Best Ackee Poems
There is no place like home
I represent the black, green and gold.
Out of many, we are one people, driven to succeed
Global excellence is our only mission to achieve.
Reggae and dancehall are the rhythm and beat in our feet
Only champions are born here
Marley, Louise Bennett and Bolt are all homegrown.
With blood, sweat and tears, we work hard for our own …this is the Jamaican way.
I come from a great nation, with people of strength and determination. I am proud to call myself Jamaican.
We move to one love and drink our Jamaican white rum …this is the land we love.
The aroma of blue mountain coffee mixed in the morning air, the taste of ackee and saltfish with a little roast breadfruit are heavenly delights only a Jamaican can understand, the national dish of our homeland.
Look at our smiles we celebrate 60 years in grand style.
No matter where we are, yard or abroad with heads held high we are proud to call ourselves Jamaicans.
We celebrate Jamaica's 60 years of independence by re-igniting our greatness within all who call themselves Jamaicans.
"I am Jamaican"
Bring the fried ackee well dressed
In fresh herbs and spiced
Blend in codfish, like a breast
Flamed suckled, sufficed
My tongue to taste this
Dream of bliss.
Joy!
There you are
Red, black, and gold
And in the wind
Your dress uplifted, the tease
Of hungry men appetite
For I have looked up your tree
With jealousy
At birds beaking your breast
And felt my tongue
Its passion flaming
Longing to lick your fatness
Like a plate.
O so intimate are my desires
From the plump fruit in blushing skin
On beds of onions and pepper
Where you intertwine your nakedness
Around the fish stripped bare
And salt like a lover's sweat
I still your aroma can recall
From under the sheet
Provoking a child's pasion
On Christmas morning
And a boy's fancy forever
Through the hunger of manhood.
Let the bounty come again
I do not care
What rebellion brought you to my house
Nor what evil report
The tattlering tongue will tell
Of some benign toxins
With which you break the heart of men
And mothers
My table is your welcoming arms
I am addicted to your love
Night and noon or morning soon
When upon my bread you swoon
Or perhaps cajoling with that half ripe breadfruit
Whose glory is the fire
You stoke so tenderly my desire
And bring to climax
The beauty of the moon
A land that captures your attention;
encapsulate your thoughts of natural beauty and tranquility
A land of divine sunshine.
A place of seashores; a land with momentum water drop falls, exquisite white
sand beaches, winding rivers and streams.
Famous for its dazzling and enchanting creatures.
Picturesque greenery with blue mahoes, palms and coconut trees,
A place of much flora and fauna;
with dandelions, roses and lilies.
From plains to valleys to beautiful species of birds and bees.
A land with people,
people of different pride and creed.
Our rock solid history of hardship and struggle to a future of power and strength.
A land of much energy.
Our thrilling reggae music led by the great Bob Marley
Courtney Walsh, Merlene Ottey and Veronica Campbell legends of sport.
A land with rich food and culture
Oh can we forget our: rice and peas, jerk chicken and pork, boiled bananas,
ackee and saltfish and rundun.
This place that distinguishes us from the rest.
Yes! a land full of flavour our land Jamaica.
THOUGHTS OF A JAMAICAN CHRISTMAS
I remember Christmas of yesteryear
Of John Canoe dancing with fife and drum
Horsehead would approach, it was scary but fun
And Scrippy scrappy looked like a real bum
Of Christmas breeze and Poinsettias red
Mixed with white Euphorbias in the flower bed
A visit to Nathans for cloth to make dresses
And drop curls all round my head for my tresses
I liked going downtown on Christmas Eve
Where the bustle of King Street was hard to believe
With balloons and horns, and pretty hats to choose
And noisy rattles to drive our parents to booze
Vendors lined the sidewalks their offerings laid bare
There were shouts for attention but nothing to fear
Next came a visit to Dixon’s Toy Shop
Where I didn’t want the choosing to stop.
Christmas Carols rang out through the air
Then at church the next morning with voices clear
Back home we were greeted with eggnog, and were free
To open our presents that were under the tree
At Christmas dinner our relatives we’d see
As the Miller clan gathered it was exiting for me
There was exchange of gifts and the joy of giving
It was really a great and wonderful feeling
The food was a spread of delectable flavors
Of turkey, rice and peas, sweet potato and lamb
Ackee and salt fish, roast beef, salad and ham
And I just can’t forget the Cranberry jam
The variety was great, too many to mention
And the carving of the turkey got everyone’s attention
But best of all was the sorrel, Christmas pudding or cake
Which gave us kids a chance to get tipsy or flake.
At night we brought out our starlights and clappers
The boys would light thunderbolts and we would run backwards
These memories are happy, in my mind they will stay
And I blend them with those we are experiencing today.
Winsome Miller-Rowe
Little Island of Jamaica, birth place of Reggae
Always jolly, on a sunny day
Rastafari is the place where it all started
1948 on the Empire Wind rush most departed
Ackee & salt fish is the national dish
I love walking on the beach eating bread and fish
We’ve shown the world about the rough treatments we’ve been through
Half of the people have no idea or a clue
We’ve praised to everyone on Africa
Give thanks for the great land of Ethiopia
Music legacy from Bob Marley and peter tosh
Babylon way’s try to make us brainwash
Peace & Love to the wonderful place of Jamaica
Live humble and don’t be a troublemaker
Jamaica land we love!
One cold red stripe
Gi mi a white rum with a twist of lime
Wi celebrating Jamaica at 55
Miss Matti pass the jerk chicken and festival don't forget to put the ackee and saltfish pan the side
The music sweet mi hear Bob Marley chanting there's a natural mystic blowing through the air
In the distance Tony Rebel reminding us jus how Sweet Jamaica is ... Mi nah left yah
Roy Rayon give thanks and praises we are still alive... And Shaggy keeping us on a mission
Oh what a feeling... Jamaica at 55
Look on the track... Usain Bolt the fastest man on earth... Asafa Powell, Veronica Campbell and Shelly Ann Fraser-Pryce waving the flag shouting we are proud to be Jamaicans.
We still have our Miss World Lisa Hanna
Jamaica has won on every world stage... Jamaica to the world... We are 55
"Mi heart full fi see Mi people a celebrate 55" Miss Lou saluting us from heaven's gate
What a celebration... Jamaica at 55... We know we are unstoppable, just watch the ride
Andrew Holness and Peter Phillips shaking hands telling each other " mi born yah and mi nah lef yah... Mi come fi fix yah "
From Kingston to Mobay all Jamaicans celebrating in true Jamaican style... Jamaica at 55
Yuh remember Jody-Anne Maxwell, Spelling Champion ... We on top on every stage in life
There is no feeling better than being a Jamaican we rise to the occasion every time!
No matter where we are, we understand the love of our home land...sweet, sweet Jamaica
We drink our rum, we jump to dancehall and move to our reggae beat... we celebrate our culture and our people
We all understand the struggle but out of many we are one people... We are Jamaicans
.. Sweet... Sweet Jamaica at 55
Here we hid when we heard
A knock strongly---a sudden clattered upon the ground
Everyone indoor shrieked, trembled
Out... out..... we heard
They separated males from females
Sans bother how small we were
They guided us to the boot camp field
Gave us lives and death train. Rubbed ours and
Their faces with slurry that as dark as ackee seed
Handed each with weapons. To mamas males were living dead
1939th of september to1945th of september
The days were long gone, but still remember
Told us show mercy to whom fall by your way you are dead
Victory it our goal. Words of venom and
Drug infused made our heart to strong as harden wood
Mansions become ash by fingers tamped
Animate breathless by stabbed
Stick. Raise countries devoured by swallowing lips
May the old and youth of this and coming generations
Not experience such; the heroes and
Heroines that go to rest nurture as cradle in right hand.
An interview with a veteran who happens to a victim.
I am.
by Richard V Fraser
Who am I, I am Jamaican
I am the mix of African maroon, Scottish, Irish, German,English, Chinese and Indian
I am the flavour in the Jerk, the curry, the roast yam, the ackee and saltfish
I am the Mento, the Ska, the Roots the Rock the Reggae and the Dance hall
I am the sun, the sand, the trees and the breeze
I am the vibe in Negril, the splash in Mo-bay, the weekend in Ochie and the bashment in the Kingston town
I am the julie mango, the sweet sugar cane, the nice cool jelly coconut and the sweet but sour sop
I am the Marley, the Garvey, the Quarrie, Bolt and the Louise Bennett
I am the Harder they come, the Smile orange, the Dance hall Queen and the Shotas
I am the Black, the Green, the Gold
I am the Independent, the Emancipated
I am the Proud, I am Jamaican
Adjusting Appetizing Palates.
I have sampled the variety,
I am the one who has tasted life;
The one who has had a taste of life.
Rarely indulged in the main course-
Seldom a full meal-
I come hungry-
To leave satisfied...
I want more substance.
Sampled the world on wooden toothpicks.
I have had itty bits of everything.
Piecemeal offerings to try entice my loyalty.
Old ladies with new recipes passing
them around on trays in supermarkets of the world.
I come back for more free samples.
The more I have traveled the more
I have sampled life.
Moi-Moi- and peanut butter stew.
I have tasted life with different seasonings and spices -
Tried a variety of cultural dishes - Some bland, some spicy
Tried the soul food of each one's pride as
I swallowed mine.
I have never gained control of my soul.
It wandered with me sampling life on platters.
Now desirous of healing-fish soup.
I wanted more – Traveled;
Partook of more –
Tasting life's offerings from the - rich to the poor.
Drank out of Chrystal as well as tin cups.
I have eaten from Chinaware,
and drank from gourds,
I have supped on
Hors-d'oeuvre and canapes';
Inner-voices led me to hot rocks and tepees—
Sweat camps with medicinal potions.
Tasting life in places where strange
medicine men reside.
I have eaten rice in 2000 languages.
In Asian and Indian tongues.
I swapped collard greens for callaloo;
Then stepped up to taste breadfruit -
Filled up on Ackee and Saltfish a
Exotic palatable dish.
Though never full off of life –
Not gluttony statutes yet, I have done
more than get my “whistle wet"
Still, I am glad:
“Oh, how grateful to be alive”.
Able to sample the tender morsels
of appetizers so fine.
Even though I am a
Connoisseur of fine wine.
…and have enjoyed plenty
tidbits of earth’s great bounty--
In this life.
I have supped in the finest cuisines.
Treated royally as if I were a queen.
I have supped in mansions,
or sat, an ate under exotic trees;
Yet, there is nothing so satisfying-and no one abler.
As to be back in the hood, trying not to go berserk;
Waiting for a slice of Sweet Potato pie for dessert.
After getting my grub on, at Grandmas table.
I love food. Sometimes a little much!
Food for Thought
By Jan Beaumont ©?
Each country has food that they're known for
Their own local dish you might say
Some are delicious and some a bit strange
And some I'd just think 'oh no way!'
The Chinese of course have their dumplings
They love their pad thai in Bangkok
In Jamaica there's salt fish and ackee rice too
And most people like food from a wok.
They enjoy suckling pig in Korea
There are burgers in old USA
There's a prawn on the barbie in Aussie
And Italians eat pizza each day.
I have tried tasty frog's legs in Paris
But I didn't enjoy escargot
A tandoori chicken in Delhi's just fine
And black pudding in Scotland's a go!
I really enjoy a Greek salad
A hot bowl of pho in Saigon
Yakatori's a great way to eat in Japan
About food I could go on and on.
Of course there's roast beef in old Blighty
Consumed with a great Yorkshire pud
And smothered in gravy on Sundays
Could anything else be that good?
I love a nice tasty Welsh rarebit
In Canada they eat poutine
We live in one huge worldwide kitchen
I'm sure that you know what I mean.
But now we're back home in New Zealand
With our hangi, our pies, L&P,
Vogels bread and our great kiwi icecream
There is no place that I'd rather be!
Have you forgotten your native land, the days when our ancestors sweat and harvest?
crop with their hands, Jamaica our black ***** land
the name itself is a brand
Have you forgotten the Jamaican national bird, our charming doctor bird?
can you remember that national dish we call ackee and saltfish
out of many one people, Jamaica human race, a land, a wonderful place
where human beings express their smile on their happy face
Have you forgotten the national heroes who fought for us and thus who died
for us, can you remember this all, these seven national heroes and one heroine who
stood tall, although our country was small
these were the one's who made it remain still and not fall
The last sentence in the national anthem I shall recall
Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica land we love
created by the heavenly father above.
Demeter Edwards
I am.
by Richard V Fraser
Who am I?
I am the mix of African maroon, Scottish, Irish, German,English, Chinese and Indian
I am the flavour in the Jerk, the curry, the roast yam, the ackee and saltfish
I am the Mento, the Ska, the Roots the Rock the Reggae and the Dance hall
I am the sun, the sand, the trees and the breeze
I am the vibe in Negril, the splash in Mo-bay, the weekend in Ochie and the bashment in the Kingston town
I am the julie mango, the sweet sugar cane, the nice cool jelly coconut and the sweet but sour sop
I am the Marley, the Garvey, the Quarrie, Bolt and the Louise Bennett
I am the Harder they come, the Smile orange, the Dance hall Queen and the Shotas
I am the Black, the Green, the Gold
I am the Independent, the Emancipated
I am the Proud, I am Jamaican
EXPATRIATE…
(Apropos Soon Come)
Heard the chichi budo singing
in the banana walk; heard
the burro braying; and
the mongoose roaming the coop;
smelled the aroma of roast breadfruit,
ackee and salt fish; and
felt the icy cold air tease
the warmness of my body.
Then came the off-beat
pitter patter of raindrops falling
on the roof top, drowning away the dream:
washing me back to the shore of this distant reality.
Self imposed exile rivals
only that of being a refugee;
the thought eased by employment
of the more dignified term---expatriate.
Mocking Odysseus, we wander
the haphazard journey; sadly seeking
stolen ways back to the womb of our beginnings.
Digging deep down into the sacred screaming soul
of myself, I pray and implore almighty Jah---
mek mi not become a of Sisyphus:
Jesus, mi’a crave ‘ome.
The cock of day crow over johncrow mountain
Sun come bright
Like Jane and Louise shine eye girl
And light
Just drop from heaven like ripe breadfruit
I pull the darkness from my eyes
And look and see only one thing on my mind
Always like bulla cake and pear
Always like coconut run-down and corn dumpling
Always like bammy, fish and irishmoss
My heart hungry like a jackass groan
I love you ackee and slatfish
The culture like a hook in human flesh
Making genes only the limit of the mesh
I love you sweet potato pone,
Lord, I cry for a kiss, oxygen from a wish
You indelible in my head like a Christmas dish
But I groaning for something different
Something that no cock can crow away
Something the same night and day
Something smooth as otaheite apple juice
Tart as pineapple and sweet
It is my custard apple memory
A tropic fire in my bones
A writing I can't rub out
Indelible thoughts of you
Like cock crow clocking in my brain
A dream swimming in the delirum of pain
I love you like swallow love the rain
And here I am waiting for you
Long morning light
Here I am longing for you
To come online
And as the time goes away
The pain grow big like root
Dig up my bowels with wondering
Lean me on the crutch of constant praying
Indelible you
Indelible pain
Indelible prayer
Indelible love remain