Jamaican Poetry: Independent Jamaica

Emancipation Park Kingston, Jamaica
Emancipation Park Kingston, Jamaica

By: Denise N. Fyffe.
Copyright © 2017, Denise N. Fyffe

1962 we were reborn an independent land
Lush green hills and brilliant aqua waters in the Caribbean span
The sun set on August 6th and we were birthed a new nation
Not a giant, but we had the beginnings, perseverance and culture to be one;
Free from dependence
Free to rise to international prominence
Free to decide the affairs of our people and land
Free to be dominant anywhere we put our hand;

Two cousins, two charismatic gentlemen
Stood tall, representing the people,
Leading in governance;
Manley and Bustamante were visionaries of their time
As they carried the Jamaican people from the holds of Britain
Opening our minds;
Our battles were fought by the brave and strong
The nation we are now is owed to six heroes and a heroine’s hand
Marcus, Busta, Manley and Sharp
Bogle, Nanny and George William are cemented in our hearts;

Since 1962, ten leaders have risen to the thrones of government

Tarrus Riley performs at Negril Escape Resorts

And now we are lead by the strength of a woman,
Who oversees our country’s development;
Bob Marley beseeched
Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery
His songs and words are one of Jamaica’s crowning glories;
In the four corners of the world we are well known
For producing conscious music that thrills many to the bone
Reggae, Dancehall, Kumina, Ska and Mento too
With soul renting lovers rock and Beres Hammond tunes
Rhythm and rhymes continue perpetually in time
With singers like Dennis, Freddie and Tarrus Riley exhilarating our minds;

In 50 years we have produced many visionaries
Spanning many genres and industries
Stamping their dominance
Rising to the forefront in our country;
Charles Hyatt, Oliver Samuels and Louise Bennet-Coverly
Professor Rex Nettleford, Rudolph Williams and Edna Manley
Masters of the arts, dance, acting and comedy
Bringing us laughs and stories of Anancy;

Whether it is football, netball, domino, cricket or chess
In 50 years, Jamaica has produced some of the best
One memory we will never forget
Is that of our Reggae Boys scoring goals in the World Cup football net;
Herb Mckenley and Merlene Ottey

Have been the beacon to our youths
Inspiring 100, 200, and 400 sprinters
With Usain Boltnow reigning with his gold Puma shoes;

English: Jamaica 4x100 m at the World Champion...

Michael Frater, Asafa Powell, and Yohan Blake have made us proud
With VCB, Melanie Walker, and Shelly-Ann Fraser waving our flag high
In front of millions of cheering fans and stadium crowds;

Jamaica at 50 stands as a strong, independent land
With lush green hills and brilliant aqua waters in the Caribbean span
Rolling valleys filled with lignum vitae flowers,
Humming birds and ackee trees
We are proud Jamaicans,
African, Indian, Chinese or Lebanese;
Full of flavor like the Pimento spice
Truly in Jamaica, a yah so nice
Diverse in culture, Diverse and strong
God Bless Jamaica, Independent Jamaica, fi wi small and sweet island.

Jamaican Poetry: Love, Slain


By: Denise N. Fyffe.
Copyright © 2017, Denise N. Fyffe

The breeze whips my hair like fall leaves
Covering my face
Covering my vision
Of you;
I turn
And look in the direction where you went
My heart moans and vent
As it already misses that deep musk
Lingering,
I smell you;
My eyes turn into water pumps
Newly tapped by hurt
As you desert
The love, you left here;
And I sigh
As I realize,
You will no longer be at my side;
And I sigh
As I realize
I won’t ever see that dimple
Near your right eye;
My finger creeps to secure a hold of the door frame
Newly named,
The place where our love was slain;
My knees shift as the shakes overtake them
And then, my backbone bends
And sounds unheard rip from my heart
Ricocheting,
Off tongue and throat walls;
And I cry,
Silently I cry
As I realize
You will no longer be at my side;
And I cry
As I realize
I won’t ever see that dimple
Near your right eye;

I cry, and I cry
And my love screams,
Don’t kill what’s left within me;
And I cry, and the shadow of you
Now lives within me;

Water swells and wells at the corner of my eyes
As I remember, my favorite memory before you left
That of me looking into your honey butter eyes
And I cry.

Jamaican Poetry: Books by Poetess Denise N. Fyffe


Check out and Purchase Books by Poetess Denise N. Fyffe

Sensuous One

Sensuous One

By Denise N. Fyffe

eBook (ePub): $5.99
Paperback: $12.99
    
Sensual poetic expressions about romance, love and infatuation

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JPPC front cover

Jamaican Pebbles: Poetry Pocketbook

By Denise N. Fyffe

Paperback: $28.50
    
Poetic expressions and gems of wisdom about life, love and social issues.

PURCHASE HERE

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Jamaican Honey and Sauce By Denise ‘Defy’ Fyffe

Paperback: £6.44
Ships in 3–5 business days
    
Jamaican Honey and Sauce is love poetry for every woman’s enjoyment and every man’s delight. From petty crushes to the moans of the broken hearted. From private fantasies to the…More >

PURCHASE HERE

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Jamaican Honey and Sauce By Denise ‘Defy’ Fyffe

Download immediately.
    
Jamaican Honey and Sauce is love poetry for every woman’s enjoyment and every man’s delight. From petty crushes to the moans of the broken hearted. From private fantasies to the rumblings of true… More >
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Jamaican Honey and Sauce By Denise ‘Defy’ Fyffe

eBook (PDF): £1.42
DOWNLOAD IMMEDIATELY.
    
Jamaican Honey and Sauce is love poetry for every woman’s enjoyment and every man’s delight. From petty crushes to the moans of the broken hearted. From private fantasies to the…More >

PURCHASE HERE

Jamaican Poetry: Hold My End


By: Defy.
Copyright © 2010, defy, Denise Fyffe

I tried so hard to hold my end
I tried so hard, till the very end;

Reflecting on the things that came and past
Reflecting on a situation that did not last;

Looking in, looking out,
Things now looking much better;

Remembering when we would pretend
That there was more, than what we wanted to defend;
How time has brought light to your lies
Now time demands that you apologize;

Office space, is office laced
With guilty faces that now leaves no trace;
No trace of the damage
No memory of staring down the barrel of a gun;
People come and people go;
Hypocrites befriend,
Though their friends don’t know;

Soon in time, you will be caught in a lie
Soon in time you will have to apologize;

I ducked and weaved
As you tried to fly like a bird and sting like a bee
But I too studied Muhammad Ali
I took the best and left you nothing but cool Christian breeze;

Every day was like the summer sun scorching my hide
These values made me want to run and hide
But I stood firm and made my anger burn
Until Jesus came and said, ‘child I already took your turn’;

I tried to hold on to the very end,
I tried to be like Daniel in the lion’s den;

Motivated by stress, everyday
Determined I was to keep my pace;

Office lies and office spies
Office cheaters, now that office has died;

It’s a pity everyone had to pay
For the silly games you had gone and played;
Office causalities spread many,
But causalities bounce back and resuscitate
Many fell but didn’t stay dead
While others drowned in your manipulative well;

I tried to hold on to the very end,
I tried to stop the flow of this ink filled pen;

The motivation spews from me
To write the evil I endured professionally;

Office space is office laced
With hypocrites and villains
Who didn’t know your true face;
I thank God he saved me and filled me with his love
Though I fought the thoughts of ‘going postal’
Instead of basking in his love;

I tried to hold on to the very end
While I sat, trapped like a tiger in a snake filled den;

I tried to see the roses among thieves
I tried to make lasting and good memories;

I held on to the very end,
Now I can stem the words that flow from mind to pen.

Jamaican Poetry: Mama Portia and Dean


By: Denise N. Fyffe.
Copyright © 2012, Poetess Defy, Denise N. Fyffe

Dean met a woman he had never before seen,
One wid a vision and a rising dream.
He thought he would pay har a devastating trip;
Taking his friends Chaos and Gusty Winds,
Just for the fun of it.

Mama Portia sey ‘God, what must I do, 
Some a mi picknie dem caan handle another hurricane,
Especially so soon’;
God sey ‘stand firm and watch mi tonight,
A gwaan gi yuh di strength to fight.’

Mama Portia and some of her picknie pray,
Dat devastation would not touch them dat day;
Everybody huddled and prepared for the fight,
Some took a quick peep wid dem TV camera,
To see who would lose that night.

Dean looked on and crept near,
Mama Portia sey bwoy yuh not welcome here.
She tell har brothers be prepared for any ‘Emergency’.
I want tings in place as a contingency.

Di fight get serious bout 3 di day,
Chaos and Gusty wind got a head start,
Dem nearly tear St. Thomas apart.
Caribbean Terrace was battered and bruised,
Portland Cottage cry flood, when it look like dem soon loose.

God stepped in and sey ‘ Enough is enough’;
Dean started to howl like him waan play tough.
Him lick off couple roof and tangle some line,
Him sey ‘God now is my time.
I not changing course.
I having Jamaica today,
Now is Chaos time wid wind and rain.

God raised his hand,
Dean was forced to obey,
He crept on South, at the end of the day.
Mama Portia, jumped up God’s praises a sing;
Yuh si why yuh mus believe inna God fi everyting

Har brothers kept watch for any ‘Emergency’,
In case Looting pass through to take advantage a wi.
Some worked hard to bring wata and light;
Digi and CW competed fah continual cell coverage dat night.

Mama Portia stayed her course,
She sey wid God, yuh caan go wrong.
Though times rough and di trek hard,
She always she, God must be first inna fi har yaad.
Ah yah yi.

Leroy Smart – Sugar My Coffee


Jamaican Reggae Artiste, Leroy Smart

I was introduced to Leroy Smart about 20 years ago by my then room mate Rich, aka Prime Mundo. He had a stash of really good Jamaican pressed LPs in his closet, one of them was a Leroy Smart record. He told me a story of going to see Leroy perform sometime in the 80′s with a mutual friend in West Philly. They were the only white boys in the joint, and when the lights went down, the patrons who were dressed to the nines, let the Collie flow. Now these guys were in tees and jeans, and afraid they would get caught lighting a joint in the place. Imagine? Relieved, I believe the smoked said joint and that the Leroy Smart show was one of the best Reggae shows he has seen live. If not for the atmosphere, but for Smart’s music and presence as well. Here’s something I dug up a while ago on the cheap. It’s Leroy Smart with “Sugar My Coffee” from his 1979 Lp Let Everyman Survive on G.G.’s/ Hit Records.

Flea Market Funk

I was introduced to Leroy Smart about 20 years ago by my then room mate Rich, aka Prime Mundo. He had a stash of really good Jamaican pressed LPs in his closet, one of them was a Leroy Smart record. He told me a story of going to see Leroy perform sometime in the 80’s with a mutual friend in West Philly. They were the only white boys in the joint, and when the lights went down, the patrons who were dressed to the nines, let the Collie flow. Now these guys were in tees and jeans, and afraid they would get caught lighting a joint in the place. Imagine? Relieved, I believe the smoked said joint and that the Leroy Smart show was one of the best Reggae shows he has seen live. If not for the atmosphere, but for Smart’s music and presence as well. Here’s something I…

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Our Jamaica 50 Song….What the Hell Is It?


Our Jamaica 50 Song….What the Hell Is It?.