We saw bloom at midday where dreams begun
Moon casting spell on tides, despite the sun.
We squanded you like pennies on the street
And did not know the price was adding up
To our misery and the barren table; defeat
For every tomorrow is the failure of today.
But do not blame the others so badly yet
For we did not, and cannot know our position
When we have no time and space, sweat
Was all we mark our hours by; the dry and wet.
And we who lost our name and tongue in
One passage, recalled only the deep within us
And could not stop the eye always looking in
Nor see the wind that pounded rock to dust.
Your genius is that you knew it all, and said
What we understood but could not remember
While howling hunger staggered in the head.
Still, you were such a great visionary leader;
And only trusted too much the sycophants. I
Think of you and light waters the desert eye.
Categories:
manley, people, political,
Form: Verse
I remember the morning when the flags flew
High over us, how we tumult in sweet chorus
"The people's flag is deepest red," and grew
Warm around you, like emancipation August
When we track Sam Sharp down the wet mountain
To pay with blood for what we could not keep.
I grew up a cargoed car in your tight train
I made bonds with my land, strong and deep
And loved him who for the Gleaner his satire
Wrote, and him who peeled our pulse polling
Views, sown deep, about time's history scarred
I remember the reggae king's sweet prophesying.
We confirmed with you our need to stand, we
Nor had done so well since Nanny led lines
Of my blood sires through bush for history
I remember some sat where the moon shines
Still on green guinea grass, and tongues
Warm as logwood fire lighting dark tales
From the past, and our imagination's lungs
Expanding 'til dreams were bulging sails
Categories:
manley, history, nostalgiasweet, sweet,
Form: Rhyme
Seductively symetrical in form and presence
She calls it Eve, I call it sepia political
Aroused motherhood of nation, a glamorous sense
Of identity, modern and yet mystical
Naked as a morning, smooth as silk dreams
She looks back, not histantly, nor curiously
Profiled the hidden breast, in streams
Of provocativeness, the right hand assertively
Shouldered on the fallen curtain of hair
Lefting hand coming down where the stare
Of vulgar eyes would fall, stripped of history
But not of dignity, the umbilical memory
Cradlles a lascivious eye against the dark skin
Woman bounteous with beginnings, sister, kin.
Edna Manley
Eve (Ceremonial Dance)
Edna Manley (1900 – 1987) studied art at Central St. Martins School of Art in London
alongside fellow sculptors Henry Moore and Barbara Hepworth. Her artistic career began by
sculpting clay models of animals but she made her reputation as a wood carver. During her
life she became known as the Mother of Jamaican Art, and claimed that it was in Jamaica
where she found both her subjects and materials. The sculpture 'Eve' (1929) was presented
to the Graves Art Gallery in Sheffield by the artist herself in 1937. .
Categories:
manley, politicalart, art,
Form: Ekphrasis