Below is the first poem that I ever wrote in 1984. I woke up in the middle of the night needing to write and it came tumbling out of my mind into my fingers onto the paper. The imagery reflected in the poem was clearly visible as if I was there experiencing the horrors of the enslavement of Afrikan people.

The Proud Afrikan

One day I looked within and saw

someone else

not myself as I was or used to be

but a new self

a self that travelled back in time

to a far off past in a distant lane

a land that I knew not

 
And there I saw in the distance

the agonised faces of my brothers and sisters

the chains had been loosened

but the scars remained

deep in the minds and hearts

of the proud Afrikan

my spirit sank

my mind recoiled

from the cruel reality of the enslavement of Afrikans

could this evil really have happened

I thought aloud

no one answered me

And so my mind as it raced through time

was filled with speculation

for the horror and anguish

there before me

daring me to open my mind to the truth

of what was done to the proud Afrikan

Our ancestor’s tried so hard to be brave and strong

and I can feel within me

the stirring of their spirit

as I behold the lash upon their backs

scarring them for life

could this be true, I asked myself

that human beings carried out this evil

this shameful cruel abuse and terror

and nearly destroyed

the proud Afrikan

Who did this evil to us Afrikans, I asked

from somewhere far off in the distance

came the reply

fellow human beings destroyed

used and abused the proud Afrikan

as I looked on my eyes enlarged

the horror came nearer and nearer

threatening to engulf me in a sea of unreality

I must get back I cried

back to my world of safety

Too late, too late

said the voice of the proud Afrikans

I didn’t blink as I recognised

the crease of pain upon their brow

and felt my heart break

that they should have suffered

such shame, torment and terror

for the Arab man and the white man’s greed

Time has move on

but still today they are here

still oppressing, the proud Afrikan

so , people

don’t expect  me to smile or laugh

at your crude jokes and insensitivity

for they touch the heart of me and mine

for we bear the scars of the proud Afrikan

This next poem is on a lighter note and is about an experience I had when I started my nurses training at Kingston Hospital in Surrey.  It is self-explanatory and some sections are written in the Jamaican language.

Tark Pash

Mi memba when

Mi start nurse training

Uppa Kingstan aspital

Wi hafe ina school

Fi six weeks

Well!

Having gained entry

Tu what ah cansida

Tu bi

De moss depressin werk ina de world

Which nobaddy

Shud du

Unless dem pay dem a whole heap ah moni

Ah wus canfrunted by de senior tuta

“lawd”

she tark pash

de oman ask mi politely

ina her well cultivated voice

if mi wus baan unda Bow Bells

“ah weh she ah tark bout”

mi she tu myself

is weh Bow Bells

hafe du wid me

soh mi tek mi courage

ina mi han

an ask her what she mean

she tell mi she

“ah ongle people

weh baan unda Bow Bells

is real cockney, soh

now dat mi going tu be nurse

mi fi cultivate new tarking”

“bway!”

she shud ah si

how mu insides ah laugh

mi she tu myself

mi cum ah Inglan

cum learn fi tark like white people

now de oman ah tell mi she

mi tarking like de wrong

white people

“Bway!”

yu can’t be yuself

ina dis yah world

My Brother's Farewell

 
You’re out of it my brother

Son of my mother’s womb

Tears were shed by many for you

But I wonder now

If perhaps

You weren’t the most sensible of us all

You’re out of it my brother

The manipulating, crawling obsequiousness

And greed

Of women and men

I think now, that you were more sensible

Than I gave you credit for

You looked so dead

In that coffin

Your face a blue black

Was not happy as it should have been in death

Funny

That I’m only now

Shedding some tears for you

As I realise what a lucky fellow you are

To have escaped the torrents of this life

As gale force stress

Seeks to overtake

The mind of men and women

The Afrikan race has sunk

To the depths of inhumanity

They are craving worldly goods

At the expense of their children’s destiny

My brother

Let me wish you farewell

But need I say

That you are well off

Out of this rat race

They say that only the good die young

And I feel now that they are right

For to know the truth about life

And to be unable to do anything

To change the way that life is being lived

Is to be unable to stay any longer

In this world

So, today

I say farewell

My brother Derek

I’m sorry that you died so young

But glad for you

That you took the way that you thought was best

We have all come to see

That your trust in your beloved

Was misplaced

And that she meant to harm you all the time

But then, isn’t that the way of the world

Anyway, you’re gone

And life has to carry on

One long unholy nightmare

Where corruption, greed and evil abounds

From the highest official

Down to the lowliest peasant

It seems though

That some of us are seeing a clearer way

As we realise that the wicked shall not prosper

For just look at the wicked now

They can no longer control the earth

As despair, anger, rage and hopelessness strikes

Even into the life of the new born baby

And still the wicked fail to see

That Revelation time is upon the land

The poem above is about when money becomes more important than a person’s life

The Question of Love

What is love

Many have asked the question

Well here I am with the answer

Love is that compelling feeling

That renders one weak

And incapable of resistance

To that loved ones request

Love I tell you

Is that emotion

That torments your every waking minute

Moving you one second to heaven

But reminding you

Again and again of the agony of hell

Love I say

Holds the world captive

It never dies

For it makes us all believe

Again and again

That this time

We have found our perfect love

That this time we have found our soul mate

That this time

We have truly, truly, found love

Power Struggles

Women seem to have lost their way in the power struggles

With men, somehow, they seem to have lost their self-respect

And in their desires to become something other than themselves

Many have disgraced themselves and are now unhappy

In my opinion women need not aspire to maleness

Once a woman always a woman

What women need to be about is making sure

That, men, other women and society know

That we have a great deal of respect for ourselves

Consequently, we as women do not intend

To tolerate bad behaviour from our men

From other women

From society or from anyone

We want equal chances in jobs, in education

And in all sections of the society

We will not accept that we are not as able as men

Because we now know that the Afrikan worldview

Before oppressive forces destroyed it

Was based upon equality

We as women therefore have no intention

Of being told that we must stay at home

Cooking, washing and cleaning

We have ability and we intend to use it

A lady once described her husband to me as “Dat dutty Jancrow”, this statement bruised me to the core of my being, because I couldn’t understand how anyone could be living with someone, whom they describe in this manner.  So this poem is about standing up for one’s rights:

Don't Tell Me, Tell Him

You tell me that he treats you bad

And how this makes you sad

You tell me that he stays out late

And how this makes you mad

You tell me that he refuses

To help around the house

And how this makes you feel bad

Well, sister, times have changed

So don’t tell me tell him

I’m sorry that he’s bad to you

But honestly sister

What are you going to do?

For at the end of the day

It’s really up to you

To tell him

To tell him what you expect from him

To make him understand

That this type of life style

Isn’t what you expect from your man

So tell him sister, go on tell him

He’s got no more rights than you

To behave in a bad way

But sister you have to decide

What action you will take

Because when all is said and done

It’s up to you to tell him

So sister, don’t be frightened

Don’t be shy

You have equal rights just like your man

Don’t allow them to be trampled on

So, go on sister

Tell him

You’ll be doing yourself and him a favour

Let me end with a short poem about love

Love has the biggest heart

in the world

It feels for everyone.