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Sharon Talbot Aug 2018
Waiting in Barbados,
For him to come to his senses.
The heat makes fools of us all,
Save for those used to its
Fiery caress,
Not much cooled
By the lukewarm sea.

Under the palm trees I can wait,
An eternity it seems,
Sipping *** straight from the bottle
Refusing the beads and conch shells
From the beach boys
By the turquoise sea.

Only when the sun sets, quick, surprising,
Its luminous frangipani
Red, thrown down from peach-colored clouds
And night falls soft.
Music from old Bridgetown,
I can go out and forget.

Then I dance to familiar, foreign beats,
Offered to the passing ear,
Pulling me further away from the northern frost
I begin to lose perception,
The moon and stars realign,
Washing away care for possible pasts.

But, waking up on the cooling sand,
Full moon, like an old woman scolding,
Silver-crowned waves roll in,
Irreverent, laughing at me
And I see I am such a stranger
To the land,
To the absence of him.

One last swim in the sand-bottomed pool,
Beneath the cliff, walls sheltering,
Limpid water caressing and
Crystal sun trying to blind me.
I must arise before I forget,
Leave here before it claims me
And rush back home to wait.

September 22, 2002
This is about the very beginnings of a relationship, being drawn to someone, knowing you must have them, but feeling the fear of rejection or failure. It also means that going far away is not enough to escape the pull of that person, of one's desire for them.
Desroy Reece Jun 2018
The sky is falling, the sky is falling
Or maybe, the sea is rising
And we’re all aboard a sinking ship
It’s only a matter of time before this reality hits
Who’s to blame? who’s to blame?
Everyone thinks they know
But what does that matter, as far as the reality goes
Who will save us? Who will save us?
A much more relevant question
Are we really prepared to take this medicine?
The panic is real! The panic is real!
And it’s time to face the facts
The ship got heavier as the old crew got fat
The time has come! The time has come!
To make the decision
Will we make it out alive? Or will we fail this mission...
Time will tell
Dark n Beautiful Apr 2017
The **** poetess
Over the housetops,
Above the dry blades of the sugar cane husks
I have known fear, I have known hunger
I felt the pain of a nail wound deep in my foot
I belted out the blues like Nina Simone
An era of reform: the moments of truth,

On top of the hill, lies a village in Barbados
Acid rain, rooftop leaks on to my bed
It was a rough year:
only food sources were rice and breadfruits
We lived through it all:

It was my destiny:
To love and to hate them:
those old fruit loops

Through the eyes of a uprising poet
The curving of his pen,
Somehow, he made amends, he purge
the smoky air,
the disgusting sight of the pig pens
out of his mind

lack of personal dental hygiene,
the elders lost their teeth
Grinding down on sugarcane, while they
awaits the big meal of the day

With innocent eyes and achy feet
I read so many books for inner peace

My stomach was empty,
but my mind was at ease
To dream big while aiming high

Marlene, Delores, and Linda
Known as the vanishing three
Migrated to North America
Where a Barefooted child
like me wasn’t supposed to be
Eventually, I know I would have followed

I have woven my feathers,
while looking upwards,
In my little corner under the old rusty galvanizes
At the old country shop the vanishing three mothers
told me that I wasn’t pretty enough to leave the island
Words of hatred, mere words of discomfort
I felt my wings tighten against my rib cage,
My tongue, glued against my jaws

From that day forward the poet smile against stupidity
And spitefulness, she too had come to
Eat her words, the old shopkeeper

The poetess enter another line from that era
Uncaring beauty without brains
Where are they now?

I walked with confident down that street
The misty air moist my skin
The poetess return to the Island of Barbados
Without the sugar in her blood..
Elioinai Sep 2016
our minds spin off on their own little threads
run away to make their own sense
since I took this blue
I think my picture must be true
but I'll wait to see if it comes
cause the fake gold is my own and it usually knots
About which we love to dream
constructing our own little covers
Turn laughing to see what the Real has brought us
So different
So similar
So perfect and fine in the loveliest ways
what I wove would never have fit me
But You do
You are a surprise to me, what I pictured but what never imagined as well. You are more than I thought possible, your heart and mind are so much larger. It never entered my mind someone as amazing as you would love me.
jdotingham Aug 2016
Nina moved to Barbados
She found in a ring in a drain cause
When the sun was shining when it wasn’t night
A groom named James had got a fright

A reciprocation to his true intention
Was tainted by a rumour and invitation
Nina stood and she wondered why
The ring mas magnetic to her disguise

She was infamous, for beauty queen of only 18
She wanted to be famous, but the story of the ring

She took shelter in the arms of every man
But she met a man named James with blonde and a tan
They took an apartment next to the beach
What they didn’t realise was there destiny

Upon Nina’s hand was the beautiful ring
One of a kind it had seen lots of sin
The guy named James he noticed it’s sage
A little mark which says where it was made

She was infamous, for beauty queen of only 18
She wanted to be famous, but the story of the ring

What she didn’t know that ring was stolen
And the fright that he witnessed was his mental implosion
On the night it went missing from his hands
Nina found the ring next to the sand

She meant no harm by her intention
To keep the ring as a little recreation
But as she found the attention from the mutual attraction
She took shelter in the arms of every man
But the one who escaped had blonde hair and a tan

*She was infamous, for a beauty queen of only 18
She wanted to be famous, but the story of the ring
Had inspired her to sing
About the man who lost the ring
After my Grandma met Nina Nesbitt in Barbados and introduced her to my writing I received a postcard (in which I treasure) telling me to continue. This was a couple of years ago, so I guess this is overdue.
Disclaimer//It is fictional this poem

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