Only one of me, p.7

Only One of Me, page 7

 

Only One of Me
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and took me off. Other exotics

  got collected up in cars and coaches

  to be naked on beaches, while

  steelbird stood there shiny-ready

  for more come-and-go trips.

  From My Sister’s Secret Notebook

  Earthworm and Fish

  Like a gown, it wears the ground

  and in there it is found.

  Outside, it wiggles and squirms.

   It is a naked earthworm.

  Like a gown, it wears water

  and shares that living-quarters.

  Outside, soon, fish is dead.

   Is open air like heaven to a fish?

  Seashell

  Shell at my ear –

  come share how I hear

  busy old sea in whispers.

  Moans rise from ancient depths

  in ocean sighs

  like crowds of ghost monsters.

  Waves lash and fall –

  in roars and squalls

  with all a mystery ahhh!

  Trapped

  I only tried to set the trap

  and didn’t expect it to snap.

  Feeling such a sudden whack

  I endured such a lonely shock.

  I only tried to set the trap

  and didn’t expect it to snap.

  Flash of trap – with its spiked catcher –

  fastened down my every finger.

  Oh, how I cried and softly cried!

  Getting so hurt, I could’ve died.

  I only tried to set the trap

  catch that banana-eating rat:

  and didn’t expect it to snap.

  Thinking Before I Sleep

   It’s good seeing how –

  like jaws biting into food

  and scissors cutting into paper –

  legs move, one after the other.

   It’s good seeing how –

  like leaves falling –

  birds flutter down

  with open wings to settle.

   It’s good seeing how –

  like a road or a foot-track –

  water makes it own way, over

  and between hills and rocks,

  to flow on, in its own river bed.

  Taking Action

  I dream I am

  high flying duck’s eyes

  over an ocean, washed

  in fire-splash sunset.

  I dream I am

  two swimming shark’s eyes

  in search of swallowed

  whole-fish dinner.

  I dream we cross an open field

  and face a lion in our track.

  Making one group-body, oddly, we

  come together, thrusting arms like horns

  and flapping our clothes like fighting

  wings, while we scream in waves

  like ear-splitting sirens.

  The lion turns and runs in terror.

  I dream I am

  colour pieces of feelings

  in music-notes, jumping up

  on the keys of a piano

  playing it together.

  I dream of a lot that puzzles me.

  A Nest Full of Stars

  Only chance made me come and find

  my hen, stepping from her hidden

  nest, in our kitchen garden.

  In her clever secret place, her tenth

  egg, still warm, had just been dropped.

  Not sure of what to do, I picked up

  every egg, counting them, then put them

  down again. All were mine.

  All swept me away and back.

  I blinked, I saw: a whole hand

  of ripe bananas, nesting.

  I blinked, I saw: a basketful

  of ripe oranges, nesting.

  I blinked, I saw: a trayful

  of ripe naseberries, nesting.

  I blinked, I saw: an open bagful

  of ripe mangoes, nesting.

  I blinked, I saw:

  a mighty nest full of stars.

  Caribbean Playground Song

  Say, Good mornin, Granny Maama

  Good mornin, Granpa Taata.

  Good mornin when it rainin.

  Good mornin when sun shinin.

    Good mornin.

  Say, Good mornin, Miss Pretty-Pretty.

  Good mornin, one-yeye Mista Shorty.

  Good mornin when sun shinin.

  Good mornin when hurrikaanin

    Good mornin.

  Say, Good mornin, Mista Big-N-Fat-Man.

  Good mornin, Mista Maaga Man.

  Good mornin when sun shinin.

  Good mornin when hurrikaanin

    Good mornin.

  Say, Good mornin, Mista Lamefoot

  Good mornin, dear Miss No-Toot.

  Good mornin when sun shinin.

  Good mornin when hurrikaanin

    Good mornin.

  Say, Good mornin, dear-dear Bush Miss.

  Good mornin, dear Mista Touris.

  Good mornin when sun shinin.

  Good mornin when hurrikaanin

    Good mornin.

  Say, Good mornin, Granny Maama

  Good mornin, Granpa Taata.

    Good mornin.

  one-yeye – one-eyed

  Maaga – meagre or thin

  No-Toot – No-tooth

  Touris – tourist

  Smooth Skippin

  Skip a-show groun is evva too hot.

  Easy. Easy. Whether thin or fat

  a-listn poor man rattle quatty

  as him go on all chatty-chatty.

  Skip betta than doin a frog jump.

  Skip betta than droppin on yu rump –

  a-listn of lady at fireside

  a-tell bout the prettiest bride.

  a-tell bout the prettiest bride.

  a-tell bout the prettiest bride . . .

  a-show – showing

  a-listn – listening

  quatty – old sterling coins

  a-tell – telling

  Old Man Called ‘Arawak’

  Cos he coughed, coughed and choked

  as he smoked, smoked and smoked

  spitter man old Daddy Brock

  got named Smoker Arawak.

  Got named Smoker Arawak.

  Cos he ate only best bammy

  made by best-loved granny

  old man Mister Mack

  got named Cassava Arawak

  Got named Cassava Arawak.

  bammy – a flat Jamaican cassava bread

  He Loved Overripe Fruits

  Hot sweaty body carrying treats

  my Caribbean Grandpa came home

  turned his pockets inside-out

  and gave us runny, soft, sticky sweets.

  Other times, the sweaty wet pockets

  brought us bruised, overripe fruits

  like bananas or blackberries

  Three plums.

  A mango.

  or, sometimes, mangoes, plums

  gineps, naseberries

  or a tempting mixture of these.

  Other times we knew how

  to push, tussle, compete hard

  to take off Grandpa’s boots.

  Not always, but, often,

  turned upside-down, the boots

  carried small-change in them:

  tipped out all round the floor,

  as he smiled, seeing who got how much.

  ginep – big-tree fruit, bunched like grapes: creamy flesh covers its stones.

  naseberry – sapodilla-plum: having sweet brown flesh.

  Queen and King Mullets

  King says, Queen Mullet, mam

  yu so prettily pinky white

  Oh, I love yu lovely sight.

  Oh, I love yu lovely sight.

  Queen says, King Mullet, sar

  yu beard is right.

  Oh, yu beard is jus, jus, right.

  Oh, yu beard is just, jus, right . . .

  Mullet – goatfish variety with pair of long barbels below the mouth like a beard.

  Doubtful Sayings

  Take hot bad licks and nevva evva cry

  you’ll give some back before yu die.

  Eat a big bug and dohn cough it up

  jaws’ll crack big nut with yu mouth shut.

  Duppy eyes livin in a cut bamboo

  will come to live in ragged ol shoe.

  Dress in notn pretty and eat notn sweet

  duppy’ll hol you han as yu walk on street.

  Eat yu food up fram pearl dishes

  yu’ll ketch fish beyond all wishes.

  You’ll ketch fish beyond all wishes . . .

  licks – blows

  ketch – catch

  Duppy Dance

  You walk too-too late at night

  duppies make your wrong road the right.

  Around you, they rattle strings of bones.

  And duppies dance. Duppies dance.

  All along deep-deep dark road

  duppies croak like huge hidden toad.

  You hear distant scary bells toll.

  And duppies dance. Duppies dance.

  Duppies make horses’ hooves clop-clop.

  Make some strange big birds flutter up.

  Make you feel your skin gone shrivelled.

  And duppies dance. Duppies dance.

  Roaring, snorting, like ten bulls,

  duppies rip off your clothes – one pull!

  Skeletons prance all around you.

  And duppies dance. Duppies dance.

  duppy – a ghost

  Getting Bigger Rap

  Watch me getting bigger and bigger

  stepping wider, walking taller.

  Nothing easier in a tussle

  but now I’m better when I whistle

  Barring too, that only game called ‘dart’

  I know much of who is who in sport.

  And though no worm with book-intake look

  I sometimes do know a latest book.

  See me how my clothes are cut in style

  all ready to walk down the aisle.

  See how more and more I’m on the ball

  and it’s little bother if I fall.

  And it’s little bother if I fall.

  Watch me getting bigger and bigger

   stepping wider, walking taller higher

  stepping wider, walking taller higher . . .

  Woods Whisperings

  We woods whisper. We whisper:

  You will find in us

  whole naked families

  of roofs, floors, beds, toothpicks,

  chest-of-drawers, bats, walking-sticks.

  We woods whisper. We whisper:

  You will find in us

  naked mask families

  of gods, devils, clowns

  and even faces of lions.

  We woods whisper. We whisper:

  You will find in us

  whole naked families

  of flutes, with one the bamboo,

  one the deep-voiced didgeridoo.

  We woods whisper. We whisper:

  You will find in us

  whole naked families

  of carved girls and boys –

  all faces of toys.

  We woods whisper. We whisper:

  You will find in us

  whole naked families

  of rocking horses.

  We woods come and live in your houses.

  Granddad’s Visitor

  After a good, big supper

  Granddad dozed off

  in his comfy chair.

  Granddad woke to see

  he had a sitting visitor

  looking at him with a strange smile.

  Granddad knew the visitor.

  He smiled, saying, ‘Hello!’

  Getting up he moved towards

  his visitor, stretching for

  a handshake. Then horror

  wipped away Granddad’s smile.

  No one was sitting there.

  Puzzled, Granddad shuffled

  back to his chair and sat.

  Looking up, he saw

  the visitor was still there.

  He knew the visitor.

  He got up again to greet

  his visitor. As he turned

  round, he saw only the chair.

  Granddad stood a while.

  Then he sat down again.

  When he looked up slowly

  no one was there.

  Mister-ry

  Wild New-Forest Pony takes my apple.

  Eats my banana too. Looks for more.

  I stroke him. He follows me. So strangely

  friendly towards me, he makes me

  suddenly name him, MISTER-RY. And, more.

  Next morning – shocks me out of bed.

  Arched back with long legs and neck

  crops grass, in our front garden. I

  rush out calling MISTER-RY! MISTER-RY!

  In a low rumble of a neigh, he comes –

  long face pushing, nuzzling me.

  Our dog, WORRIER, dashes about,

  teasing MISTER-RY to play with him.

  Picking him up, I put WORRIER lying

  flat on the back of the horse. All

  on his own he walks with dog rider

  round and round the garden. Then, my go.

  Holding neck and mane, I climb up,

  sit erect, having my trotting ride

  round the garden, when, along my

  street side, a blast of applause shakes me

  and goes on through my barebacked ride,

  never stopping. I say, OK, MISTER-RY.

  Sharp, sharp, he stops. I dismount,

  looking. I see THE QUEEN. Clapping too

  THE QUEEN is there, saying to me,

  Give him a drink now. Give him a drink.

  I run into the house. Get a bucket

  of water. Come back with it, panting

  with new disbelief.

  No horse is there.

      No audience is there.

  In the far, far distance I hear

  wild clattering of hoofs going,

  going away . . .

  Top Footballer Rap

  See quicker kicker in the grass arena:

  my Mister Wizard taker and a passer.

  His kickers and headers clock-up top scorer

  to rave-rage of the colour sports page –

  to rave-rage of the colour sports page.

  See quicker kicker in the grass arena:

  meeting every ball as a challenge for a goal

  and it’s a rabbit running how he hounds it –

  passion man of a play-ball occasion –

  passion man of a play-ball occasion.

  See quicker kicker in the grass arena:

  Mister Boot with foot with quick-quick shoot

  getting loudest roar of the crowd

  for footballer who is bliss –

  for footballer who is bliss.

  See quicker kicker in the grass arena:

  quickest taker. Swiftest passer and blocker.

  Shooter and goal finder. Opposition frustrator.

  Man of endless daring with foot looting.

  Prince of the football patch, whose ball snatch

  again and again wins the match –

   Mr Slappy-Slappy Happiness.

   Mr Slappy-Slappy –

       all happiness.

   Mr Slappy-Slappy –

       all happiness.

         All happiness.

  Looking at the Painting: ‘Fin d’Arabesque’ by Edgar Degas

  She is that special expression of dance.

  Other dancers are at ease off-stage.

  She ends a programme and highlights it.

  In performance with the company

  her lines of movements all stood out

  clean, in the music, rhythms.

  Now concealing tiredness and aches

  she performs end like beginning:

  controlled, graceful, effortless.

  Open-armed, she holds out her

  bouquet, bowing to discipline applauded

  for the triumph of dance.

  And arms, legs, costume, encircling

  her, she looks dreamlike, as if she blooms

  under leaves-filtered moonlight.

  Love of Love

  I love the love turned movement

  love and love turned enjoyment

  I love the love turned light and seeing

  love and love turned night and knowing

  I love the love turned mother

  love the love turned father

  I love the love turned summer

  love the love turned water

  I love the love turned fire

  love the love turned desire

  I love the love turned diaphanous air in a whirl

  love the love turned girl

  I love the love turned joy

  love the love turned boy

  I love the love turned taste of sun

  love the love turned smell of rain

  I love the love turned death and birth

  love the love turned earth

  I love the love turned comfort when alone

  love the love turned stone

  I love the love of love

  and how I feel a song of love

  Longings

  Longings come grabbing me lately

  for a broad black belt,

  the widest white hat,

  pointed red shoes with

  impossible high heels,

  dazzing earrings, and silver

  strings of spreading beads

  brushing my waist.

  Longings come itching me

  to be much more leggy

  sitting slimly crosslegged

  having long fingernails.

  I look in the mirror. God!

  1 am small featured and so flat!

  I have dirty hands and fingernails.

  My hair cries out

  for total reconstruction-work.

  Longings hit me

  to change my weekends

  to see myself

  newly

  and totally unrecognisable.

  Earth and Beyond

  In shining silver suit streaked with gold,

  tall and thin person stood beside me.

 

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