fool
Than to speak out and remove all doubt.”

― Abraham Lincoln
……………………..
Conversation with older folks always
Makes us think about
How complex we are
When asked 80 to 90 percent of older people
How are they doing?
Most replies are the same
“Child I am just waiting.
Waiting!
For what
To meet my maker”
From the time we were born
Plans were made for us
About our life
What are you going to be?
When we grow up
And soon has one become an adult
Our thoughts about dying
Frighten us
You are born then you die
Life might be simple for some
However, it a race to
get over unfairness of life

I met my third grade teacher last year
The first thing she said to me
“Did you follow your dreams?
A moment in an instant world
I felt like she were in control
^
She is much older now
However, nothing has change
We born, then we die
No matter how hard we try
The ropes never seem to loosen

E-mail sent from Heaven

Written on gold and silver stone
Contents
My people have gone astray
to each his or her own way.

My Brethren is texting all over the land.
the lambs and sheep continues to be
slaughter by man.

As the undocumented skilled workers
watered the neighbor lawn
while the master of the home video tape ****.
neglecting his family in his home land

My creation has disappointed me tremendously
evil overpowered the good in man
therefore, no ending to this horror across the lands.

The popping sound of the firecrackers,
or was it the sound of DSM thirty four
rose to the heaven
the arch Angel sound the sirens

Man down, man down,
as the scream echoes in the airwaves,
another mother son lay dying
due to street violence,
Black on black crime
white and black catastrophe.
an frequents outbursts in society
by idle hands of a youth insanity.

The window are eyes ,
as it quickly closes its curtain
to a life uncertain.
so
its fades into a slumber.
building fear into the heart of the citizens.

Suffer the fool gladly
that he or she might see
the destruction of their ways.

CEASE FIRE ON STREET VIOLENCE.

Zorro black whip

She carries her beauty with her,
Like a gift from the angels beyond.
May peace and love pave her way?
Lovely as a lily floating on the pond...
She became the best con artist
That every exists
She whispered softly
I ‘m going to pin you to my bed
I’ll outline your body with my tongue
Let wait for that instant reaction
My honk of a man
She wasn’t the average frigid woman
Only the best black adulteress
with Zorro’s black whip
As she continues to show off her
Sexuality and power play
Close your eyes and feel the cold ice
as it numb your ******* hard
let my sultry voice calm your nerves
She said
Tiny droplets of water roll down his lovely spine
the shine on his  face beam from excitement
so once again he asked of him to
Relax!
and hold all explosives until the end
Allowing her siren sultry voice:
  to calm his nerves
Flipping over and reversing the roll
Snapped! Snapped
Pleasure and pain
  Was all in the ****** game
She carries her beauty with her,
Like a gift from the angels beyond.
May peace and love pave her way?
Lovely as a lily floating on the pond...
She became the best con artist
From out west
Only the best black adulteress
with a whip

One must take charge of his or her own life
Someone once wrote that
Life, like marbles block is given to all,
However, everybody doesn’t know how to layered such blocks
Even if they read the manuals on life and survival skills
With careful observation, it seem that the local
women spirit cracks so easily on the small Island of Bim
as the men moves on to other women’s
Leaving many on suicidal watch

I visited my old friends, on the island as time permits
And nothing seem to change, they older folks
Weakness still shows:
they lives seem to be on a standstill,

The little island girl in me Grieves within for them
Over the years, I have grown into a stronger woman
I demand respect from my friends,
especially the men

Its more women and not enough men to fulfill
Their ****** appetites, so life on the island become a *** war,
Infidelity is higher than ever,
where the flying fish is plentiful
whereas, some of the women seem so pitiful.

Older men with younger women
The middle-aged women either have to join a church
Or unfortunately,
lined the walls of the dance hall,
or pubs
While looking for love in all the wrong places,

The nights slowly moves into the wean hours of the morning
while the Barskeepers promotes the beer three for ten dollars
Snip snaps sounds is heard throughout their establishments
It seems more like humiliation than enjoyment
In the meantime broken hearts merges all over the place

The only patronage that seem to be having a time of
their lives was the tourists from abroad, who show
signs of unsteady gaits; but were having a wonderful time
On the Island of Bim

The barbecues grills filterers golden spark,
the music
Entices the air
the salted breeze, balm our lips even
Merging with the taste of the Bank beers,
and it was all well
on the island for that short period.
However, with all my finding and frustration, nothing
Can beat cold, cold coconut water
or a refreshing Bank Beer