climb between the spires
hot bare feet on sugar beach
touch the winding surf
opening and closing eyes
i’ve left earth for heaven’s peak
tour leaves the pitons ~
on the bus, bananas and
warm cassava bread
Derek Walcott of St Lucia
with Nobel prize for literature
Playwright&poet too
flowing words comeinto view
The elf seemed a bit off, the rest of us thought.
I think he’s Scandinavian, and pretty well sought.
Sought by the St. Lucia pageant, and maybe the bazaar.
So, he’s travelled a bunch, and he’s come very far.
The last time I saw him he was at fellowship hall.
They have a potluck - there is Nordic food for all.
The songs, the costumes, the fashion show is great.
Let’s pick up that elf and ask him to tell us straight.
What is he about? Who is his mom? And his Dad?
Will he share his Scandinavian secrets? Is he big and bad?
There he goes, someone said. Let’s catch him for luck.
We tried really hard, but he drove a truly fast truck.
My Dream Woman
Teresa this silky brown woman her breasts surged upward
seeking the heavens. Her hair, a cascade of ebony, reached
to the small of back and down there, between voluminous
thighs a honeycomb of lustre, not given freely to any bee
that passed her way.
She called me a blond Viking – I´m bald now- and we sailed to
St. Lucia to meet her parents. Wedding an no expenses were
spared, but then disaster struck and I had leave.
When I returned Teresa had married am engineer, and I said:
how come you could do this to me?
Her answer was simple, the wedding was set and If the groom
didn't show up, she would be a laughingstock on the Island...
and that is why I never married and still is a bachelor forever
looking for a woman like Teresa.
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