The Wind Is Quiet Today

Morning breaks softly and slowly now
As the sun through the clouds meekly peeks..
Nothing at all seems to move about
Up here in this warm and quiet hut.
Inside there is peace and calm and solitude
Like it's been these past few weeks
Save for the wood fire that slowly burns
And the water boiling in the pot.
And I look out yonder
Towards the long and narrow creek
Just below the green, sloping hillock and
Over to where the old, rusting water mill,
Now hidden by the bushes, once churned.
Yet nothing stirs. I hear no one speak.
Even the wind is quiet today as life,
For a while, seems to be at a standstill.

The Colors of Her Life
With harsh tones
Of watercolor
She paints her life
Punctuated here and there
With sloppy dabs
And loose carefree strokes
Over the stretched canvas of her life.

Against a backdrop
Of pain and fear and hurt
She tells her story
A story that soils the colors
Once pure, fresh and vibrant
But now chapped and peeling
From the discolored canvas of her life.

Once a beautiful picture
Now cracked and fading
As she struggles daily..
A single mom
Deceived, sad, lonely and hurt
Yearning to add brighter colors
To the fading portrait of her life.

Not long ago
She painted a picture
With soft, soothing hues
Drawn with delicate, soft strokes
Each detail clearly etched
Clearly outlined and highlighted
Upon the canvas of life

But it's raining now
And the colors on the pictures..
Chapters of her life
Streak down slowly
In crooked lines
As the raindrops wash away
The faded colors of her life.

I Saw You Last Night
I saw you last night
Under the silvery moonlight
My arms around you
Whispering softly in your ears
Calming your fears.
You sobbed softly
As insects hissed nearby and
I gently wiped away your tears.

I held you lovingly
As the moon moved silently
Across the starry night
And an owl hooted on high
Among the branches.
I felt your throbbing heart
As your chest heaved
With every measured painful sigh.

I kissed you slowly
Enjoying every single moment
Under the twinkling stars
As we clutched unto each other
Too scared to let go.
We said nothing for a while
But stood still in the night
Allowing our minds to wonder.

But you're gone today
I see not one trace of you.
I keep yearning to hold you
But you can't be found.
I stretch out my arms
But no one embraces me.
The moon no longer shines brightly
For you no longer come around.

I was only dreaming
Dreaming of the moments
We shared beneath the branches
Of the giant palm tree
Or as the moonlight glistened
On the water while we strolled
Along the sandy shore
Of the silvery Caribbean Sea.

Yea I was only dreaming
I wish I still were asleep
For it pains to lose you
It pains so much to see you go.
Yet I still hear the words
You whispered when we parted ways
I still taste the tears you shed
Beneath the soft moonlight glow.

Cricket
The panorama of colors, dresses and parasols
Lend beauty and setting to the surroundings.
Men, women, boys and girls,
Ticket buyers and stowaways
Snuggle into wooden stands
And along the ropes on the boundary lines.

Cheers, whistles, clapping
As the crowd greet their heroes.
It's cricket! Lovely cricket!
Tension and excitement
Swaying saman trees bend and squeak;
Radios blare
Bottles of rum
Are poured down throats
As the sun's rays sip through a mass of dark clouds.

The bowler paces, breaking into a run
His long legs covering ground easily
As he heads towards the batsman.
He jumps and delivers.
The batsman glances
And the shining red sphere flies off the middle of the willow.

A chase begins, but it's useless
As smooth leather races to the boundary lines.
More whistles and cheers, this time thunderous and deafening.
The drums beat in approval
And more spirits are drained down throats.
Parasols wave.
It's cricket man! Lovely cricket!

Deserter's Cry
I miss you
In the mornings
When the raindrops drown the roses
Their fragrance perfuming the air.
I cry alone for
I miss your love, your warmth, understanding and care.

I miss you
In the quiet evenings
When the moon glistens atop the palm fronds
Swaying briskly in the night
While the insects
Hiss their soft, haunting tunes 'neath rotting leaves.

I miss you.
I miss your warm embrace
And the feel of your fingers cuddling my body.
Your gentle, soothing touch;
Expressions of our love
And your sweet voice, whispering softly in my ear.

Like a castaway
On a lonely desert island
I remember you once again sweet one
And the thought of your warm tender lips
Pressed against mine.
I remember you today as my heart sadly grieves

Until Tomorrow
The gentle night breeze
Sweeps over the small sandy village
While the strums of a guitar
Resound somewhere as
Young voices in discordant notes
Chant a local folk song.

Flickers from kerosene lamps
Sip lazily through
Curtained windows and doors
Softly kissing the glistening branches
Of the palm leaves
Growing tall and strong.

On the shore the sea
Sings herself a song
As she slams against the moss covered rocks.
A pantless little boy runs to the water's edge
As the white-laced waves
Rush in and disappear in the dark.

The village grows quiet as
The guitar's throbbing beat
And the voices finally cease.
The silence takes over
Until tomorrow
When they will all be back.

***********************
Giftus John is from Dominica but presently reside in Union, NJ. He recently published his third book of poems entitled The Island Man Sings His Song. Other books published were The Dawn and Words In the Quiet Moments. He is presently working on a collection of Caribbean short stories which he hopes to have published in 2003. Check him out at http://www.geocities.com/caswen79/index.html