Best Bahamian Poems
Pigs that swim the Caribbean aren't just silly rumors,
Polly is just such a pig, from the island of Exumas ...
Oh, Polly loves the water so, her family loves it, too,
Always tepid, crystal clear, and bright Bahamian blue.
It may seem quite unusual, for swine to EVER swim,
Stranger still, what Polly does as day is growing dim.
Tho' she loves the water, her favorite thing's the sky,
Yes, Polly has a special gift, as she knows how to FLY!
She tries to keep it quiet, not upstage her family's act,
For many are the tourists that swimming pigs attract.
She always waits until the sun is far 'neath the horizon,
A canopy of midnite stars is the sky that Polly flies in.
Her favorite time to fly is when the moon is full and pale,
The Caribbean breezes are what curl her piglet tail ...
Winging 'neath the Milky Way, riding moonbeams, bright,
Spinning with a loop-the-loop, doing pirouettes in-flight.
To dive and tickle wave-tops and make her hoof-trails glow,
To Hop from cloud to puffy cloud - count islands far below.
Her family thinks she's "flighty", and rather out-of-hand
But any pig who doesn't fly, isn't apt to understand ...
She loves to be with family and friends upon the beach,
But Polly's home is with the sky, soaring reach-to-reach.
So, if you someday make that trip to Polly's native isle ...
Find a hammock, rest your feet, and watch the sky a while.
You may not catch her flying, very few have had the thrill,
But if you're patient and you're lucky, WHEN PIGS FLY ...
Perhaps you will!
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Your Choice Light Verse (Wit, Humor, Wordplay, Puns)" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Honoring Dr Seuss" Poetry Contest, Michelle Faulkner, Judge & Sponsor.
She walked along the warm and salty beaches of a Bahamian dream, while the radiance of the suns kiss danced on her honey baked skin quickly painting a caramel hue of beauty. She illustrated the kind of beauty that his wonderings were just surreal of the real queen he crowned. She was not the usual epitome of the beholder, but in his eyes, she permeated his soul that soaked through every space once filled with fantasies of melancholy that were nightmares of a dream. She restored his happiness that was void but had been resurfaced by her glorious existence.
Now he did not quite showcase the handsomeness of the handsome but in her eyes he caught the salty streams that walked down her face many times but now exhibiting hope of despairs fear of joy and peace of a piece of his lost but resuscitated heart. With future wonderings, they are their personal personnel of the task, job hired by the almighty of heavenly white without any shades of pink slips between iridescent fingers entangled as one beautiful piece of lace that laces their hearts. Their destiny is only determined by an infinite possibility of infinity that may be…or not.
Against the odds, among the brave, his class was not defined by race
Talent can never be confined by color, race, nor faith, or time
He climbed his way with dignity within a world of bigotry,
and found acclaim, while making waves, when racial boundaries
fanned the flames
He earned a place in history
He raised the bar, and paved the road. He played each part with brilliancy
He bore the load and carved a path, with courage and humility
In a racist world, he earned respect, where few before had found a way
He crawled inside each role he played, and gave them life, from deep within
He wore the skin of many men, with a courageous, calm insistence
One early role, that stirred the pot, was a plot pledged to his love's fair skin
Yes! Shocking some!!.....But soon he'd find, applause for wedging understanding
A cause that spiraled racial growth, and better yet, acceptance
Another role where deadlocked chains, with ankles bound, two fugitives
while on the run, we cheered them on........and viewers too, unlocked old ways
"To Sir, With Love" above, beyond, his art would teach us how to change
"Mister Tibbs!!"........he said it clear!!....."Don't call me BOY! Don't you dare!"
We believed in what we heard, courageous rage, that we could cheer!
He sang with nuns while we clapped hands.......they built a church in desert sand
He won awards for gentle grace, and won a place in history
He warmed the screen with soul and truth, and paved the way for striving youth
who want to be a legend too, be it black or white or green or blue
Bahamian bred, Defiant One, Ambassador, Freedom's reward
Against all odds, he logged his time, to change the tide of narrow minds
A winsome smile, with deeper lines, that swayed the Lillies of the Field...
He was a fugitive against a time, when racial tones were bound by chains
____________________________________________________
Born in a country that is a paradise,
Free to worship God as we please,
Free to express our mind by any means,
Determined to foster democracy for all.
Taught the value 'everyone counts',
No matter what creed, color, or race,
Lending a hand is what we are about,
Living at peace with neighborly love.
Enjoying our rich, unique, and diverse culture,
Feasting on its smorgasbord of aphrodisiac delights,
Possessing a rhythm that can not be beaten,
Pulsating sounds of goatskin drums evoking dance.
Learned from our forefathers the wisdom of life,
Practice dedication, sacrifice, and courage with love,
Is the key to open doors which leads to success,
Who am I? Bahamian, that is who I am.
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who pledges loyalty
to put Bahama land from the time
she was conceived out of the womb
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who sheds the blood
of gold, black and aquamarine
straight from her veins
as she wakes up each morning
to the pulsing beat of Goombay drums
and cowbell singing in her ears
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who is a true cultural icon
always clothed in either Androsia Print
a costume of cardboard and crepe paper
or gold, black and aquamarine attire
from head to toe
Miss Bahamian Culture
a woman who is a pure nationalist
who always remember where her navel string was buried
in her place of birth and tropical sanctuary
regardless of where she travels in the world
whether it be in Miami, Cuba, Japan or Vancouver
The bouncing beat
Of merengue music
At the beach bar pulses
Across the Bahamian bay
On a mellow breeze,
Calling to the palms
As they sway their arms
To the night rhythm,
Inviting them into a dance
With the full blue beams
That tiptoe across the dark water
Eager to step onto the white expanse
Lit by the bright disco ball overhead
The Bahama Islands, our tropical paradise
the apple in eyes of the Caribbean
the place of my birth
like the planet Saturn camouflaged
in sun, sand and sea!
The Bahama Islands, our tropical paradise
the archipelago we all love
from Grand Bahama,
Abaco, Exuma to Inagua
a sanctuary where summer vacations
and island hopping are endless!
There is an abundance of activity
for Bahamians and tourists can all enjoy
Junkanoo, Goombay Fest and Pineapple Fest
buying Androsia Print
and scuba diving in The Dean's Blue Hole!
The Bahama Islands, our tropical paradise
I'm very proud to be a loyal Bahamian
with your balmy coconut trees
and your tropical white sandy beaches
you are God's gift to the tourism industry!
This is not Miami, the real site
of the sea grape. This is a wannabe--
a biker town, a speedway town. Not
the fabled city of Dream Whip clouds
expressed into a flawless sky. Not
the cool Technicolor dawn when an aging
chick like me could still do her morning
run on Collins, come back home
to the high rise on the Intercoastal,
where in the mirrored lobby,
retirees lined up in their wheelchairs
along a wall to socialize, see
who comes and goes.
Here, in this faux paradise on a Friday,
morning mass is celebrated in anything but
Ordinary Time by a Bahamian priest in
a chasuble the color of winter rye. There are
no flowers anywhere, only trailing tropicals;
a graceful spider plant with its dangling
tentacles. An acolyte brings sacramental vessels
on a tray, as if to dinner in his own home
to an altar covered with a simple tablecloth.
Simplicity...in the elaborate setting of
the Saint John Basilica, Daytona Beach.
The real home of the sea grape
with its leaves like tennis table paddles
is where a husband hospitalized in Mia
with a failing heart valve lay in
the pre-surgery ICU fighting for breath
as an insensitive nurse brought food
on a tray no way he could eat.
The sea grape is a hardy tree
that reaches for the heights. My son
in Halifax Hospital is like that: a survivor
of surgery for a metal hip to replace
the one that failed. Bones---
nemesis of our family, meant to last
but do not. Unlike the sea grape
whose limbs grown longer,
stronger. Fail not.
Sailboats at Regatta
bob and weave
play and sway
like feathers on the currents of the air
on a springtime morning.
Hand carved champions of the sea
engineered to outsail some other
brothers, friends and fathers all aboard
more than ready.
Hoing through the motions
open ocean bound
toward a blue horizon
and fearless - full of faith, only
in what wind may take them far, fast
as cheerful souls on shore
say goodbye.
- a poem by Hendrith Vanlon Smith Jr
I'm a high strung girl
From two different worlds
Fiery and passionate
That's my Cuban one
Sassy and mischievous
The Bahamian sun
Guys call me opinionated
But I'm just liberated!
I'm a nice person
Once you get to know me
Few though, ever see me clearly
A "sarcastic jerk" they say
They're lucky that I turn and walk away
"Vengeance is God's"
I mumble
If I were you I'd stumble
I speak my mind
Don't keep it all inside
Sorry if you find
That troubling
The truth hurts
That's what's worst
But you see
Sometimes they respect me
After all, isn't honesty the best policy?
Now mind you it's rare
Not everyone gets my charming flare
But it's the ones that do
That I care for too
And if it's any comfort to you
I think it's quite uncouth
To never tell the truth!
I am
a believer in the gospel of Jesus Christ
a redeemed child of The King
an enthusiast of end time prophecies
a patriotic Bahamian
a lover of Rake and Scrape, Junkanoo, Goombay and Calypso
a September baby
a beach lover
an ocean lover
a nature addict
an environmentalist
a lover of coconuts
a tour guide
a time traveler
a sports fan
a poetess
a storyteller
a nature photographer
a comedian
an innovator
a philosopher
an artistic genius
and a tourism enthusiast
PACHY ,PACHY PACHYDERM
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I own a little ranchette, ftve acres, more or less
With a two storey colonial, gorgeously dressed
With a wrap around balcony on the second floor
With a large rose garden. Who could ask for more?
Green Bahamian shutters, with walls oyster white
The ultimate luxury for any upscale suburbanite
Did I mention the pool, with a three meter board
Or the alpine garage, where my two cars are stored
The manicured lawns and evenly trimmed hedges
A small pond, washed stones, over hanging ledges
A pure white gazebo in a french colonial style
Encircled by interlocked magenta colored tile
Near the corner there’s hundred year old elm tree
Only thing missing is someone to share this with me
An Evening In Guanima
Bahamian Anthology
West Indian Poetry
Climbing Clouds
Longman Atlas
Welcome To The Bahamas
Island Boy
The Pearl
Moby Dick
Old Man and The Sea
Out Island Doctor
Devotions For The Beach
Bahamas In Black and White
Island of The Blue Dolphins
Chicken Soup For The Beach Lovers
and Ocean Lovers Soul
I love the adventures
of an underwater library
They call me the poetic master
a genius storyteller
writing poetry
channels the inner Frankenstein in me
with a simple press of a key
in each rhyme and stanza:
I can craft a lucid love story
into a dynamic Romeo and Juliet tale!
I can craft a smooth nature poem
into an oil painting of figurative language!
I can craft a facile poem of Bahamian nationalism
into a rejuvenated national anthem!
I can craft a plain tribute to persons I admire
like producing life like clones from rented samples of their DNA !
I can even craft a vague comedic poem
into a skit on Saturday Night Live !
Conch Sound
the garden of North Andros
the place where my father's navel string lay
The settlement sits on the vicinity of the waterfront
with old Bahamian vessels piloted by One Eyed Jacob
drifting across the sea winds
while it's calm blue hole calmly sleeps
on the pillow of the ocean
The land has a multitude of
healthy, growing trees and saplings
bearing mangoes, coco plums
coconuts and star fruits
the fruits of their labor
We can cross the creek near Johnson's Hill
with caution at low tide
passing through the tranquil kingdom
of the mangroves
red, white, black and buttonwood
to take a view of the old cemetery
the testing place of my ancestors from long ago
submerged in multitudes of sand grains