Best Bulrush Poems

There’s an old river course with beginning and end,
now the river runs straight without this river bend,
where the water is still and the reeds do grow strong.
New life has taken over in a billabong.

The mat rush is spreading replacing the sedge,
and old fallen gum trees...

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I have known:
   of wise detectives catching crooks
   of "Thought Police" revising books
   a shipwrecked family named Robinson
   of lion, witch, and wardrobe magic
   Heathcliff's heartbreak, sad and tragic
   books at Fahrenheit 451
...

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Nearing four hundred years
of living in captivity
Solar eclipse aspirations
has been my people’s enduring
ebony destiny
Almost four hundred years
of divided slavery:
chains seen and chains invisible
Hellish experience of double trouble
Self-congratulatory proclamations
of emancipated release 
were accompanied by chains slapped on the brain,
having a tighter squeeze
We were taught
when our alabaster...

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Walter Rodney
One evening leaving the bamboo hall
Stood me
Impaled with questions
Die me
To the dead colonial dreams
Wiped my tears of history
And showed me
Rastafari wading through the flood
Making new footprints on old mud
Giving Africa a second birth
Telling heaven to a carnal earth

All I had known before
Was umbilical lessons...

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SCENES OF A CARELESS BOYHOOD

The sound of water,escaping dams
willows,old rotten planks,slimy
posts,brickwork,old timber props
wet ditches,sedges and silvery nets
towpaths without gates,horses that
tow barges collared with crimson fringe.

Wheat and thatched cottages and cornstacks
grasses in flower,bogrush bulrush and
teazle,so tall.Bindweed,wild carrot,
hemlock in bloom,cow parsley,plantain 
bramble in June.
Poppy,thistle mallow
and hop.Purple heath,hills...

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Another day’s daylight is fading,
and the evening sunset is red;
in the pond at the end of the garden,
mating calls are starting to spread.

There’s a chorus of croaking and growling
from the suitors attracting a mate. 
The pond is a constant of ripples,
that dueling does tend to...

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In the year of a blood moon,
they assassinated a King
Triple six stamped shrunken head dolls,
with voodoo stitched mouths,
spit the hate bullets out
Brotherhood?      
Universal unity?
Visions of vanilla vanity splattered
Eye and eye shot thru — 
Red, white and blue glass hopes shattered
Ebony...

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In my dream, I sailed away
Over the tame waters of a tranquil bay
And landed in a magic isle
Never set foot before by anyone alive
A pleasant retreat of birds and beasts
Far removed from world’s dust and heat
A terra incognita with a magic spell
Hidden away at Nature’s...

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Offering yielded, yield back to the sovereign king
Devoted to duty, rise in the morning of its flame
Intellect's child, imprinted on Yahweh's soaring wing
Nurturer. natured with heaven's milk, sweet you came
Kindness kindled in hibiscus fire, passion against defeat
Wisdom that shall not from the incongruous retreat
Ambitious heart,...

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Cinnabar sentinels stand swaying in the mist of morning
through whispered hush and gentle breeze, like jewels , the leaves adorning.

Cool the streams in cresting waves float laurel barques of prizm hues,
washed past bulrush and fading ferns, through the bows of bending yews.

The fields of amber...

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Every ringside observer knows,
Truth don’t pull no punches
Getting down dirty in the earthy trenches,
reveal who the real
firmament workers are

When a pile of brown waste
is coming out of
somebody’s backdoor mouth
Don’t let ‘em try to shovel
those swarm of flies
thru the front door of your house

Avoid walking thru...

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In a damp, bluesy club in the middle of the reeds
Two amphibious musicians gathered in the weeds
Stringed instruments of driftwood and canary grass
Played with webbed fingers and a dash of southern sass
Two of them will face off to see who would headline
Swamp juice and flies...

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Gold fields expand softly in front of an eye of a dreamer
Sweet flag near bulrush ancient ballad will murmur
In the water dam is built by hard working beaver 
The all seeing falcon will fly through the sky that’s azure

The color of sunset as deep as...

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Not Damascus road but the burning bush
Or where the ships for Tarshish dock
Find me swaddled in the bulrush deep
With neither rod nor sight I shall hide
Only where you cleft your side for me
And as your witness pursue hell's Herod
Beyond my brimming wilderness, for I
To your...

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Late into night we sat together to plan the vacation
My husband mentioned an exotic hill station
To which he had been once and had a great time
But my sons preferred another spot fit for adventure

Having entered no amicable settlement
We decided to stop the discussion for the...

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