Keith D Trestrail Poet Lyric

Notes About The Poem

                    Jacqueline Trestrail 31 May 1932 ~ 20 July 1978

             Note: Native Amerindians of Trinidad believed hummingbirds 
             to be the souls of their ancestors.

             My mother used some wonderful expressions. 
             This piece contains some of them.

 

                                 

Listen to poem:

Flown and Gone in Gentle Grace

                       I
  “What in carnation is this?”
A voice I hear in my sleep of dreams
  and ghosts in the fog my only peace.
Early mornin’ frost chills and the rains
of discontent neither cleanse nor cease
                      II
   I hear “Caramba Chico!”
This room, it reminds me so of you.
  See the picture portrait, your silky hair,
your canvas brush stroke, your books
upon your shelf, your lonely empty chair
                      III
   So it was in older days
a dry Penfolds filled your sherry glass,
  and you of me did ask “is the table set?”.
Pelau or maybe ham ‘n hops to thankful fill
but you say “boy, tonight is macafouchette”
                       IV
  “Christopher Columbus!”
You loved among the flowers to tread,
  and so happily arrange the ones you took.
Sip sparklin’ shandy and light a cigarette,
write a letter home, read a paperback book 
                        V
  “Jeez-an-ages! For true?”
Into wet clay buried burden and pain
  in the garage pedallin' the potter’s wheel.
Alone in your spinnin’ dreams, dear mother,
I remember how contented it made you feel
                        VI
   And as the hour grew late
I would camp upon your bed a while.
  Lay beside you - feel your warm breath,
and watch you read but “Aye Caramba”
nigh was your own tale of fear and death
                        VII
  “Murderation! Is that so?”
Keeper, but not mine to keep for there
  was end of time but no end of sorrows.
Healer, but not ours to heal - now all we
have are yesterdays and no tomorrows
                        VIII
  “Jumping Jehoshaphat!”
Out of the land of the isle of Trinidad
  landed crates of tins and jars from home.
But your cup was filled by joy and life
and for a brief short time filled my own
                         IX
   Oh, how the music played,
closer and louder the beating drums -
  Calypso Rose the Calypso Queen to be.
When we at Carnival danced but the music
died and now I long for its sweet melody
                         X
 “Chuts!” Not hug, not kiss,
not gaze passed between us ever again
  but your spirit guide my broken wings chase.
Now I listen for the soul of a hummingbird
on the wind flown and gone in gentle grace


             Written: July 1993

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