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"barbados" poems
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0
Dec 21, 2019
Dec 21, 2019 at 11:08 AM UTC
maxneumann
The World NEEDS HelloPoetry (Please Make A Contribution.)
Afghanistan needs hellopoetry Albania needs hellopoetry Algeria needs hellopoetry Andorra needs hellopoetry Angola needs hellopoetry Antigua and Barbuda needs hellopoetry Argentina needs hellopoetry Armenia needs hellopoetry Australia needs hellopoetry Austria needs hellopoetry Azerbaijan needs hellopoetry The Bahamas needs hellopoetry Bahrain needs hellopoetry Bangladesh needs hellopoetry Barbados needs hellopoetry Belarus needs hellopoetry Belgium needs hellopoetry Belize needs hellopoetry Benin needs hellopoetry Bhutan needs hellopoetry Bolivia needs hellopoetry Bosnia and Herzegovina needs hellopoetry Botswana needs hellopoetry Brazil needs hellopoetry Brunei needs hellopoetry Bulgaria needs hellopoetry Burkina Faso needs hellopoetry Burundi needs hellopoetry Cabo Verde needs hellopoetry Cambodia needs hellopoetry Cameroon needs hellopoetry Canada needs hellopoetry Central African Republic needs hellopoetry Chad needs hellopoetry Chile needs hellopoetry China needs hellopoetry Colombia needs hellopoetry Comoros needs hellopoetry Congo, Democratic Republic is in need of hellopoetry Congo, Republic is in need of hellopoetry   Costa Rica needs hellopoetry Côte d’Ivoire needs hellopoetry Croatia needs hellopoetry Cuba needs hellopoetry Cyprus needs hellopoetry Czech Republic needs hellopoetry Denmark needs hellopoetry   Djibouti needs hellopoetry Dominica needs hellopoetry Dominican Republic needs hellopoetry East Timor (Timor-Leste) needs hellopoetry Ecuador needs hellopoetry Egypt needs hellopoetry   El Salvador needs hellopoetry Equatorial Guinea needs hellopoetry Eritrea needs hellopoetry Estonia needs hellopoetry Eswatini needs hellopoetry Ethiopia needs hellopoetry Fiji needs hellopoetry Finland needs hellopoetry France needs hellopoetry Gabon needs hellopoetry The Gambia needs hellopoetry Georgia needs hellopoetry Germany needs hellopoetry Ghana needs hellopoetry Greece needs hellopoetry Grenada needs hellopoetry Guatemala needs hellopoetry Guinea needs 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needs hellopoetry Rwanda needs hellopoetry Saint Kitts and Nevis needs hellopoetry Saint Lucia needs hellopoetry Saint Vincent and the Grenadines needs hellopoetry Samoa needs hellopoetry San Marino needs hellopoetry Sao Tome and Principe needs hellopoetry Saudi Arabia needs hellopoetry Senegal needs hellopoetry Serbia needs hellopoetry Seychelles needs hellopoetry Sierra Leone needs hellopoetry Singapore needs hellopoetry Slovakia needs hellopoetry Slovenia needs hellopoetry Solomon Islands needs hellopoetry Somalia needs hellopoetry South Africa needs hellopoetry Spain needs hellopoetry Sri Lanka needs hellopoetry Sudan needs hellopoetry Sudan, South needs hellopoetry Suriname needs hellopoetry Sweden needs hellopoetry Switzerland needs hellopoetry Syria needs hellopoetry Taiwan needs hellopoetry Tajikistan needs hellopoetry Tanzania needs hellopoetry Thailand needs hellopoetry Togo needs hellopoetry Tonga needs hellopoetry Trinidad and Tobago needs hellopoetry Tunisia needs 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196
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M. Deep in the distance dancing upon the horizon a deeply distinctive voice defies definition bending genres to her will clearly breaking boundaries an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Little Girl Blue lettin' it all out with a wild as the wind Sinner man just tryin' to feel good absolutely refusing to be misunderstood a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes into blazing beautiful harmony putting a revolutionary spell on you belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit Peace of Heart Nectar of Truth just in time to do what you do... an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues. Born to a preacher handyman and housemaid minister a gospel pop fusion diva emerges from the Glory of Love a strange volatile fruit blossoms into young, gifted, and Black spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold from a silky soul that scorches the earth an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Masterfully mesmerizing Black rock Blood and Candlesmoke a fiery flow of tangy, tantalizing and titillating under a fog of duality genius bears two heads vibrant and intricate a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty an empowered diva breaks down and let's it all out just energetic expressive jazz injected with well composed folklore live at Ronnie Scotts an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues From Newport to Baltimore an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit and hypnotizes the masses with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs a powerful Four Women high on Lilac Wine blush from Broadway Blues Ballads in Baltimore See-line woman goes to hell to save Little Liza Jane and shelters in Barbados Cotton-eyed Joe feeds Brown Baby controversy behind Blue Prelude Did it move you? Yeah... Hell yeah.. it moved me too! Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird in chilly winds that don't blow while willows weep something seemingly symbolic of soothing to an African mailman in Central Park and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues The High Priestess of Soul caged but still singing shivering sensations from stubborn sweetness under sweet strings that sharply spill and scatter strength to the sorrowful that daily dine and devour silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
0
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 11:51 AM UTC
bronx-peach
The High Priestess of Soul
365Nectar #46 The High Priestess of Soul Fri. November 8, 2013 10:38 P.M. Deep in the distance dancing upon the horizon a deeply distinctive voice defies definition bending genres to her will clearly breaking boundaries an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Little Girl Blue lettin' it all out with a wild as the wind Sinner man just tryin' to feel good absolutely refusing to be misunderstood a strong-willed priestess turns tempermental tunes into blazing beautiful harmony putting a revolutionary spell on you belting emotional songs of freedom and spirit Peace of Heart Nectar of Truth just in time to do what you do... an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues. Born to a preacher handyman and housemaid minister a gospel pop fusion diva emerges from the Glory of Love a strange volatile fruit blossoms into young, gifted, and Black spitting storms of spiritually smoldering Black Gold from a silky soul that scorches the earth an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues Masterfully mesmerizing Black rock Blood and Candlesmoke a fiery flow of tangy, tantalizing and titillating under a fog of duality genius bears two heads vibrant and intricate a saucy songstress swings with passion and honesty an empowered diva breaks down and let's it all out just energetic expressive jazz injected with well composed folklore live at Ronnie Scotts an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues From Newport to Baltimore an exiled priestess feeds forbidden fruit and hypnotizes the masses with tantalizing love me or leave me alone torch songs a powerful Four Women high on Lilac Wine blush from Broadway Blues Ballads in Baltimore See-line woman goes to hell to save Little Liza Jane and shelters in Barbados Cotton-eyed Joe feeds Brown Baby controversy behind Blue Prelude Did it move you? Yeah... Hell yeah.. it moved me too! Mr. Bojangles wave bye bye to a Blackbird in chilly winds that don't blow while willows weep something seemingly symbolic of soothing to an African mailman in Central Park and an exiled priestess wails louder than ever silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues The High Priestess of Soul caged but still singing shivering sensations from stubborn sweetness under sweet strings that sharply spill and scatter strength to the sorrowful that daily dine and devour silky, soulful, and spicy Pastel Blues.
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90
To : Derek Walcott La mujer , el amor , la revolucion . El Tridente , Poseidon , el mar . Esto ve el poeta dentro de las estrellas conchas asirenadas y la matriz de los versos : soles femeninos y lunas masculinas dioses blancos y negros y a la bandera de Barbados con el Tridente de sus ojos sobre la brisa marina y dentro de la profundidad de la historia saludar Caribbe Estoy Aqui 19 . 10 . 2000
0
Sep 27, 2011
Sep 27, 2011 at 6:30 AM UTC
giorgos-vlachos
Caribbe Estoy Aqui
To : Derek Walcott La mujer , el amor , la revolucion . El Tridente , Poseidon , el mar . Esto ve el poeta dentro de las estrellas conchas asirenadas y la matriz de los versos : soles femeninos y lunas masculinas dioses blancos y negros y a la bandera de Barbados con el Tridente de sus ojos sobre la brisa marina y dentro de la profundidad de la historia saludar Caribbe Estoy Aqui 19 . 10 . 2000
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15
I wish there was a better way to say I just cut myself again a tidier way, something that makes it sound less morbid and a bit more romantic like barbados like *** on the beach for the irony of sabotaging a fling of intimacy for myself sabotaging swimsuit and short-shorts season I don’t want anyone to touch me or even look at me anyway so it’s all in my favour with nails that are painted colourful like clowns and there’s a red and white polkadot bow in my hair personally, I think it’s kind of funny that when people look through a kaleidoscope, all they see is pretty colours instead of shards of broken glass
0
May 19, 2013
May 19, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
samasati
kaleidoscope
I wish there was a better way to say I just cut myself again a tidier way, something that makes it sound less morbid and a bit more romantic like barbados like *** on the beach for the irony of sabotaging a fling of intimacy for myself sabotaging swimsuit and short-shorts season I don’t want anyone to touch me or even look at me anyway so it’s all in my favour with nails that are painted colourful like clowns and there’s a red and white polkadot bow in my hair personally, I think it’s kind of funny that when people look through a kaleidoscope, all they see is pretty colours instead of shards of broken glass
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17
Forbidden fruit of Barbados Oh how she glows. Sectional sweetness Bitter in aftertaste My favorite things in life Always seem to be similar Maybe because I prefer the familiar The curve and the shape Contour and ripe As I slice thee in half I notice your walls Serrated spoon in hand Showing gratitude toward the land For it bears blessed fruits The fruit blesses me Upon receiving sour Bite after bite The bitterness sets in Night after night Grapefruit makes me happy Grapefruit makes me smile I hope that I don’t get sick At least not for a while
0
Oct 18, 2011
Oct 18, 2011 at 2:28 PM UTC
eric-scott-melton
Forbidden Fruit of Barbados
Forbidden fruit of Barbados Oh how she glows. Sectional sweetness Bitter in aftertaste My favorite things in life Always seem to be similar Maybe because I prefer the familiar The curve and the shape Contour and ripe As I slice thee in half I notice your walls Serrated spoon in hand Showing gratitude toward the land For it bears blessed fruits The fruit blesses me Upon receiving sour Bite after bite The bitterness sets in Night after night Grapefruit makes me happy Grapefruit makes me smile I hope that I don’t get sick At least not for a while
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24
In my mind, as infinite as the heavens, I am but a starry eyed stranger Wandering through her shimmering realms Beneath an ebony sky, laced with crimson, Beclouded with spiraling sprays of stardust A child, a warrior, a saint full of sin, I pass through the vapour of my shadowselves Layers falling away like rotten tree bark Exposing the rings within, like fingerprints, Looping coils of time, bending but unbroken Somewhere in the distance a dragonfly dances on the surface of the water, Unknowingly admired by a sharp toothed Chinook As another lost soul pulls back on a well worn syringe, Seated on a broken toilet, slowly leaking across the scarred, yellow linoleum. While a mother in Africa nurses a starving baby from her malnourished breast, A stomach ravaged by dysentery, Lips cracked and bleeding beneath the relentless heat of the sun, And a pimple faced pop star sips champagne from a crystal goblet, Wearing eight hundred dollar sunglasses and basking on a beach in Barbados, Where they will spend more on hotels and liquor for a week than most families will earn in wages all year. I close my eyes to imagine a world where only dragonflies sip champagne, and people ACTUALLY care about one another. But the former seems more likely than the latter... So I return to my inner sanctuary of dreams... And once again, I am infinite.
0
May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
hrtsonfyr
infinite*
In my mind, as infinite as the heavens, I am but a starry eyed stranger Wandering through her shimmering realms Beneath an ebony sky, laced with crimson, Beclouded with spiraling sprays of stardust A child, a warrior, a saint full of sin, I pass through the vapour of my shadowselves Layers falling away like rotten tree bark Exposing the rings within, like fingerprints, Looping coils of time, bending but unbroken Somewhere in the distance a dragonfly dances on the surface of the water, Unknowingly admired by a sharp toothed Chinook As another lost soul pulls back on a well worn syringe, Seated on a broken toilet, slowly leaking across the scarred, yellow linoleum. While a mother in Africa nurses a starving baby from her malnourished breast, A stomach ravaged by dysentery, Lips cracked and bleeding beneath the relentless heat of the sun, And a pimple faced pop star sips champagne from a crystal goblet, Wearing eight hundred dollar sunglasses and basking on a beach in Barbados, Where they will spend more on hotels and liquor for a week than most families will earn in wages all year. I close my eyes to imagine a world where only dragonflies sip champagne, and people ACTUALLY care about one another. But the former seems more likely than the latter... So I return to my inner sanctuary of dreams... And once again, I am infinite.
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25
I did not know her then nor do I now but in between, I did She swam for Barbados fluid young islander of affluent Germanic descent Adrift, cultures island sought she surfaces, bobbing in the Red Dragon’s wake House on the Bay, overflowing camper van, brim full of friends and fun Over the Bridge splashing loneliness, diving into my bath and bed Floating alone undercurrents scratch, tides sandy icing of memories Locked lapping Bay days drag piloting others fun sea blue horizons debentures sold, goodbyes told surf Ahoy She jumps far flung fun soaked, to sail the Bay of Islands .
0
Apr 23, 2010
Apr 23, 2010 at 9:09 AM UTC
dj-thomas
Far Flung Fun #
I did not know her then nor do I now but in between, I did She swam for Barbados fluid young islander of affluent Germanic descent Adrift, cultures island sought she surfaces, bobbing in the Red Dragon’s wake House on the Bay, overflowing camper van, brim full of friends and fun Over the Bridge splashing loneliness, diving into my bath and bed Floating alone undercurrents scratch, tides sandy icing of memories Locked lapping Bay days drag piloting others fun sea blue horizons debentures sold, goodbyes told surf Ahoy She jumps far flung fun soaked, to sail the Bay of Islands .
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28
The ugly 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 Supper! 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.. .
0
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
darknbeautiful-1
An Era of Reform: The Moment of Truth
The ugly 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 Supper! 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.. .
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57
Melodramatic Aryan the waspy waspy for Tori Amos Go, go, go, go now The car is here But I forgot to leave the light on But I too have never seen Barbados I only want to keep your red head dancing as you've kept my blonde head dancing a happy phantom from China to New York City a dancing girl for so many years
0
Dec 13, 2011
Dec 13, 2011 at 12:52 AM UTC
carrie-ross
Tragic
Melodramatic Aryan the waspy waspy for Tori Amos Go, go, go, go now The car is here But I forgot to leave the light on But I too have never seen Barbados I only want to keep your red head dancing as you've kept my blonde head dancing a happy phantom from China to New York City a dancing girl for so many years
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15
I've always wondered what was Life's purpose Certainly it should mean more than to be born, die and decompose Is it left to me to determine how my life goes? Set up daily, weekly, monthly, yearly objectives and goals? To navigate expertly the course of life to avoid the lows and the foes? Should I subscribe to the idea of faith/fate like most? Or is it more a case of 'you reaping what you sow?' Everyone is unique so each path must be different I suppose But is it fair for one person to have enough to brag and boast? While someone else toils hard and can't even afford bread toast? What if I had been born in Barbados? Would I be surfing everyday enough to be a pro? Allhamdulillah instead of Hallelujah, if I were born in Pakistan I suppose What is Life's Purpose? I can speculate, but truly only God knows.
0
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:54 AM UTC
oladapo-olaitan
Life's Purpose
I've always wondered what was Life's purpose Certainly it should mean more than to be born, die and decompose Is it left to me to determine how my life goes? Set up daily, weekly, monthly, yearly objectives and goals? To navigate expertly the course of life to avoid the lows and the foes? Should I subscribe to the idea of faith/fate like most? Or is it more a case of 'you reaping what you sow?' Everyone is unique so each path must be different I suppose But is it fair for one person to have enough to brag and boast? While someone else toils hard and can't even afford bread toast? What if I had been born in Barbados? Would I be surfing everyday enough to be a pro? Allhamdulillah instead of Hallelujah, if I were born in Pakistan I suppose What is Life's Purpose? I can speculate, but truly only God knows.
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15
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly I am a bus rider That makes me unusual For a white male From an upper middle-class family Our people are not bus riders Though some are subway riders Bus riders are other people The poor, minorities, immigrants People who don’t drive Because they are blind Or have a DUI And in my case I don’t drive Because I have bad vision And bad coordination Just never got the hang Of the whole driving thing Fortunately for me My wife does the driving But I still take the bus From time to time I rode the AC buses in Berkeley As a child Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus Rode them long before BART came along And afterwards as well As an adult seldom rode the bus But when I did so I was always impressed By the sheer diversity Of the bus riding population Hundreds of languages All sorts of ****** orientation Some were white Most were not Most of my fellow passengers Were nice enough Some were friendly And some were lost In their own thoughts And a few Were scary looking dudes With the look Of someone who had done time And were capable of more violence I also rode the bus In Seattle as a graduate student A lot of fellow UW students And the usual immigrants Minorities etc And some white people Commuting And in DC Over the years I rode a lot of buses Mostly to and from the metro But I got to know And love the DC buses as well I also took the greyhound bus Across the country Several times over the years All over the U.S. From Bay Area to Stockton From Bay Area to Clear Lake From Bay area to NYC NYC to DC All over the USA Taking the Greyhound Was always an adventure Met a lot of interesting people As people on long distant bus rides Tend to open up and talk To pass the time away Overseas I took the bus All over In India, in Barbados In Spain and in Korea The Korean buses For many years Were difficult for foreign visitors As the signs were all in Korean Most have signs Now in English, Chinese and Korean And are much more foreigner friendly Riding the bus In America Allows one access To the underbelly of American society The poor, the marginalized The immigrant communities That many middle class white people Just never see And for that reason I am glad That I am a bus rider
0
Nov 25, 2018
Nov 25, 2018 at 1:37 AM UTC
jakecaller
bus riding in AMerica's underbelly
the Bus – Travels Through America’s Underbelly I am a bus rider That makes me unusual For a white male From an upper middle-class family Our people are not bus riders Though some are subway riders Bus riders are other people The poor, minorities, immigrants People who don’t drive Because they are blind Or have a DUI And in my case I don’t drive Because I have bad vision And bad coordination Just never got the hang Of the whole driving thing Fortunately for me My wife does the driving But I still take the bus From time to time I rode the AC buses in Berkeley As a child Line 67, line 51, line 43 F bus Rode them long before BART came along And afterwards as well As an adult seldom rode the bus But when I did so I was always impressed By the sheer diversity Of the bus riding population Hundreds of languages All sorts of ****** orientation Some were white Most were not Most of my fellow passengers Were nice enough Some were friendly And some were lost In their own thoughts And a few Were scary looking dudes With the look Of someone who had done time And were capable of more violence I also rode the bus In Seattle as a graduate student A lot of fellow UW students And the usual immigrants Minorities etc And some white people Commuting And in DC Over the years I rode a lot of buses Mostly to and from the metro But I got to know And love the DC buses as well I also took the greyhound bus Across the country Several times over the years All over the U.S. From Bay Area to Stockton From Bay Area to Clear Lake From Bay area to NYC NYC to DC All over the USA Taking the Greyhound Was always an adventure Met a lot of interesting people As people on long distant bus rides Tend to open up and talk To pass the time away Overseas I took the bus All over In India, in Barbados In Spain and in Korea The Korean buses For many years Were difficult for foreign visitors As the signs were all in Korean Most have signs Now in English, Chinese and Korean And are much more foreigner friendly Riding the bus In America Allows one access To the underbelly of American society The poor, the marginalized The immigrant communities That many middle class white people Just never see And for that reason I am glad That I am a bus rider
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96
only the lonliest princess lived in the castle. wandering, from room to room.... but alas, no one else lived there. sometimes, she thought she saw someone in the garden ...but convinced herself it was the wind...             and stayed indoors. only the the lonliesst gardener boy was left, to tend the gardens, overgrown, as they were. sometimes, he thought he saw some one in the windows of the castle ...but he could never be sure... so he stayed outdoors so the days passed.... and the lonliest people in the world lived, unknowingly, within reach of each other. and where was the fairy-godmother... ...the one, who was meant to put these lonely souls together.... she had gone to barbados on holiday.... been hit by a falling coconut... gotten amnesia and was now making a living as waitress ...and wondering why her back was itchy all the. time... from where her wings had retracted....
0
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 8:14 PM UTC
betterdays
fracture...
only the lonliest princess lived in the castle. wandering, from room to room.... but alas, no one else lived there. sometimes, she thought she saw someone in the garden ...but convinced herself it was the wind...             and stayed indoors. only the the lonliesst gardener boy was left, to tend the gardens, overgrown, as they were. sometimes, he thought he saw some one in the windows of the castle ...but he could never be sure... so he stayed outdoors so the days passed.... and the lonliest people in the world lived, unknowingly, within reach of each other. and where was the fairy-godmother... ...the one, who was meant to put these lonely souls together.... she had gone to barbados on holiday.... been hit by a falling coconut... gotten amnesia and was now making a living as waitress ...and wondering why her back was itchy all the. time... from where her wings had retracted....
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36
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
0
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
sharon-talbot
Waiting in Barbados
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
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40
The sky is a generous grey, beneath whose pending charity, sentinel palm trees stray. Whilst impetuous Atlantic gusts, act as a guide to the tourist of Saharan dust, from our heritage far away... yet unclaimed. And so it shall remain, for domiciled within Barbados' Summer paradise; I would ask only for the rain; that it might wash these seared whip wounds of Sun's splendour... away. The fruit trees are as my family's; their abundant branches intertwine and then once more, rewind to form a clan. Yet, their want of leaves says to all, of the prospect of Summer's well-fed famine... they had made no plans. So, we would ask only for the rain; that it might wash away the browned chlorophyll of a cruel Summer's plague. Much like nightmares... to be preserved only within the introspective and reflective archives of Yesterday. Upon bent knees, I humbly appeal to the Holder of Divinity - Nay! I pray, for but a half empty, half full cup of rain.
0
Mar 6, 2021
Mar 6, 2021 at 11:29 AM UTC
Him
Rain.
The sky is a generous grey, beneath whose pending charity, sentinel palm trees stray. Whilst impetuous Atlantic gusts, act as a guide to the tourist of Saharan dust, from our heritage far away... yet unclaimed. And so it shall remain, for domiciled within Barbados' Summer paradise; I would ask only for the rain; that it might wash these seared whip wounds of Sun's splendour... away. The fruit trees are as my family's; their abundant branches intertwine and then once more, rewind to form a clan. Yet, their want of leaves says to all, of the prospect of Summer's well-fed famine... they had made no plans. So, we would ask only for the rain; that it might wash away the browned chlorophyll of a cruel Summer's plague. Much like nightmares... to be preserved only within the introspective and reflective archives of Yesterday. Upon bent knees, I humbly appeal to the Holder of Divinity - Nay! I pray, for but a half empty, half full cup of rain.
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5
We seek wakefulness, What is Barbados to me? Hot sun, and Broad Rim hats and old khaki pants? Robust men with warm undertone skin, That blends with the cultivated land. We seek constant reassurance from the one we love That they will be there for us in good times Or bad times, just to feel good about ourselves. What is America to me, I mean so much to me, A place where I was able to educated my offspring, While I work from sunrise, to sundown Under pressure, under humiliation however, Every sunrise holds more promise, and every sunset hold more peace. – Anonymous. We seek solutions for all the hateful people, We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that created them. ” We can’t sit back and do nothing Or wonder when the race hate will be over, I think the Putin's war in Ukraine going after the wrong people: We seek justice, for hate crimes What Jamaica to me? The place of rhythm of swing and slay Where someone can fall in love today And deceive you the next day: We seek answers, but only God know That his creation is out of control: We seek peace and peace comes with love Where there is no love, in one's heart There will be no peace. We all know about a little wisdom But did we put it to the test God opens millions of flowers every day without forcing their buds Food for thoughts my poetic friend. Be vigilant, be wise, never trust anyone.
0
May 16, 2022
May 16, 2022 at 3:18 PM UTC
darknbeautiful-1
wakefulness
We seek wakefulness, What is Barbados to me? Hot sun, and Broad Rim hats and old khaki pants? Robust men with warm undertone skin, That blends with the cultivated land. We seek constant reassurance from the one we love That they will be there for us in good times Or bad times, just to feel good about ourselves. What is America to me, I mean so much to me, A place where I was able to educated my offspring, While I work from sunrise, to sundown Under pressure, under humiliation however, Every sunrise holds more promise, and every sunset hold more peace. – Anonymous. We seek solutions for all the hateful people, We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking that created them. ” We can’t sit back and do nothing Or wonder when the race hate will be over, I think the Putin's war in Ukraine going after the wrong people: We seek justice, for hate crimes What Jamaica to me? The place of rhythm of swing and slay Where someone can fall in love today And deceive you the next day: We seek answers, but only God know That his creation is out of control: We seek peace and peace comes with love Where there is no love, in one's heart There will be no peace. We all know about a little wisdom But did we put it to the test God opens millions of flowers every day without forcing their buds Food for thoughts my poetic friend. Be vigilant, be wise, never trust anyone.
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35
Romance in France, Ontario Canada, Michigan, Antigua & Barbados New Mexico, Cairo, Spain, Greece, Everywhere is nice
0
Jul 25, 2017
Jul 25, 2017 at 7:26 PM UTC
moonlightz4
Romance
Romance in France, Ontario Canada, Michigan, Antigua & Barbados New Mexico, Cairo, Spain, Greece, Everywhere is nice
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7
i think i left barbados when you said a - in addition to a queue, in addition to cumin and cinnamon, and on the trot of the imperial march i gagged a cough... ha ha.
0
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:37 AM UTC
removed.polaroid-scrabble
imperial march impromptu
i think i left barbados when you said a - in addition to a queue, in addition to cumin and cinnamon, and on the trot of the imperial march i gagged a cough... ha ha.
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6
It’s A Really Cool Vibe... To Still Want To Write Rhymes... With No Power Or Light... In The Day Or The Night... Cos’ It’s Now Been A While... But My Creative Files... Are Constantly Growing... As I Write This Poem... To Sounds of The Ocean... Barbados Has Left... People In St. John... To A LONG Power Loss... So Those In Government... Are Clearly Not As Strong... As They’d Like Us To Think... When Problems Come Along... I Now Can’t Hear A Thing... Coming From Their Fast Lips... About A QUICK Fix... To Resolve All of This... ?!? But Even At Times... When There Is NO Light... My Mind Still Shines BRIGHT... !!! And Gives Me Fresh Rhymes... To Write About Life... In Times Such As These... You Need Humility... To Stay On Your Feet... And Not Fall To Your Knees... Because You Can’t Eat... Cos’ Your Freezer Won’t Freeze... Your Chicken And Meat... You Have To Think FAST... !!! And Keep Things That LAST... !!! And Keep Yourself Cool... When You Are Losing Food... Due To Governments Who... Could Care Less About You... !!! Just Like Those Whose Quotes... Suddenly Become Jokes... When You See How They Roll... In The Midst of Black Holes... !!! But In Times Such As These... It’s Good To Use Peace And Creativity... As A Form of Release... To Help You To Breathe... And To Just Let Things Be... !!! From Ignorance Shown... To A Lack of Good Deeds... From Those In Your Home... Yes Of Course Your Family... Are The Ones Who You Should Feed... In Times Such As These... !!!!! But Does This Really Mean... That You Start To Deceive... And Act Like A Sneak... When It Comes To The Needs... of Those Who You Claimed... You Would Never Forsake... ?!? Especially When... They’ve ALWAYS Paid Their Way... !!! Does That Seem Correct... ? Or Should You Be Ashamed... ? of How You Behave... When Light’s Taken Away... ?!? Well I Don’t Know But Hey... Even In Times Like These... I’m Still Using My Brain... !!! And My Words To Create... ..... REALITY Strains..... That Do Not See Defeat... But They See What Is REAL... !!! So Don’t Lie Or Conceal... Just To Make People Feel... As If Everything’s SWEET... In Times Such As THESE... Are You Folks KIDDING ME... ?!? When Phone Vids of Police... Killing Men With Their KNEES... Have Brought Protests To Streets... And A Global Disease... Has Enforced Policies... That May Well Make Vaccines... Become... MANDATORY... !?! These Are Hard Times To Be... Writing... “ Nice Poetry “... So I’ll Stick To The TRUTH... And Writings That Prove... That My Creative Themes... Deal In Straightforward Speech... That Embrace Honesty... “ Even In Times Like These “.......
0
Sep 30, 2021
Sep 30, 2021 at 6:36 PM UTC
big-virge
“Even In Times Like These” ... A Poem written by Big Virge 8/7/2021
It’s A Really Cool Vibe... To Still Want To Write Rhymes... With No Power Or Light... In The Day Or The Night... Cos’ It’s Now Been A While... But My Creative Files... Are Constantly Growing... As I Write This Poem... To Sounds of The Ocean... Barbados Has Left... People In St. John... To A LONG Power Loss... So Those In Government... Are Clearly Not As Strong... As They’d Like Us To Think... When Problems Come Along... I Now Can’t Hear A Thing... Coming From Their Fast Lips... About A QUICK Fix... To Resolve All of This... ?!? But Even At Times... When There Is NO Light... My Mind Still Shines BRIGHT... !!! And Gives Me Fresh Rhymes... To Write About Life... In Times Such As These... You Need Humility... To Stay On Your Feet... And Not Fall To Your Knees... Because You Can’t Eat... Cos’ Your Freezer Won’t Freeze... Your Chicken And Meat... You Have To Think FAST... !!! And Keep Things That LAST... !!! And Keep Yourself Cool... When You Are Losing Food... Due To Governments Who... Could Care Less About You... !!! Just Like Those Whose Quotes... Suddenly Become Jokes... When You See How They Roll... In The Midst of Black Holes... !!! But In Times Such As These... It’s Good To Use Peace And Creativity... As A Form of Release... To Help You To Breathe... And To Just Let Things Be... !!! From Ignorance Shown... To A Lack of Good Deeds... From Those In Your Home... Yes Of Course Your Family... Are The Ones Who You Should Feed... In Times Such As These... !!!!! But Does This Really Mean... That You Start To Deceive... And Act Like A Sneak... When It Comes To The Needs... of Those Who You Claimed... You Would Never Forsake... ?!? Especially When... They’ve ALWAYS Paid Their Way... !!! Does That Seem Correct... ? Or Should You Be Ashamed... ? of How You Behave... When Light’s Taken Away... ?!? Well I Don’t Know But Hey... Even In Times Like These... I’m Still Using My Brain... !!! And My Words To Create... ..... REALITY Strains..... That Do Not See Defeat... But They See What Is REAL... !!! So Don’t Lie Or Conceal... Just To Make People Feel... As If Everything’s SWEET... In Times Such As THESE... Are You Folks KIDDING ME... ?!? When Phone Vids of Police... Killing Men With Their KNEES... Have Brought Protests To Streets... And A Global Disease... Has Enforced Policies... That May Well Make Vaccines... Become... MANDATORY... !?! These Are Hard Times To Be... Writing... “ Nice Poetry “... So I’ll Stick To The TRUTH... And Writings That Prove... That My Creative Themes... Deal In Straightforward Speech... That Embrace Honesty... “ Even In Times Like These “.......
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92
Un guijarro, uno solo, el más bajo de todos, controla a todo el médano aciago y faraónico. El aire adquiere tensión de recuerdo y de anhelo, y bajo el sol se calla hasta exigir el cuello a las pirámides. Sed. Hidratada melancolía de la tribu errabunda, gota a gota, del siglo al minuto. Son tres Treses paralelos, barbados de barba inmemorial, en marcha    3    3    3 Es el tiempo este anuncio de gran zapatería, es el tiempo, que marcha descalzo de la muerte             hacia           la muerte.
0
495
César Vallejo
Me estoy riendo
Un guijarro, uno solo, el más bajo de todos, controla a todo el médano aciago y faraónico. El aire adquiere tensión de recuerdo y de anhelo, y bajo el sol se calla hasta exigir el cuello a las pirámides. Sed. Hidratada melancolía de la tribu errabunda, gota a gota, del siglo al minuto. Son tres Treses paralelos, barbados de barba inmemorial, en marcha    3    3    3 Es el tiempo este anuncio de gran zapatería, es el tiempo, que marcha descalzo de la muerte             hacia           la muerte.
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17
Passion had finally erased my calm, (quote) I look toward the long stretch of beach in coney Island The couple walking the boardwalk, I visualize that it was us on the island of Barbados, walking, bare feet on the sand And only space between us, was a little cool breeze. You can bring the vitality back at any age, I wonder if you would kiss me on my forehead Before reaching for my pouty lips, I wonder if you would whisper my name before you Reach for my breast, these things might mean nothing To you, but to me, it said, we are ready, I wonder if you find a seashell, and Place it next to my face, and jokingly Say to me. She sells seashells at the seashore In response I would jokingly say “To avoid having *** with her Johns! I am sure, I am sure! I am Sure! Passion had finally erased my calm But being there with you, it would be my lucky charm.
0
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 5:21 PM UTC
darknbeautiful-1
Seashells
Passion had finally erased my calm, (quote) I look toward the long stretch of beach in coney Island The couple walking the boardwalk, I visualize that it was us on the island of Barbados, walking, bare feet on the sand And only space between us, was a little cool breeze. You can bring the vitality back at any age, I wonder if you would kiss me on my forehead Before reaching for my pouty lips, I wonder if you would whisper my name before you Reach for my breast, these things might mean nothing To you, but to me, it said, we are ready, I wonder if you find a seashell, and Place it next to my face, and jokingly Say to me. She sells seashells at the seashore In response I would jokingly say “To avoid having *** with her Johns! I am sure, I am sure! I am Sure! Passion had finally erased my calm But being there with you, it would be my lucky charm.
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18
Uncover the mysterious spell in reading Once you've truly fallen in love For such a hobby I've been to Paris, Barbados, Australia Who knew getting lost in the Sahara desert can be quite sizzling sparks of romance I've travelled through time From the modern to the ancient I've fallen in love Dragged from one relationship to another Some with happy endings And some without any I've lived so many lives Sitting on my bed With a barricade of my new purchases Reality fades in the background As I let myself be taken again By a new chapter And more pages to come
0
Dec 13, 2018
Dec 13, 2018 at 7:47 PM UTC
TheStartOfMyEnds
Door to another world
Uncover the mysterious spell in reading Once you've truly fallen in love For such a hobby I've been to Paris, Barbados, Australia Who knew getting lost in the Sahara desert can be quite sizzling sparks of romance I've travelled through time From the modern to the ancient I've fallen in love Dragged from one relationship to another Some with happy endings And some without any I've lived so many lives Sitting on my bed With a barricade of my new purchases Reality fades in the background As I let myself be taken again By a new chapter And more pages to come
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19
I followed you to lay on Bajan sand. To kiss again and again under a dying sun. Our seeds of passion were soaked in *** So hastily devoured over our Boardwalk Dim Sum
0
Mar 30, 2021
Mar 30, 2021 at 8:56 PM UTC
anecandu
Barbados II
I followed you to lay on Bajan sand. To kiss again and again under a dying sun. Our seeds of passion were soaked in *** So hastily devoured over our Boardwalk Dim Sum
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4
Our river runs low, unlike in Barbados, where rain graces the small island, turning it into a tropical paradise. Green pastures thrive, a breadfruit can sustain a poor man throughout the year, while others feast lavishly. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in America, and perhaps in other parts of the world too. What are we thankful for this year? Reflecting on 2024, what stands out as your most memorable moment? What brought tears to your eyes, and how many times did you cry out for help? This year has been tough for me, filled with force and emotional baggage, accompanied by piles of bills. I held on, knowing that temporary meant limited, not permanent. It's easy to be thankful for the good things. Those who are also thankful for the setbacks experience a life of rich fulfillment. Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive. Find a way to be thankful for your troubles, and they can become your blessings. Today is Black Friday, and it feels black, an adjective that brings emotional instability. Will I be able to catch a good deal on this day?
0
Nov 29, 2024
Nov 29, 2024 at 9:26 AM UTC
darknbeautiful-1
Force emotional Baggage
Our river runs low, unlike in Barbados, where rain graces the small island, turning it into a tropical paradise. Green pastures thrive, a breadfruit can sustain a poor man throughout the year, while others feast lavishly. Tomorrow is Thanksgiving in America, and perhaps in other parts of the world too. What are we thankful for this year? Reflecting on 2024, what stands out as your most memorable moment? What brought tears to your eyes, and how many times did you cry out for help? This year has been tough for me, filled with force and emotional baggage, accompanied by piles of bills. I held on, knowing that temporary meant limited, not permanent. It's easy to be thankful for the good things. Those who are also thankful for the setbacks experience a life of rich fulfillment. Gratitude can turn a negative into a positive. Find a way to be thankful for your troubles, and they can become your blessings. Today is Black Friday, and it feels black, an adjective that brings emotional instability. Will I be able to catch a good deal on this day?
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10