Sweet gentle daughter of dreaming blue eyes
Reflecting visions from some distant sphere;
Untainted by nightmares of icy fear,
Nor saddened yet by fate's mocking disguise.
Unopened book of fickle tomorrow,
Not certain of how future may unfold,
With hours of lead or hours of molten gold;
Unenlightened yet by unknown sorrow.
Sands rush through the hourglass of wasted years,
While breaking our young hearts with shattered dreams.
The clock of life wrings disappointed tears,
Unhampered by our plans and clever schemes.
Beware grim reaper swinging ***** blade
Who mocks thee as childhood days slowly fade.

**~Hilda~

I look for words in the dark,
My thoughts were trigger by you
My Island soul knows no malice, until
negative thinking roams around in my head
It defines who I am, so I became the poem
And the poem became my affinity
to the nature of poetry
Fire bun, fire bun
Blaze dem Jah, purge dem ya hayed!

They came to my Island to feel
the warmth of the sunshine
as for me I visited a very difficult country
to become its shadow
I look for words in the dark:
My Island soul knows no malice
Only kinship with all life