18 April 2010

Jamaican Country Woman

Feet, crusted, calloused, branch thick,
cinnamon sprinkled in youth;
born to bauxite’s blood red stain,
shining silver, rich white earth.

Body, bolstering twelve stones,
spread across a bent stalk spine
crudely hung with sagging limbs
beneath furrows of grizzled plaits.

Feet, scorched to fresh and fading scars,
dredged in fine grains of gray dust
for seasons of fiery intimacy
with char ash and smoldering coals.

Body, bound by bush to man and child,
spread wide for green bamboo,
cold sweat of icy planters punch,
painful birth of tar brushed sons.

Feet, crushing clay of generations ruts,
tree of labours hard worn track,
soles worn weary in servile path;
granite stone her soul consolation.
©Rasta Rascal


  1. What up Sebastian. I came over here from Justine's blog and now have become a follower. I love all things Rasta and Patois so it's pretty natural.

    I also love your poems. Simple is beautiful.

    Big up anna much respeck anna Babylon shall fall!

    Today's guest blogger is The Alliterative Allomorph!

  2. Tanks, man! Ting ena ting irie!

  3. I think the Patois is also spoken in New Orleans. Isn't that one of the colorful speaks in that area? I love readin' it an' listenin' to it. I'm not sure what the Rasta is, but I'd enjoy learning 'bout it. I truly enjoy all that You have written. Thanks.

    ~ Yaya