MY POEMS

POETRY... FLOETRY~~.. WORDS IN SHORTER SENTENCES THAT SOMETIMES RHYME
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Every now and then a poem taps me on the shoulder and asks me... some BEG me to write them. And I mean EVERY BLUE MOON!! Yes! That infrequently! 

I believe that poems are like errant children who will not come home until they are WELL and truly ready, no matter how we may try to summon them.


I have patiently waited for the few poems I know I have in me and thank God, a few of them arrived before the proverbial cows came home!

For the ones that did, I am sharing them with you here... as they arrive and announce themselves and the thing about poems I find is that they always seem brilliant when you write them but years afterwards you run into them and wondered what the hell were you thinking! LOL So just in case these end up as bad poetry I wrote at one point, I apologise in advance for subjecting you to them. But for now, since I am still blinded by the freshness of their birth. Enjoy! :)
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 24/1/2013
4:20am



Another Place and Time

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There was a time when I loved flowers
and had time to gather them
often from the wild
on unhurried Sunday drives
plucking wild orchids from the bark of trees
And took them home to tame them. 



 
I remember stopping my car in what seemed like
DEEP in the middle of nowhere
to separate ferns from the roots of canopied trees
deep in the hills of Nine-Miles
near where Bob Marley is STILL buried, 
despite Mama Rita's protests

Hmmm... I distinctly remember heading up to Irish Town hills
having left Papine and Gordon Town
in the exhaust fumes of the car I was driving
or being driven in,
Scattering Ground Doves from their leisurely strolls and pecking feasts
in the middle of winding roads
that offered dizzying views of city Kingston and the Mona Dam.

Winding past the soldier camp and Blue Mountain Inn,
To a place called 
Starlight Chalet and Health Spa 
where an invisible waterfall
Created music
and the Blue Mountains formed a wall of green
Puckered with the occasional tree
and abundant ravines

And I had a green house built JUST for me
By a man who loved me then
And his gifts to me were PLANTS AND FLOWERS 
THAT I could propagate, 
grow whole gardens from
Rather than rose or other buds that would fade after only a few days
He would also gift me rat-bat dung that had sparkles in them
and would only stink to high heaven when wet
but made my 'Teddy-Bear' ferns the greenest I had ever seen


When I wasn't on the quest for flowers
I would be hunting antiques
Things that ‘lived’ and served others
in a time when they were 'modern' then
I indulged, was indulged
and would gaze at views
while driving through the Sligoville Hills
that few bothered to stop to see

 
I made friends in James Mountain
And met some people who gave me a roots tonic that I swear
Helped to create my daughter
as she was conceived in the very month 
I began to drink the bloody thing..
Not that I regret it! LOL
We had been waiting on her for years!! :)
And she arrived; beautiful and perfect
and heralded a different era in our lives
that led us both in different directions
while looking through the same lens ... somewhat.

There was a time when I loved flowers 
And had time to gather them
I feel that time approaching again! :)

But this time, instead of a daughter,
We will have a son..
And I will name him for you!
Instead of a patriarchal grandfather who adored me
And knew I was carrying his female grand child
long before I or the doctors knew the gender.

He is dead now,
The cancer in his lungs proving a match for him
who wore perfectly ironed clothes and English caps
just to sit on the verandah and gaze at his beloved cows
in the pasture in front of the house that led to the old tumbled down bus stop
at the entrance to the old Alexandria Hospital
Though no bus ever stopped there
as taxis took passengers from Charlton
where the Brown's Town buses terminated.

There was a time when
I remembered to dream
Instead of chasing my dreams
and I gathered wild ferns and orchids
and sewed some of my daughter's baby bedding
on an antique hand sewing machine
given to me by her patriarchal grand mother

And I, heavy with my daughter still in my womb,
suddenly felt the urge to draw
and write a song 
I knew she would one day sing.

ALANA
Now she plays the bass guitar and violin
and hears background music
in the foreground of her consciousness
And laughs at my ability to drown it out
and mainstream other things
And when she is bored or content,
she draws the most beautiful things
On whim.

She lives in a world of science and discoveries
and YouTube videoed songs 
and anime and loves anything Japanese
She has taught herself the language
and is convinced that she would rather make pastry for a living
than do any of the more traditional career ideas I often schemed 

I know one day I will gather flowers again
But instead of in a greenhouse,
I think I will place them on my window sill
Where they will be safe from Old Man Winter’s chill
After all, it is hard to nurture a perennial garden
in a place where biting frost will kill 
and the sun visits infrequently. 

- EXCERPT FROM ROAD MAPS TO MYSELF... Notes to Belonging.
-Andrea Downer aka Jolie Jamz aka FireStorm


 
Randy aka Rocka aka Rocka Buski aka Jah B ... Alana's dad







Someone once said:


Unless it's 'MAD',
PASSIONATE,
EXTRAORDINARY love,
It IS a waste of time.
There are too many mediocre things in life
LOVE
should NOT be one of them."  
_______
I AGREE... `` FireStorm``
 
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25/12/2012
2:3am


ISLAND SPICE~~~ FireStorm



I am scotch bonnet pepper
coconut run dung
that lingers on your tongue...

The Julie Mango
Escovietch fish
Bammy,
Fritters
Festival and steamed Snapper Fish
From Jolly's or
Sugar man's beach at Hellshire

I am
Reminiscent
of Sunday mornings by the seaside
with fisher folk taking from the sea
what they did not put in.

I remind YOU
of the sweet evening breeze
playing with leaves
and the cool, cool shady
that begs you
to sit
and rest awhile

I am the verandah
with the 2 rocking chairs,
the hammock heng pon the almond tree
that spreads itself proud
Like the women in Coronation market Down town

I speak with the sing song lilt
that reminds you of reggae and soca
and something else
that makes you close your eyes
and try to remember... WHAT??

I am Island Spice
EVERYTHING nice..
A raging.... flaming ``FireStorm``



Alicia Keys - Girl On Fire (Inferno Version) ft. Nicki Minaj
[[[ CLICK...CLICK...CLICK... PLAY ]]]]
NIKKI & ALICIA TEARIN' it UpPP!! #WORD!



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LOVE DEFERRED - A little HELP here PLEASE!! :(
Aug 30, 2012 5:56am



How do you tell someone 
who seemed ready to love you
That it's not that you were not attracted to them
NOT that you were not capable of loving them
But you were just not yet ready 
for the complicated 
and often very INVOLVED business of loving?




How do you explain to them,
get them to understand 
that while they were busy 
Trying to convince you 
To let THEM love YOU
You had just got finished with the business
of loving yourself and 
YOU craved the leisure of basking
in the after glow of that self love
for a while
Before 
embarking on another quest
of meeting of SOULS.. bodies.. lusts
passions.. lives 
And all the other exchanges, bartering 
compromises 
That are all a part of the marketplace of loving??

How do you tell him that his reggae, fast paced 
pulse kind of loving
Conflicted with your easy like a Sunday morning
Jazz rhythm blues of a tune that is your soul's 
Love song... wind song 
that gets your heart to move
From the place you placed it for safe keeping
Just in case a tide of feelings came rushing in
In that one moment 
when you are not looking?

I wish I could have calibrated
My heart so that it would have synchronised 
with your intent, desires and wishes 
The minute you arrived at love's door with your 
Urgent knock
Insistent to be let in ...

Oh how I wish I could have yielded
at your bidding
Give in and be taken by a tide of feeling
By blind faith to a place I had never seen
Never been
And which even you were not able to describe 
eloquently
convincingly enough to get me to move
From where I was
To where you were
In time.

How do I tell him 
All this
And get him to understand?
Sigh...
A little help here... please??  -- (BlackRose) aka ``FireStorm``


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A WHOLE LOT OF MEMORIES... AN AWFUL LOT OF MISSING and ENOUGH of YOU TO GO AROUND..

I miss curling up with you
back to belly
Your breath feather light
on the nape of my neck

Your hand no longer urgent
Slow dances in Braille-like sequence
in the small of my back
Where I like to be touched 
Afterwards

Gossamer finger tips
Lulling me to sleep... - FireStorm

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August 9, 2012

NIGGA .... PLUESSE!!

YOU 
are 
Nothing but the sum total 
of borrowed parts

A LIE
dressed up 
to look like the truth

Diabolic sneers 
lurk
beneath the thin veneer
of normalcy 
you try to clothe yourself with - FireStorm

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August 3, 2012 - 1:48am

!!!RAISING MY CLENCHED 'CLIT' IN RESISTANCE!!!!

Whispered Resistance
I
Am
Much more
Than a 
vAgInA
To be SeDuCeD
into submission...

Much 
MORE
than a succulent flower
READY 
to be PICKED, 
PLUCKED, 
OWNED by the highest 'bidder'

I cannot 
be
taken in a 'kiss-beat'
From staunch 
Resistance

To quivering
OrGasMiC
Submission!

Am
PLANTED
Too DAMN
DEEP
To be 'swept off my feet'

I
Am
SO MUCH MORE
Than a C-Word, the 'B-word, that P-Word
ALL rolled ~~ into ONE..."

Am deaf
To YOUR cat calls
or wolf whistles
They don't wake the feline
Won't make me smile

Your CaReFuLLy Crafted
Come on lines
Have seen a THOUSAND sunrise
They are 
just plain 'Fanny-Homer Lou' TiREd
I DON'T even need a lullaby 

You're forked tongue 
That looks suspiciously LoNg... (read WRONG!)
Will NOT!
I swear! Make me cum!
NOR RUN ~~~~

I
Am 
like the Shame-A-Macka tree
Whey grow a bush.

If you barely brush 'gainst mee

Mi quail up
Right afta mi Juuk yuh inna yuh foot...

Mi come een like Cow Itch!
Doan try come badda mi wid yuh foolishniss! 
YOU 
DON'T 
want 
NONNA THIS!! -- FireStorm.



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To Me
ALL Poets 
are related
And it is on that same incestuous bed 
of verbal pairings, thrustings, writhing thoughts 

turned to expressions

That we oft meet 

to consummate our love 
for eloquence
for beauty
For life, captured in a sentence ..
Words
Dripping from minds
Lips
pens... finger tips..  - ANDREA V. DOWNER. (`` FireStorm`` )





















2 comments:

  1. Just finished reading. I like the talk to the hand illustration. Keep on doing what you are doing Jolz.You certainly have a gift, thanks for sharing.

    ReplyDelete
  2. U are welcome Sharon and thanks for your constant support and encouragement. It means a lot.

    ReplyDelete