On the Beach that day  
Somewhere near Olsten’s Bay
Wind whistle as the tourist passed by
My heart felt light, yet it felt heavy:
Blue Caribbean Sea water, wrap around me
Like an invisible burrito

White sands cover my brown toes,
My one size fit all bathing suit cling against my
Pear shape body: my thoughts were unstilled:
                Frightening:

the surrounding was a perfect fit for true lovers,
Somehow, I felt trap in a circle,
what it love or pity for this mortal
“A man cannot be comfortable without his own approval.” ~Mark Twain

I suppose I was that man/woman:
Rejection is the most unforgettable thing
Move on, rub dirt on it. (Malarkey)!
Why did we allow this to happen to us?
Why did he allow this to happen to him?

Deuteronomy 21:15-17
“If a man has two wives, the one loved and the other unloved, and both the loved and the unloved have borne him children, and if the firstborn son belongs to the unloved, then on the day when he assigns his possessions as an inheritance to his sons, he may not treat the son of the loved as the firstborn in preference to the son of the unloved, who is the firstborn, but he shall acknowledge the firstborn, the son of the unloved, by giving him a double portion of all that he has, for he is the first fruits of his strength. The right of the firstborn is his.

It not a good thing to play a hero!!

We might have made love
In the bed of roses: A bed of fragrant flowers 
As we consummate the joy of true love: at age sixty

where the pursuit of pleasure: is a taboo subject
where the Bailey Irish Cream warms our soft lips:

We might have reversed the aging process, because
our bodies become fascinating and seductive: coherent kingdom

We might have rattled the monkey cage: like epic lovers growing old
With one thing on our minds: we follow our hearts

When You Loved Someone

When you loved someone, the world transformed. You’d shoot the moon and extinguish the sun, all in the name of that someone. The hunger in your belly became secondary; their nourishment mattered more. Your compass spun, recalibrating their magnetic pull. Family receded, replaced by the gravitational force of love.

Miles blurred into insignificance as you traversed continents, chasing their presence. Sanity, once a steadfast companion, now wrestled with your heart. “Madly in love,” they called it, as if madness and love were inseparable twins. Perhaps they were.

I rarely pen love poems; they demand feeling, not just ink. Was I ever in love, or merely enamored with an idea? The fairytales painted love in black and white, but reality’s palette is richer. Love, like accents, can deceive. Wicked tongues weave spells, and the voice of seduction whispers secrets in Ghanian Twi.

Yet, amidst the chaos, one truth remains: love drives us to madness, but true love rests on honesty. If your lovers change like seasons, they were never anchored in truth. Your house may be quieter now, but it’s a silence built on authenticity—a lie untold, because you love someone.

Summary: Love, both wild and tender, shapes our lives. Amidst the tumult, seek the truth—the quiet strength that endures. 🌟❤️

When you write in prose, you cook the rice. When you write poetry, you turn rice into rice wine. Cooked rice doesn't change its shape, but rice wine changes both in quality and shape. Cooked rice makes one full so one can live out one's life span . . . wine, on the other hand, makes one drunk, makes the sad happy, and the happy sad. Its effect is sublimely beyond explanation." - Wu Qiao

When I was teenager,
it was pens, papers and stamps,
  two week of waiting,
to see  if the  mailman would deliver
  those special letters from your
pen pals from around the world,

Nowadays it's Facebook, Instagram, whatapp
The Likes and dislikes,
disgraced and lambasting
Total strangers on the internet.
Whatever happened to the human race?

A

Whispers of the Heart

To fall for someone, a forbidden dance—
A waltz with shadows, a silent trance.
Accept the unacceptable, bury those feelings,
In the quiet chambers where desire conceals.
Filter photos, snapshots of dreams,
Reflections of what you imagine, it seems.
A mirror held up to the (perfect) you,
A sexier version, a fantasy come true.
As poets, we see things differently,
Through kaleidoscope eyes, we set them free.
The mundane, the ordinary, they transform,
Just like scented perfume, our senses swarm.
Reacting to life’s chemistry, we compose—
Ink bleeding emotions, secrets it knows.
So tired, so tired, my heart’s weary plea,
Echoing Elizabeth Browning’s symphony.
She, too, composed her inner feeling,
A sonnet of longing, a soul’s revealing.
Can you trust yourself to fall for fools?
Convincingly, they dance on love’s slippery rules.
A slippery love of devotion, dangerously sweet—
A precipice where hearts and reason meet.
And so we write, ink staining our hands,
Capturing the ache, the beauty, the sands.

Whispers of Youth

Dusty boxes, like forgotten books, Hold chapters of quantum leaps— My first steps, tiny and determined, Leading to a world of wonders.

Goat’s milk, flavored with Grenada nutmeg, A remedy for cow’s blandness, And lactose intolerance—the secret code Of those simpler days.

Cod liver oil, Sunday mornings’ ritual, Bitter drops to ward off unseen foes, Mumps, measles, whooping cough— Childhood’s battles etched in time.

Curiosity fueled my quest: Pebbles, night crickets, butterflies— Each a treasure, carefully collected, One line at a time.

And that snarky bird, Caged, then set free— Freedom’s squeak of happiness, A lesson etched in feathers.

The kitchen window, a gateway, Its slight squeak echoing freedom. The bird, banana thief turned guardian, A debt repaid in whispers.

Childhood memories preserved, Not just atop that distant hill, But in the flutter of wings, And the quiet moments we cherish.

🌼

The morning sun appears showing us
Who is the star of the day?
It shows it power, until the rain
Comes out to play:

It sends a message to the evening shadow
Asking of it to confuse the night,
With diamond shape stars,
and moonlight and magnolias trails,
Light up the sky with star lights

We need the light, more than the dark
But we need both the sun and the rain
Said the weather man from sandy lane:
But who one needs the icy snow,
That one has to go:
It reveals it hatred just like the evil Snow Queen
So each morning  as you wake, think of how
The morning sun appears showing us
Who is the star of the day?

##“If you want to be reminded of the love of the Lord, just watch the sunrise.” ##
― Jeannette Walls, Half Broke Horses

Every poet should be responsible for his poetic language
Every scientist should be held responsible for his/her own action
My birthday in the year of the corvid 19, will be different
I wouldn’t bother to confirm with the ground hog on this matter.
He too is refusing to come out, he detest the humans
The righteous will possess the earth, and they will live forever on it.”. — Psalm 37:29.
From what is going on I might have to debate this verse.
Would you agree with the poet?
Where there is action they will be a reaction
Leadership money and power
Is this what we are dying for?
"Whoever keeps his mouth and his tongue?
keeps his soul from troubles"
We all love a good story.
With a good ending,
What is going on today is not a story
Our next generation is going to have a hard time
Explaining this to their next generation of survivors
What happen in 2019, was an act of greed
It is the reality, of mad virology scientist went mad.
If this vaccine doesn’t work what will be our next move?
When your boss take his clean non corvid 19 facilities and
Turn it into a corvid 19 center,
What would a poet call this move (greed $$$)
All this poet can say.. “Let wait and see”.
Crave all loss all. one who wants everything, may lose it all

Whose name is on your lips when
You think of ***? : The man in bed next to you
or the hunk you saw walking down the street yesterday?
It has nothing to do with the hunk on the street
Or the man in bed next to you
It’s the joy of fulfillment,  

Man can never know the loneliness a woman knows
For heaven's sake, it’s more to it than just letting it lay there,
Just for his enjoyment

As most usually calls it quickie, why not take time to
To Sautee the meat, and sipped the wine until the end
Instead to throw one back for a little relaxation session

There he stood on the podium, clutching a Bible. I hope some of us can recall that day—a day of disbelief, a day when we wondered, “What the heck is going on?” A fibber, a husband, a Republican—some might say he was the people’s choice. Now he’s running again, vying to lead his party. For his followers, he represents hope; for others, he’s a curse. The light, the brown, and the black foreigners—the ones who will rewrite history. Will they say this time that we’ve inherited a mess?
When I’m uncertain about my writing, my mind often returns to my childhood focus point: the poem “The Pied Piper of Hamelin.” It holds lessons to be learned. “Rage, rage against the dying of the light”—our fragile nation teeters on the brink of failure. To understand its message is to believe in the legend. Our nation’s wealth grew from the backs of slaves, and we grieve the injustices throughout history. An apple tree without fruit, cows without milk, chickens without eggs—a well without water. These little things we took for granted are like a nation lacking patience, kindness, and loyalty.
Proverbs 28:11 warns that the rich can be blinded by their own perceived wisdom, while the poor, possessing understanding, see through their delusions. It reminds us to seek true discernment beyond our own perspectives.
Crisis upon crisis—our dogmatic nation grapples with challenges.

I am taking notes.
I am adhering to the rules
Yet, I feel numb on the inside, restless,
Corona corvid 19 takes takes
And keep on taking away our family units,
How many more question, can we asked
Why, why, and why God?
Why so many corona corvid deaths

I cannot watch anymore,
I can’t feel anymore am I dreaming?
Am I feuding?  Am I stressing?
Is it my place to asked these questions
Have heaven run out of wings.
Like PPE for our essential workers,

Being silence is not is not relaxing anymore
Silence is a true friend who never betrays
Don’t blame the funeral directors,
Blames the Administrators, the politicians’,
The world leaders, a matter of facts
Don’t blame, set a flame and remove the blame:

Jesulema, Jesulema,: more death than  ww2
Coronavirus death soars, surpass fatalities in Vietnam War
Have been read in the headlines, lessons on waist lines
Don’t blame, set a flame and remove this so called facts or Bats

Oh! 2020 the year of the death,
The blazing death of fire,
A year no one is going to admired:
a year of the blame,
a year of deadly facts or bats

Oh! JerSulema,  

Oh God almighty.
A year of question,
A year of the wings
A year to spend less on the fire arms
And more on the PPE,
Let tackle this enemy:

When everything is said and done
you logged on and went straight to my page of
poems the one, you thought was grammatically incorrect
verses of encouragement, verses of noticeable texts


I am a poetess: I am the daughter of a man who
chopped down mahogany trees just to earn a living
  to feed his big family: a mighty man was he
he was a person not to be reckoned with:
A wired pressure cooker: a ***** with a switch

I tell my story in form of words
I will compose them quite clearly, just follow the lines
Because, the tongue is more to be feared than my words
I am afraid of the ocean, it doesn’t speak my language
  It’s has a long history of chemical: Sea salt

Who’s to blame not the ocean, only me?
I go to visit it; it never comes to visit me:
So when everything is said and done,
Who logged on and came to visit who?

That night before I left for foreign land

the moon seems sadder,

As the night crickets cry louder  

Flyer flies hide among the wet grass

Why hide, why hide,



But like others, before me  

I had a dream, while I was awake

I saw sally, I saw Brad,

I saw a vision, of greatness,



Go quietly; a dream

This time it wasn't a dream

But my king heading to the elevator,

My heart was pounding, or was it unfolding

When would I see him again,

What made us fall in love.



Natural high, natural high was it a safe high?

Love can be addiction, unknown to most,

Should I go and retrieve it or wait

And see if my boomerang heart, can bring him back

I will stand at my front door, and see if my love

Would Land on my door step,  

I always love to tell him, how my day went

When he calls my name, I get hot

Even when it cold, and there he is there being hot,

Is he man enough for me,

Just prays that he always smiles for me.

Because my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
My lips stays Plumper as a ripe cherry on a hot day
Just waiting to be kiss, in the moonlight:

The littlest things we dream about, that is so dear
Can be detrimental, because of modern technology
The lack of touch, the loss of sound, gone forever:

Shall we continued to forget the walks in the park
Making love in the dark, under the starry sky
Just to be trade in by the late nights video chatting?

Being an advocate of love, a unmasked spiritual intruder:
I enter the winging maypole of merry gestor: In my mind

because, my kiss is like frequency and measure as the waves
my opinion on the subject matter, never matters

P.S
**Be who you are and say what you feel because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.” Dr Suess

Dark and lovely as the African night sky
with as many gifts as there are stars on high.
I am the light that shines in darkness

The lion and the king, the ostrich and the
Silkworms to me are the spirit of life,
As mere mortal men make love tonight
I am composing the perfect poem
with one wicked indulgent on my mind
to make memories that will last forever,
Please surround me with a sphere of
powerful, brilliant white light

When winter is over I will
Give praises to jah
Before i forget, the moaning winds,
the naked branches on the trees
Long hours, crazy commutes
I beg you to give praises with a poem
for little favors with poetry
Let us forget the negativity and negative critters

Dark and lovely as the African night sky
With many gifts as there are stars on high

Tonight, I shall shine,
I am the dark temptress,
driven by winter madness
.

As the flimsy branches snaps
The Caribbean babbling brooks echoes
the sound of the steel band rocks the island
Into J’ouvert morning
Up north their bodies shiver up their spines;
But, somehow the wild birds
kept warm during this winter morn

The darker the blue, the heavier the snow
Casting her jeer, with deep cold laughter
The blizzard of 2016, as one lonely cabby
Slowly rolled down the street,
this white winter wonder land

A bird does not sing because it has an answer; it sings because it has a song.


Chinese proverb

Every poet has a beginning
Every river begins somewhere,

Like every story, or poem,

I ever wrote, behind the door of fearfulness

I had to let go the uneasiness of entrapment that

******* my wellbeing.

The world is so crazy right now,

Even with all what mother nature dash out

As humans' beings we, still hang on strong,  

Every poet or poetess has a beginning

Every river begins somewhere,

“ I just love when she belts out

“You know my Name!

That songstress can sing,

She was one of the poets whom  

Was able to get from behind the door of darkness

And sang her heart out to the world.

She has a relationship with her music

I have a feud with my poems,

I see the world in a different light every day

*“I know people can be judgmental and difficult. But if you shut yourself away from the world, you'll never see how beautiful it really is.”
― Imania Margrie, The Pacemaker *

Take some time away from your job

And stay behind close door

Do you notice how you feel?

Away from that environment  

For me its peace, the freedom

And control of oneself

Every poet has a beginning

Every river begins somewhere,

You must never **** the spiders,
While, they are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder?
Kidnapped the poets, instead of the poems
Therefore, I asked of you to stop all useless riots
On poetry, read them, embrace them, and
Learn from them: poetry is disciplined
And disciplined is the most misunderstanding word
In the dictionary: but somehow it is said that

riots is the language of the unheard:
we must never embrace racial riots,
or racial profiling: reach out to racial equity
stop allowing the messages of hate to go viral
plants row of trees, in the name of love,
I recently came across, ants yes, I said ants

When army ants need to cross a large gap, they simply build a bridge - with their own bodies. Linking together, the ants can move their living bridge from its original point, allowing them to cross gaps and create shortcuts across rainforests in Central and South America.

I recently saw human fighting each other, I recently read somewhere
Where children were locked away in cages
,
McALLEN, Texas (AP) — inside an old warehouse in South Texas, hundreds of immigrant children wait in a series of cages created by metal fencing. One cage had 20 children inside. Scattered about are bottles of water, bags of chips and large foil sheets intended to serve as blankets.

We must never **** the spiders,
While, there are woven their poems into the likeness of thunder..

Out of my mind when the WhatsApp tone startle me
Into believing that it was him: who was texting me

When your love has reached it course
A good apology is hard to find: But why say it in a text
Knowingly the other person is going to be vex

Today, I was meditating on three words,
Happiness, empathy and relationships
I will never say this is the end: or will I jump ship
I will always add more to my trouble

Because of whom I am: when I was with them
My past lovers count their trouble,
but they never calculate their happiness:
While they were in my life: they make me
Lost my perspective on the true me

however, do bear in mind
Your true self is never lost

My Alter

You took over from time to time
What I have:  I have accomplished from nothing
I must give praises to you my alter
You terrified me, you strengthen us

You took over without signaling.
we became unique individuals
Sometime we merge and we got to
To the other side:

From beautiful memories to ugly ones
From beautiful quotes to the hideous one.

The most beautiful things are not associated with money
They are memories and moments and if you
Don’t celebrate those they can pass you by Alex Wek
.
I had to swallow my poor pride: an instant jaw clench
This was so not I:  unfolding: heart wrenching:
Nothing I earned didn’t came so easily,
I share a lot but not my inner or outer pain
it was all on us: mostly me

I was loved; I was also being hated
I was that woman that sang the blues into the night
It seems like I had created you for good intentions
Intervention or soul searching:

We are in for the long haul:
Good morning! Good day and good night.

The past is never too far behind:
We can never live it down
According to Doctor B . Ford
It’s unbearable:
It’s haunting, it’s inerasable:
For the victims to relived
those terrible nightmare:
in hopes that it they will go away

Somehow it never does
The worst is to see your attackers
Smiling, and moving on to higher ranks

Youth was wasted on the young,
Privilege children: overindulgence few
Not so wealth, not so wise
Today their party until dawn
In the future they wouldn’t remember
An old folks saying
What sweeten the goat mouth?
Would burn its tail end
The higher the monkey climbs
His tail becomes visible:
As you move up the ladder,
Your party buddies will grudge you
Your past will haunts you
Your hidden secret will be found:
Youth is wasted on the young,