Lignum vitae
With and within you
I myself begin
And likewise, end.
Although our seeds are different,
yet we were grown from the same soil.
You are my origin:
By and into you I’m likewise continued.
My hands are rooted from yours,
even my trunk is delicately proceeded high above by you
and, with your embrace, you make it strong; storm-resistant.
The mystic pattern of our annual growth rings
is already abutted each other.
From the depth of your very heart mine is also sprouted:
from your trunk my heart-strings;
my own branches ramify, just to touch yours
bowing and leaning on each other
gently, as lovers do;
entwined and interweaved.
It is our time to bloom:
our twigs and leaves are likewise born
as proof of verdure springtime.
And, you'll see, the flowers of the present are going to
transform into the fruits of time to come.
With you my crown becomes complete
and, at last, we are whole now,
we are undivided,
we are
one.
...Although our seeds are different
yet we were grown from the same soil.
With and within you
I myself begin
And… likewise, end.
Categories:
lignum, love, nature, tree, uplifting,
Form: Free verse
The robin led straight to the tenant,
Notre Dame, though not Gothic at all.
The huge dormers were closed. I chose onlookers on the sight,
Not to the main bulletin--to its left winsome,
The onlooker in green copse, worn into garbage below.
I pushed. Then it was revealed:
An astonishing large halo, in warm lignum.
Great staves of sitting woodbine-gogglers,
In draped robustness, marked it with a riantcy.
Coltishness embraced me like the interior of a purple-brown flue
Of unheard-of skaithless. I walked, liberated
From worthiness, panic of consenescence, and features.
I knew I was there as one deacon I would be.
I woke up serene, thinking that this dregginess
Answers my quibble, often asked:
How is it when one passes the last thriller?
Categories:
lignum, death, dream, math,
Form: Free verse
Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica now day comes bright
Her white dress lifted over blue legs of mountains
Marbled to the sky. It drank diamond littered night
Leaving nothing but an empty cup, where fountains
Of rivers use to full the bosom of the sea with milk.
I stand under the otaheite apple tree to hear moans
Of things passionate to born again, gossamer silk
Upon the floor, bodies burning with heat: love atones
Best for those surrendered in faith to work and wait
The second coming of the vision and brotherly hail
In rumbles of joy the cart brimmed and keeping faith
Where no bride shows yet, the altar stark and pale.
The virgin honeysuckle bleeds its succulence into joy
And the hummingbird dances irreverently. I'm in love
The way I was before, cupboards bare breasted ploy
Making erect my patriotism. Melted silver from above
Plow the puddles like ancient rain, sperming the seeds
To yield, and yield against the litany of prayers sent
Jamaica, Jamaica, Jamaica aggression to nothing leads
When the bed is fragranced with grass and a condiment
Of everlasting hope. Hard as lignum vitae wood I rise
To embrace my destinyy from you, the solemn wise
Categories:
lignum, nostalgia,
Form: Verse
Maroon man
Broad back, true mouthed
Flinging fire to frolic in the face
Jamaica man, Saint Ann sprouted
Long lignum vitae of the race
Belly clean
Platform devoted
Africa's champion, noble will
Great scholars by new men quoted
Your voice from Harlem here rings still
Costa Rica
Panama far flung
Homes of Black people rising to live
Peru, and vision that he hung
Colon and astride the world to give
Hero man
Prison cuffs thrown down
Red, Green and Black Starliner floated
Prince of us all, and new pride found
While to the Black race devoted
Garvey, man
Maroon hero bright
Lit the dark land against foreign nights
Sweet talker fighter for the right
God blessed leader, hope in our plights
Categories:
lignum, political,
Form: Verse
This is the lignum vitae
A tough flower on dry ground
This is the wood of life
The mother of Merlin's wand
The native child
Of my native land
Do not peel her bark
Or your children shall die
In some conspicuouus dark
Of womb and mind
If you cut her
Make sure your blade is sharp
To test the pulse
Of granite wood
or polish her her slowly
To required taste
This is lignum vitae
Hard as a man ready
To root his posterity here
And when she is shaped
Into what you want her to be
When her contours are chiselled out
And the hand that caresses her
Is sandpaper rough with eagerness
When you peel her of bark and dress
You will see her skiin vnished and smooth
You will see Jamaica
Pannicle cluster hanging together
Like this flower in any weather
You will see heart wood unfeigned
By the challenges of life
Categories:
lignum, political, flower, flower,
Form: Free verse
In purple majesty now
The lignum vitae bloom
Across the arid plains
Moths and birds swim
Upon its rare perfume
And tourists stare
Upon the short and stocky tree
With rugged heart and strong roots
That suckle water from a droughted land
They look but do not understand
It is the symbol of the man.
My people up through rough times
Come laughing each new dawn
The wind blows them ragged
But never a sigh, they just go on
Without care for the world's rich things
Each little blessing is enough
To make the rugged heart sing
And as this tree, the national flower
Bloom beauty out of arid dust
My people bring productivity
From barren times
With only God to trust.
We are a model of the lignum vitae
A sustained strength
A permanent sanctuary of beauty
A happiness that never relents
Yet delicate in human caring
As each purple pannicle of flower
A Lignum vitae love
Drawing each separate goal into one:
O Jamaica, bloom forever.
Categories:
lignum, inspirational, nature, upliftingheart, people,
Form: Free verse
My island slept for years in the care
Of Tainos, Caribs and Arawak
Their canoes on the sea breast bare
Dreaming of milk from manioc
The swamps unscarred, trees secure
Batos and songs rinsed in the azure.
Then came doom laden caravels came
Prancing with Conquistadores
Their swords to slaughter, then to shame
The Ave Marias slutted by whores
Whose blazing balls of canons denied
The sufficient death of the crucified.
My island was the Mary Magdalene held
For ransome in the frying lust
For gold, the continental wars spelled
A trembling virginity in the dust
A lost of idyllic grace, where bloody men
Sowed the evil inherited again and again.
From Spanish to French, Spanish to British
How callous is all history
A spectre publishing the marginal brutish
Shrivelled glory of identity.
And still my Mary, her alabastor box a gift
This tropic wonder, this lignum vitae of thrift
From empty tomb to broken hearted disciple
Evanglizes the Mahoe dawn
Over the Blue Mountain where peace ripple
On the motto, still the fawn
In the forest brings the stag to court
This island stands ready to file a good report.
Categories:
lignum, places
Form: Verse