"saltfish" poems - Hello Poetry

You're the ackee in my saltfish Condensed milk in my tea The patty in my coco bread Without you there is no me. Just like coconut water You're good for my heart And Mr.Wray without his nephew Is like when we are apart. When you wrap your arms around me Like banana leaf on blue draaws There is nothing I wouldnt do for you You know that im all yours. I want to be with you always Like when tin milk get short An dem marry it with it to de mackerel to make sure de mackerel get bought. Like carrot juice on Sunday Mango in the summertime I cant get enough of you Please tell me you will be mine.

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Jul 18, 2014

Jul 18, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC

gathron

Jamaican Love Poem

You're the ackee in my saltfish Condensed milk in my tea The patty in my coco bread Without you there is no me. Just like coconut water You're good for my heart And Mr.Wray without his nephew Is like when we are apart. When you wrap your arms around me Like banana leaf on blue draaws There is nothing I wouldnt do for you You know that im all yours. I want to be with you always Like when tin milk get short An dem marry it with it to de mackerel to make sure de mackerel get bought. Like carrot juice on Sunday Mango in the summertime I cant get enough of you Please tell me you will be mine.

20

I expected this but not so soon I was just finally enjoying being me Leaving here is going to be like leaving behind a huge part of me This is where I was born Where I grew up , where I first experienced true love Where I first experienced heartbreak This is where I became Kay-Ann But part of me is happy I'm going to begin a new life A new life full of possibilities Surely I'll miss my homeland I'll miss the food My dear ackee and saltfish I'll miss the sights Devon House and Emancipation Park I'll miss the people My friends from school and past loves But migrating is all about starting anew Starting that new chapter in the book of me.

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Jan 9, 2014

Jan 9, 2014 at 4:12 PM UTC

kay-ann-1

Leaving Jamaica

I expected this but not so soon I was just finally enjoying being me Leaving here is going to be like leaving behind a huge part of me This is where I was born Where I grew up , where I first experienced true love Where I first experienced heartbreak This is where I became Kay-Ann But part of me is happy I'm going to begin a new life A new life full of possibilities Surely I'll miss my homeland I'll miss the food My dear ackee and saltfish I'll miss the sights Devon House and Emancipation Park I'll miss the people My friends from school and past loves But migrating is all about starting anew Starting that new chapter in the book of me.

19

Dribbling drops from above, sunken in cieling seal skin smooth saltfish nicely butchered bubbling Floats and sinks for ocean floor kisses -coquetishly- Can't stay too long, Hey, I'm Mister Meeseeks, look at me! Can you finish cooking? Can't exist too long Simple tasks in order to give them a quick and proper inevitable heat death

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Jan 4, 2015

Jan 4, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC

cecelia-francis

The ballade of boiling pots

Dribbling drops from above, sunken in cieling seal skin smooth saltfish nicely butchered bubbling Floats and sinks for ocean floor kisses -coquetishly- Can't stay too long, Hey, I'm Mister Meeseeks, look at me! Can you finish cooking? Can't exist too long Simple tasks in order to give them a quick and proper inevitable heat death

25

The workman told you to bury a curled dark lock Of your dead baby’s hair in the earth, A quiet offering to a quieter god You spent several months weeping to the sky Your small hands curled into your white frock Work was left unattended in your colorful house No food on the stove, No boiling salt fish, or softened dumplings in murky white water The pungent smell of cured fish filling the quieter home The home, austere and shrinking into the long street Your helper comes to do all this Your children understand in their small ways You covered the lock of dark hair with fresh dark soil Palm fronds wave in the wind Salty sea air kisses your wet skin Tears make tracks on your cheeks like a map pointing to Nothingness, like a page of a book with words of moroseness Once you had my mother, birthed her into a world of noise The sure and strong hands of the matriarchal mother, Your mother, who’d delivered more babies than she’d had her numerous children Then you cooked, you toiled, swept the veranda with your broom Left the buried lock of hair in the locked cabinet of your mind Now, when I make the saltfish, I do it with stilted preparation My hands form lumpy misshapen cornmeal dumplings I fry the little ***** of dough for too long, they come out dry I pop one into my mouth and chew There, the fragrant smell of your perfume, Sweet lull of your voice, your birdlike hands.

0

Nov 10, 2023

Nov 10, 2023 at 8:27 PM UTC

girl-diffused

of loss & primal ancestry

The workman told you to bury a curled dark lock Of your dead baby’s hair in the earth, A quiet offering to a quieter god You spent several months weeping to the sky Your small hands curled into your white frock Work was left unattended in your colorful house No food on the stove, No boiling salt fish, or softened dumplings in murky white water The pungent smell of cured fish filling the quieter home The home, austere and shrinking into the long street Your helper comes to do all this Your children understand in their small ways You covered the lock of dark hair with fresh dark soil Palm fronds wave in the wind Salty sea air kisses your wet skin Tears make tracks on your cheeks like a map pointing to Nothingness, like a page of a book with words of moroseness Once you had my mother, birthed her into a world of noise The sure and strong hands of the matriarchal mother, Your mother, who’d delivered more babies than she’d had her numerous children Then you cooked, you toiled, swept the veranda with your broom Left the buried lock of hair in the locked cabinet of your mind Now, when I make the saltfish, I do it with stilted preparation My hands form lumpy misshapen cornmeal dumplings I fry the little ***** of dough for too long, they come out dry I pop one into my mouth and chew There, the fragrant smell of your perfume, Sweet lull of your voice, your birdlike hands.

28