"sugarcane" poems
Dreadlock Rasta;
No like informa,
No like imposta,
**** smoke; burning da trees
Mango scented leaves,
Burnt grapefruit scented breeze.
Wolly mammoth size locks,
Steal wool, ***** tied in a knot,
Jamaican colors wrap tie; sitting on top.
I and I, believe it or not.
No woman no cry,
No problem;
Him cool as a rock.
Charles Dickens by his side,
Studying stanzas, deciphering plots.
Prayer's meeting;
meditation- never stop.
Water’s blue waves,
Fresh fish after 12’o clock.
Under the bridge, find my spot.
By his sweet Sugarcane from,
Miss Parker Sugarcane shop
Burning a spliff, because the ****
is his only green; pastures plot.
Mary Jane, his only queen be,
Never leaving he; love him or not.
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 4:35 PM UTC
An odor has remained among the sugarcane:
a mixture of blood and body, a penetrating
petal that brings nausea.
Between the coconut palms the graves are full
of ruined bones, of speechless death-rattles.
The delicate dictator is talking
with top hats, gold braid, and collars.
The tiny palace gleams like a watch
and the rapid laughs with gloves on
cross the corridors at times
and join the dead voices
and the blue mouths freshly buried.
The weeping cannot be seen, like a plant
whose seeds fall endlessly on the earth,
whose large blind leaves grow even without light.
Hatred has grown scale on scale,
blow on blow, in the ghastly water of the swamp,
with a snout full of ooze and silence
8.8k
Brown maple sugar,
Cinnamon toast complexion.
Hershey chocolate chip.
Carmel Hazel brown eyes,
Red sugarcane lips.
Your curvy curvaceous thighs.
With enough melanin color blended so perfectly together, bronzing the brownish shade of your muscles.
Natural ethnic hair.
Thick, coarse or silky.
It is perfectly acceptable by me.
***** so big it needs to have its own legs to stand on.
Your blackness is ****
And it **** sure is beatiful.
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
Summer was
******* on sugarcane and cinnamon peels
handed from your grandparents, occasionally mine
when our roller-skates made love to cracks in
the sidewalk
our knees were drunk on its feathers
so many specks of moss get caught in there, too
you taught me not to cry
or have that formaldehyde-chugging look
until I hit the bunkbed; your sheets made my sweat
look so much worse
we got anything we could want.
I wanted to kiss you when your wore your
Popsicle lipstick, a freeze cracking the crib of your
mouth and circling buzzards around.
But how does a girl say
she would rather have someone than a cigarette
stick of candy from the ice cream man –
the ones she would twirl like cherry stems
and feign middle school maturity?
We would whisper about things at night
with the lamp off, our pants down
but never ever love:
love is for adults. Love is Mardi Gras in the city
not powdered sugar from beignets
or the kind of beads you settle around your neck.
I wanted to be the bayou you swam in,
cast your fishing pole at the underbelly of and
counted how many seconds it took to lift back up.
I wanted to be a chest you put
your personal belongings in, a treasure box.
Most of all, I wanted
to be your personal belonging
the treasure you immediately thought of –
but that is not what Summer was.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
Heirloom rose petals fall delicately in the rabbit hole,
Rose tinted visions of you. Visions of ecstasy.
Adrenaline rush, crystal precipitation beads.
Perfection. Purity - You. Like snow covered marble.
Dopamine fostering the rush of euphoria.
Morphined sugarcane for blood vessels
& the labyrinth of love...
my gateway to wonderland.
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
Monkey and goose
Snake and bull
And their friend Tiger Lou
Met at hummingbird's garden
For an afternoon's tea for two
In hummingbird's garden
Raised the most precious flowers
Be they red or blue , pink or white
To all that viewed
It was a dazzling sight
Somewhere between succulent sips
The question of God's existence
Became more than a quip
Where is it that God can be found ?
Is he here upon Earth or some holiest ground ?
Then goose said , "I will fly across this land .
My wings are strong and
When it comes to tiring , I have no end .
From high away I can see . So please ,
For certain , I am the one to send ."
Monkey said ,"I can swing from
Tree to tree all day long .
So high that I can see
Every aspect of the land .
So if anyone goes , let it be me ."
Snake said ,"I will slither , I will crawl
Across the swamp , across the bog .
If this God exists , surely
I will be the one
To bring back a certainty ."
Bull steps in as to be not excluded
"I will cross the plains from end to end .
I will search from dawn to dawn .
If there be such a place
It will be found by me on Earth's green lawn ."
Tiger Lou steps up with a growl
"I will go searching in the fields of rice .
I will go where the sugarcane grows .
I will not stop , so cast my lot .
When I come back , it will be told ."
Then they left , each in a separate way
And they would be gone for many a day
But then there came the day to pass Goose and Monkey , snake and bull and Tiger Lou
Met at hummingbird's with finished task
Goose said "I have found God !
And I know the only way ."
"Say Hey !" said the monkey,"For you are all wrong !
Through the woods have I found God !
It's through the woods all day long ."
"Nay !" snake had to say ,"I found God
And only I know the way .
Across the swamp , I'm here to state
Is the only way to him .
Anything else is tempting fate ."
Bull bellows most loudly of all
"You fools , I have searched for days and days . It's across the fields of grass
That you must go to God . And by the way ,
All of your remarks are so crass ."
Tiger Lou darkened his eyes
"Idiots ! The devil has fooled you all .
If you seek God , I and only I know the way .
To show you let me say .
So apologize or step back away ."
Then there was a vicious roar
Monkey strangled goose , snake bit monkey's knee
Tiger bit snake in half , then bull flung Tiger
High into the sky , breaking his back with a Crack
Bull burst his heart with such strength , and didn't linger
Hummingbird in her garden was saddened
Began humming and humming a song
The song turned into a chant that flew to heaven
Where God was and is today
Waiting for searching souls that he will never abandon
Monkey , goose , bull , snake , and Lou
Before God stood , looking blue
"Have you fools anything to say ?"
But only silence crossed their lips
"Listen closely to what I have to say."
"Only I know the way .
Only I , for I am the way .
Only through me can there be a way .
And only by my gift of salvation
Can you stay ."
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
I went to the park,
Read the board on the entrance,
It was suggested to plant a sapling.
It said that we plant a tree for our lover,
I counted the number of my past lovers,
And decided to set up a sugarcane farm!
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 11:09 PM UTC
So proud to live in Queensland, for all it has to share
For anywhere else, in this great land I really just don't care.
I love the smell of burning cane
The ash flying through the air.
This sunburnt state was my home before I went away.
My wife and kids I left behind, hoping to see another day
I answered this great nations call when I was just nineteen.
That didn't stop the enthusiasm, boy I was so keen.
Timor, Iraq, Afghanistan, before I turned twenty five.
On return home to this state my life then took a dive.
The friend left first, the social life. No more did that exist.
The nightmares and the drinking took their place, to this day they do persist.
My family suffered most of all, my moods went bad to worse.
I went through stages where i almost gave up on everything in my life that had any worth.
I got some help in Hospital to help mend my tormented ways.
That way I can spend the rest of my life spending all my days,
In this sunburnt state of ours, at the family home
Now I only feel normal, when I am alone
I now spend all my time on the family farm raising sheep pigs chooks and cows.They can at least be trusted, I can spend hours and hours
This state is more than just a loc, a place you say you live, Queensland is the only place that has given so much, but still continues to give.
I love this state, ill never move. Till the day I die
Even if they said to me, it's easy if you try
But when I go remember that, I have been tormented, torn and broken,
but at least i lived in paradise the truest words ever spoken
Gavin H
20 May 2014
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 4:05 AM UTC
Welcome my Princess! Oh Heavens,
For the queen of my heart
Is about to offer to nature
Her complete beauty of Africa,
Give her the Kente cloth
In its rich, natural and splendid array,
And offer her newborn feet with
The golden sandals and diamond beads,
Behold! There she descends from the
Unapproachable eternal flames of the sun,
With the divine firmament
Fizzling at her flammable tune,
See how the precious fragrant branches
Of the clouds covers her lovely feet,
For the clouds have gathered and there is
Nothing more to expect but the storm,
Oh yes, I have found a ****** woman,
The beauty among the daughters of great men,
Whose eyes are as brilliant as the star
And as delightful as a sugarcane;
Behold, her face is as bright as palm wine;
Her hair sleeps like a slender thread,
And her stature is as that of a pawpaw tree,
She is called Obaahemaa Kabutuwaa
And truly she is Rasses Kabutuwaa
Whose eyes are those of the faithful dove,
Truly, Kabutuwaa whose
Gods is like that of bees,
Slim, black and full of sweetness,
Truly, Kabutuwaa is obedient and wise,
Truly, Kabutuwaa for whom
All men felt love in their hearts!
Come! Oh my unveiled one,
And expose thy soft and loamy face,
For the nations shall seek and
Behold thy enviable eternal beauty,
Ah, the proud effeminate shadow of Africa,
Please show the angelic face of
Thy love to my perturbed soul,
For thou art an African ****** indeed.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:58 AM UTC
on my right leg,
under my knee
lives a cinnamon colored stain
that looks a bit like africa
the same way i look a bit like africa
in the shape of my nose
and the waves of my curls
waves like the water that carried my
ancestors in boats
all the way to this island
of salt and sugarcane
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 1:50 PM UTC
Upon the stale wind, her body flails again
I came walking through the field
to learn about compassion
She was blonde and the last heart in town
The moon bathed her from within
What a loveless dream from that tree
touching God's skin.
Her feet above my head, painted in mud and above the sugarcane
And if I didn't love her so, I'd be able to walk from this pain
But I recall her warm breath the last time we kissed
The air tasted of a broken soul that I failed to fix
Blood under her nails, scratching freedom too slow
If she was yelling for my name, then I'd rather not know
It might as well been me who hung her above the stars
I did not give her enough of me and it will haunt me for years
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 6:02 PM UTC
He craved a father like a burnout
licking his sugarcane eyes &
slapping them on
any surface they'd stick &
he called night The Kingdom
would wander off for ages
said *I don't need to know
where I'm goin'*
said *Someday I'll have already
found it* & maybe he's right
*All people die a little
more in daylight*
he was 16
a dry firecracker
one spark away
from infinite eruption
Aug 26, 2014
Aug 26, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
orange marmalade
gooey on our fingertips,
sweet on your lips. i say
i could spend all day feeding
you toast and honey but no
no only cookies you tell me.
the warmth from behind your
knees runs through my thighs
and i think i could get used to
the way the sun turns your
skin as golden as your heart.
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 2:57 AM UTC
Sometimes I wish love was just an option,
that feelings materialized by chance
and the many rooms of the heart were filled with cotton.
That we could choose to see what's behind the door,
that it was an A, B or C answers on a game show.
That it was a myth, the most ridiculous fantasy novel,
that it could easily be buried on a night with alcohol and a shovel.
I wish love was just an option,
that it came with the ability to fly,
because us mortals are not equipped to fall from such heights,
but yet, we do.
I wish love was just an option,
that our tears were made of sugarcane bliss
and the taste on our lips didn't belong to a kiss
but yet, they do.
Because love it's not an option,
it’s not a text message filled with X’s & O’s
it’s not Hollywood happy ending
it’s not a Kardashian wedding
it’s not a facebook ‘Relationship Status’
it's not iPhone App
it’s not what’s perceived on the outside
it's the parade of emotions running rampant in your insides.
Because love is not an option, my love,
alas, it's the only one.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 11:21 AM UTC
I am
corn-fed girl of
middle land
glaciers rested here
then chose to stay
melted into the ground
from which stalks sprouted
I am
daughter of floods
on the plains
pioneer of the elementary school prairie
conqueror of the long highways
that stretch from flat horizon
to flat horizon
I am
speaker of tongues
imperfectly
I am
curious
seeking the limbo where
East meets West
I am
austriangermanhungarianslovenianpolishscottishwelshirishspanishcomancheiowan
I am
He is
sugarcane sweet boy of
Partition’s land
born on the right side
border still bathed in the blood
of those born in the wrong
He is
son of monsoons
and spider-web trees
longing for his land
visitor of Swat
disparaging long lost tranquility
uprooted, exiled
frequenter of south asian sweets houses
He is
a bad dancer
He is
guiltless in this battle between
East and West
He is
pakistanimultanisiraikidesipunjabi
He is
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 3:19 PM UTC
Loving you is not only my passion,
But it has also become my sole creed,
Yes it is my unfailing duty, darling.
Loving you does not only yield pleasure,
But it even gives me a sense of responsibility,
Yes it is my purest relationship, darling.
Loving you will not only be all I do in life,
But it also inspires me to be well off financially,
Yes it is already inspiring me to toil, darling.
Loving you would not only satisfy my heart,
But it would also quench the inner thirst of my soul,
Yes it is my milk shake and my sugarcane juice.
Loving you can not only help me live longer,
But it brings the sweetest changes in my bitter life,
Yes it is bringing you to my me my future wife.
Loving you won't just be a reason to be proud,
But it will bring me the actual family of my own,
Yes it is going to be a story worth remembering.
Loving you could not just be my exclusive right,
But it will be a privilege of our kids from tomorrow,
Yes it is so good for us having you young at heart.
Loving you is not only such hopes in my heart,
But it is also a promise for the brighter days ahead,
Yes it is a blessing and a boon granted to me, dear.
Loving you is not just expectations on my mind,
But it will also bring planned happiness to us both,
Yes it is a planned future for the two of us besties.
Loving you is not for my own self-centric interests,
But it is with keeping your future smile in my mind,
Yes it is both a priority in my life and also its crux.
Loving you is not just the important duty of my soul,
But it will also continue to pacify you even in my absence,
Yes it is giving you the confidence and that flair to win.
Loving you is not just everything right for you & me,
But it could also be something fruitful for the society too,
Yes it is giving us both the purest of all heavenly feeling.
Loving you is not only the superhuman thing I feel,
But it is a security for me as well knowing you love me too,
Yes it is my last resort where I bask in the harshest sun.
Loving you is not just my most important deed in life,
But it is also always inspiring me to be by your side steadily,
Yes it is going to be me holding your shoulder in difficulty.
Loving you is not only this serious discipline of mine,
But it is even a way to give me this never before happiness,
Yes it is helping you and me to discover ourselves better.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
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..
.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 10:51 AM UTC
It’s a place where an enticing bay sways,
Music dancing on the misty breezes,
Humdrums of level heads mingle effortlessly,
The constant waves lap up on indigo stacks,
The sun sits bejeweled in the sky,
Sandy stalks of sugarcane sweeten the air,
Drink and pleasure abound,
Vagabonds and harlequins twirl and chant,
The dusk and the dawn live together,
Creamy silver and golden haze weather,
The aesthetic is O so grand,
Celebrations of life here in the sand.
Mad trolleys take them to the city,
The hustle and bustle reduced to saunter,
Adornments of every shape and design,
Line the alleys and canals,
Flora and fauna engrained in the DNA,
Every bit of the city breathes, sighs and laughs,
Back at the bay they all rest together,
Making love by driftwood fires,
They sing like mad poets and howl to one another,
Everyone becomes an instrument,
Everything becomes equal.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:38 PM UTC
We began with doubts in the dark night-
Everything that came under the sky of night-
The noiseless stars -that were just flickers
In the crisp air of a deep night and crickets
That creaked from dark and thorny bushes.
We thought of sultry bears that came down
From the hills for ripe sugarcane in fields
On windy nights when we were sleeping
On the river bank, with a long stick safely
Sleeping beside us on a springy string cot.
The dogs sculpted their own long protests
At the howling wind and bush rat’s scrawl .
There in the sketchy bushes of darkness
The lizards slept fitfully wary of night snakes.
Outside, the fireflies tantalized the country.
Our doubts persisted through the night ,
Going on unabated in sleep and dreams.
At the cock's crow they dissolved in sleep.
Oct 15, 2010
Oct 15, 2010 at 7:21 PM UTC
here lies, too, his lover still
doting from the daffodils
shrieking, hot and virile; shrill
caressing flesh she's soon to ****
so goes, whence?, the evening train
as she, longing to love again
lust as deep as sugarcane
howl at me between the rain
enter, now, the corpse of faun
carved from wet, unsightly lawn
lithe and nubile as a swan
murky eyes look further on
at last, rise from the netherworld
'round her fearsome finger curled
soul diffused and newly pearl
kissing the form you call a girl
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 8:19 PM UTC
-----------I weave my grand mother's spirit to life--------
when I paint with my words what she dreamed
in her life. My grandmother's kimono sat in the dark never
worn; so needs a dusting--I lift it up into this light to be
seen, to be heard, to be felt, fabric of loving heart
dreams to be. It's not perfectly shaped or tattered or torn,
rather fermented beyond her time to take form. My
Grandma loved to eat her white rice she ate thirty
seven million grains of rice by the time she reached her
104-- Born on a sugarcane plant'tion on the coast of
Oahu, a child in the tropics then a teen in Japan. Her
family returned to their roots to learn, & grow, reenter the
cultural force. She discovered her new talent as
------------------------------
K I M O N O
A R T I S T
------------------------------
Kikuyo Yamamoto became
liberated as an artist and then
her life changed as her family
demanded she leave her position
and marry away to a Japanese man
who lives in California (my Grand
father). The matchmaker said it
would work really well....She
endured life as an American farm
wife, then life in Japanese intern-
ment camps. Five children, nine
grandchildren...Dear Grandmother
I know you had lots to surrender-
I honor your life as mother,
grandmother, and artist --I
wove this poem in the form
of a kimono for you May your
spirit rest in peace. I love you.
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 2:42 AM UTC
~
This love, our love
intoxicating as peach wine
fresh from the tree
low hanging,
tempting
picked ripe and sweet
nimble fingers
translucent syrup drips
when warmed deliberately
on the coral flames of
fruit bearing eyes
drenching my skin, sticky
refined sugarcane butter
smeared over
delicate lips
love note servings
harvested moon light
illumined desires
orchard promises
in delicious sips…
this love, our love
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
His naked hands, so cold
I become lavender
sticks poking from lace sheaths, wanting to
be a wedding dress
or just a piece of someone in love
the powder, aroma of a man
who forsook his lover last spring.
Her tomb is just a box filled with earth
that opens to the pearly
gate of heaven
and each of her legs have grown
stiff because god so desperately needed to
shape a marble mold of the most
perfect being he
ever created and killed way, way too soon.
(the road has ended as
many stories as it has begun)
Hot concrete pried her mouth open
and I will be the one to
sing through it until she gets her voice back
like using sugarcane
to lure clouds into leaving the sky.
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
Frequently
I imagine
Unwrapping you
slowly (softly) a gift that
I have dreamed of
Feeling your skin again (and again)
I am grasping for moments
(for you)
I want to cement in me the
softness of your (living)
the sharpness of your bones
sweet like sugarcane
below your surface.
I am here to catch
every breath between my
tingling fingers
caramel tongue
slowly unwrapping (me)
Frequently.
Dec 3, 2017
Dec 3, 2017 at 2:42 PM UTC