The ancestors still toil within me Their rough dark hands hold the cutlasses labouring in the fields of my mind clearing away the weed and bush of negative thinking, before burning them and then digging holes where they will plant fresh thought suckers like cane tops that they will manure as the thoughts grow through minutes as long as the twelve to fifteen months that it takes for the hard sweet grass to mature.

They set the field afire, burning

Continue reading Inner Plantation

by Kerri-Ann M. Smith

Shi used to seh

Children should be seen

And never heard;

And pickeney fi min’ dem business.

And wi used to shut wi mout

And listen.

Mama did love wi!

Shi taught us wisdom and patience

Shi used to seh

Come tan up inna di kitchen

And watch what mi doin

One day it aggo come een handy.

And wi used to push up wi mout

And watch and learn.

Mama did love wi!

Shi

Continue reading A Jamaican Child?s Mother’s Day Tribute

by: Kerri-Ann M. Smith

Mi come ah dis ya country, Weh life jus ruff an? hard. Sometimes mi jus waan pack mi bag An? goh back ah mi yaad.

Mi miss mi granny cornmeal pone, And mi good Sunday dinner feast. Mi tiyad fi nyam left ova food Lawd, dis ya foreign is a beast!

Mi long fi eat a Easta bun And piece ah di yellow cheese. Mi long fi jus siddung outta door And enjoy some nice cool

Continue reading Nostalgia