Dreams, memories and hopes

Do you remember when you were young?
Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
Great wall of China length of dreams and hopes

Have you forgotten those times you smiled?
Those times excitement lit up you eyes
As you thought about the great adventures you would have once you’re older

‘I can’t wait to grow up’you said
‘When I’m older, I’ll do this and that and that’ you squealed
‘I will be married by this age’ you proudly proclaimed

What about when you were filled with hope?
That the best is yet to come
And with age comes endless possibilities

I remember it all
And I hope you do too
This is the inner drive to keep you going
The motion needed to keep pressing forward

Find your momentum
Keep your hopes alive
Take it one day at a time
And never forget that your younger self had big plans for you
Don’t let them down
It is not too late

I’ll Remember

Today I’ll just lay my head on the pillows and remember you
Remember us as we were in the beginning
All bright-eyed and bushy-tailed
Excited for the prospect of a new us
A great union of prosper.

I will rest my head on the hearth and think of the middle
Riddled with sweet messages, love notes and special gifts
Times and moments of splendour
A life of promise and endearing hope urging us
Brought to us as a gift from God.

I’ll stare into the stars and follow our journey together
Follow our love as it blossomed in the season
Our sweet romance fading gently into the night
For it is the end my love
End of our dreams together
Our matrimonial walk down the proverbial aisle

Tonight is where we part my love
Separated not by a physical distance but by moments of lost time
Separated by words unspoken and memories forgotten
We part and depart from our simple selves
Urging forward our distinct ways
Lost in the fabric of time
As we move forward to our destinies

Slow Dance

I finally completed reading The 4-Hour Work Week by Tim Ferriss. Oh yeah another December goal completed. The main focus of the book is to enlighten others about the possible of living like the nouveau-riche rather being stuck in the perpetual rat race and ultimate retirement. Though, I won't share the details of the book with you (I assure you that it's a good read and you should definitely check it out), I do want to share with you a little tidbit that I saw in the book. It's an email the author received from a terminally-ill girl in a New York hospital and he thought it fit to share it in his book and I want to share it with you. It's called Slow Dance. I absolutely love reflective reminders. They seem to nudge me in the direction that rekindles my spark and re-energizes my life. I'm actually thinking of printing it out and placing it somewhere on my wall to remind me about experiencing life rather than just being the living dead. To explore life, rather living on just an uncharted page. And to just appreciate it all more.

SLOW DANCE

Have you ever watched kids

On a merry-go-round?

Or listened to the rain

Slapping on the ground?

Ever followed a butterfly's erratic flight?

Or gazed at the sun into the fading night? 

You better slow down. 

Don't dance too fast.

Time is short. 

The music won't last. 

Do you run through each day

On the fly? 

When you ask: How are you? 

Do you hear the reply? 

When the day is done,

do you lie in your bed

With the next hundred chores 

Running through your head? 

You'd better slow down

Don't dance too fast. 

Time is short.

The music won't last. 

Ever told your child 

We'll do it tomorrow? 

And in your haste, Not 

see his sorrow? 

Ever lost touch, 

Let a good friendship die, 

Cause you never had time, 

To call and say "Hi"? 

You'd better slow down. 

Don't dance so fast. 

Time is short. 

The music won't last. 

When you run so fast to get somewhere, 

You miss half the fun of getting there. 

When you worry and hurry through your day, 

It is like an unopened gift thrown away.

Life is not a race. 

Do take it slower. 

Hear the music, 

Before the song is over.

Poetry Wednesdays- Waltzing in the park

Waltzing in the park

We strutted

And we sauntered

Hand in hand

Two souls with a heavenly view

He took my hands in his and rubbed them together

Planting a gentle kiss

Before he closed the distance between us

Pulling me closer

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4

We swayed and rocked

Moving effortlessly to silent songs of the earth

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4

We glided across the park

Graceful swans through the fountains

 I could feel the pulsation of our heartbeats

The timed rhythms of our breaths

The sweet scent of our love

Twirling into circles of passion

The crick crack tango

The Vietnamese waltz

The swingers rock

The Cuban salsa

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4

We sauntered our feet

Forever trapped in our own world

1 2 3 4

1 2 3 4

We danced in the park

We danced in the park

Poetry Wednesdays

I absolutely love writing poetry. It's one of the best ways that I know how to express myself, along with dancing. Being as closed off as I am sometimes the spoken word evades me and I'm left with a flood of unspoken lingual exchanges and a deep need to be released. I think, therefore I write. This is what keeps me passionate and captivated. This is what keeps me smiling and thoughtful. 

Read the poem, follow the blog and leave a comment. Spread the word and tell your friends! The journey with me is sure to be amazing!!!!

Therefore, without further ado..........from my mind  to your eyes............I introduce to you my latest poem:

Flower Child

by: Ornella Green

Releasing my inner gypsy

Flower child, Minx, and Imp

Finding all my flaws and imperfections to love

Nurturing my roaming spirit

Let's dance in the rain

Soaking away our trembling fears

Whispering our darkest desires

Take a taste of the eternal flame of desire

Drenched in the inferno of truth

Whereforth, lies my inner beast

Inner demons,

Subliminal sins,

Whereforth, 

My inhibitions escape

Briskly into the night

Shining on the dampened sky

The sun smiles at me in the newness of the air

Combating with the shadows for full control of my being

Where are my ruby red slippers?

My yellow brick road?

Find my tin man a heart

Give courage to the lion 

And a brain to the scarecrow

Dare I dream of going home

To my ladled bed of love and pleasure 

To discover the armoured knight

Awaiting my presence

Le muse despaire

I've long since forgotten the sound of your voice
The sound it makes when you're excited or when you've finally solved a problem
Your groans, groans and sounds of glee
The smile that drips off your lips
And the laughter that roars when someone tells a joke

To hear the 'thump thump thump' of your heart and to understand it means life
To see the motions as the wheels turn to propel us forward
Feel the cool whisper of your breath on my arms
The soft caress of you skin
And the gentle touch of your finger tips

Have you left me my dear?
Departed me in such sweet sorrow
Tiny steps ushered through the door
Have you left me my dear?
To travel the road alone

The journey less taken
A solitary path to solitude
Have you forsaken me my dear?
Departed in such sweet regret
Away from the success of me

Have you lost yourself?
Left me to fend the spirits alone
To nurture the mind
To enrich the body
On a single plane

Have you abandoned me?
Lola,
Where does your ego lie?
Shall I truly be left without thee?
The muse that serves my guide

Whereforth?
Shall thou?
Are thouest?
Answer my calls
Surrender to my pleas

Pride

Hey loves,

Guess who has been a busy bee? *raises hand* "Me! Me!" Yes my loves, the med life has taken over and it's getting intense. So much so that I just realized 3 months later that I had not shared with you my last piece of work in the 50 for 50 challenge. Imagine that? The theme was to showcase Jamaica in only 50 words.  ONLY 50 WORDS!!!!! Look how amazing Jamaica is and there is a word limit to expressing how wonderful my country is. It was truly a challenge but I did it and here is the end product. Hope you enjoy!!!! I promise to be back soon.

Pride

Black, green and gold,

Plus a little red to keep it irie

Mannish water and fish tea

Sorrel and drops

Belly haffi full

Nine-night,

Street dance,

Dominoes pon di corner

Football inna di road

Fun haffi have

Hurricane every September

Flooded streets

Combated with helping hands

This is Jamaica.

50 for 50 almost done

Hello hello ladies and gents!

Well my darlings it has been a busy 2 weeks as I'm getting closer and closer to my exams. Expect me to be MIA for the next few weeks. Anyways I want to tell you about the 50 for 50 challenge and guess what? We're in week 9. Can you believe it?! One more week and it's done. It's been a great way to sharpen the saw and challenge my skills so to speak. Anyhoo. I Just wanted to share with you last week's and this week's entries into the competition. Hope you enjoy and feel free to check out others at http://50for50jubilee.wordpress.com/2012

Mirror Mirror by Ornella Green

July 20, 2012 

Mirror mirror

On the wall
Is this what I truly see?
Is this what has become of my country?

When I marched from Stony Gut
For the sake of freedom
Was this what I was marching for?
Is this what Mas George and I died for?

Corruption
Violence
Hatred
Murder

Our children being uneducated
And worse yet
Under-educated
Left to fight in the hunger games

Mirror mirror
On the wall
Where hath thy country gone?
Where hath our love disappeared to?

Has our view been shattered?
Our visions of our future distorted
We are turning 50 and celebrating
But have we truly achieved?

Are we a place to live?
To work?
Play?
Raise families?
Do business?

Are we advancing not only our pockets
But also our minds
Turning our trials
Into triumphs
Our messes
Into messages

Mirror mirror
On the wall

Tell me what you see
Is this what there is?
A future that makes me weep?

Jamaica Jamaica by Ornella Green

July 27, 2012 

I and I is jus’

Jus’ one likkle island inna di Caribbean
Mi sunshine bright
Suh we name wi name wi netballers
Sunshine Girls

My people love dem music inno
All kinda great artist dem come from yah
Mi know yuh mussi hear bout Bob
but yuh know bout Jimmy or Peter or Yellow man?
Wah yuh know bout the Wailers?
Yes massa wi love wi music
Suh wi footballers name
Reggae Boyz

Hurricane try rock mi
Every September mi get one visit
But one weh shook mi
Did name Gilbert
What a way it did mash up mi trees dem
Wash weh mi road dem
Dem all mek song bout it
‘Wata cum een ah mi room’
Di way how di ting treat wi bad

Yahdie conscious wi seh
Ah dat wi always ah pree
Whether foreign or ah yaad
Yahdie words wi seh
‘Likkle but tallawah’
‘Out of many one people’
‘Every mickle mek a muckle’
‘Jack, man, dora mi nuh choose none’
Yes man di whole ah dem tings yah come from fi mi people mout’

Mhmm
Mi is one likkle island
But mi story tall
Cuz when Anansi ready fi land
And spin him web of tales
Or weh yuh hear bout black man, white man and chiney man
All when boyzie decide fi pop style
Yuh laugh and drop dung like mi bobsled team

Mi seh mi hist’ry set
It rhythm nice
But that is another story
Mek wi save it fi ah next time
Cuz it look like them ready fi start di fireworks
50 years free dem seh
I and I

What a way dem brite

Well as you know it's a new week and that means a new Jamaica 50 challenge. Last week I unfortunately didn't place because there was only a top 2 :( Boo! But this week I came back to get the prize so to speak. So the theme for this week is to write a short story based on a Jamaican living abroad and their experiences there compared to their experiences in Jamaica. And that's what I did in Nella zest. Without further ado........Here it goes: 

What a way dem brite

It’s a regular Thursday afternoon and as usual Suzy and Stacy haffi chat pon dif one fi labbrish dem bizness.  What way dem two can chat! Look how long dem deh pon di fone ah waste up di fone bill? How dem can chat suh pon a regular? Lawd have mercy wen dis girl and har fren ah chat. Listen to dem and how dem ah chat chat out mi daylight outta mi night.

Suzy:     Hallo Stacy. Is Suzy!

Stacy:    Wah gwan mi sistren? .

Suzy:     Mi jus haffi hail yuh and keep yuh in di link wid mi bizness

Stacy:    A wah gwan up deh?

Suzy:     Mi seh Stacy what a way dem brite? A weh dem people yah ah chat bout?  Come ah tell mi bout foreign betta dan Jamaica. Fi mi Jamaica? No man dem mussi mad to blertnaut!

Stacy:    A wah yuh nah seh? A wah do dem ediat deh?

Suzy:     Dem tink seh dem betta dan wi wid dem high rise building and dem foreign fashion. Dem feel seh chu dem have yellow school bus weh pick up dem pickney ah dem gate dem betta dan wi. Dem feel seh chu ah dem mek KFC and Burga King ah dem know fi cook? Eehayah dem fool nuh faat. A weh dem know bout rundown, curry chicken and gizzada? 20 years ah ‘Merica and mi seh mi miss sweet sweet Jamdung. Mi miss di ahackee and salt fish, di fry fish and bammy. All di rock cakes mhmmm dem sweet suh til. Mi love jonkunnu festival and jcdc festival. Mi love di Hindepence day parade. Wuss Jamaica ah tun 50 dis yah year yah.

Stacy:    Yes iyah ah brite dem brite. So wah yuh tell dem?

Suzy:     Mi tell dem no weh nuh betta dan ah yaad and mi start describe everyting f idem. Yuh shudda see how dem face lite up and dem ah ooh and ahh wen mi chat. Mi haffi wonder if dem tink seh ah coc’nat tree mi live inna? Or hammack mi sleep inna? Chu dem nuh know seh ah werk mi come fi werk ah nuh lef mi lef mi yaad fi come betta place

Stacy:    Yes my girl gwan chu and promote wi island yes. Tell dem seh annu jus weed wi sell and run wi run like lightning wi live one beautiful life all over wi country inna wi different parishes.

Suzy:     Yes man mi haffi hinform dem sed ways. Heneways girl mi haffi guh back guh werk now. Ah use mi ah use di people dem lunch time fi labbrish. Mi ah guh werk. Lata.

Stacy:    Yes my girl bless up yuh self. Lata.

50 Years Ago

It's is a new week and that means that it is time for a new 50 for 50 prompt challenge. This week the challenge was to write about someone trying to decide what Jamaica needs to do to move forward and it had to be in the form of a short story. Short stories tend to be more a challenge for me because as you know I'm more of a poet, journalist or novelist when it comes on to my writing. But I do enjoy the challenge of remaking my linguistic architecture. Anyhoo, last week I came 2nd so let's see how well I did this week. I will surely keep you posted. And if you want to check out other writers and linguistic aspirants just click the link and check it out. Here

50 years ago when Norman Manley and Sir Alexander Bustamante made the trek into Independence they had but strong hopes and dreams as the backbone for the nation they loved so much. They aspired to develop a country on firm principles, integrity, education, justice and a good financial foothold.

Elsa was but a young girl then. She had just turned 18 and after an entire education system of British Colonial rule she knew little of her country’s history and heritage and more about the colonial masters and their European history. Yet, she entered into the noble profession of teaching with hopes of passing on surmountable knowledge to those soon to come.

So imagine her surprise when she realizes that despite the myriad of changes that have gone on in the world and the newly widespread availability of technology that the world has surely changed but our education system has remained constant.  We continue to stifle the growth of our children’s intellectual development by preparing them to do traditional jobs but not to be innovative in creating jobs. We teach them to be workers rather than entrepreneurs. Why is financial planning and education not popularly taught in schools? How can we expect to have a prosperous economy when our own citizens don’t know how to handle their money?

She wondered ‘how did a country with so much promise end up in such a situation?’ Where we have university graduates who can’t jobs and a people not confident in its government’s abilities to lead and change our future. The fact that every year we have a brain drain of some of our most skilled workers. Who will be left to lead? Why are children having children? Why don’t we have justice for wrong doings? Why? Why? Why? That is all she could ask why?

50 years ago Jamaica showed so much promise for the future and now desolation pervades the atmosphere. When will the change come? Who will rise up and fix all that is broken? Who will amend our education system, heal our financial sector or prescribe more jobs for our citizens? Who will foster creative and innovative minds to make us a sustainable investment? At this point all Elsa can do is ask Who? What? Where? When? Why?

Yuh hear bout wi?

Hey all it's another and that means another writing challenge for me. So last week I came in 4th with my short story and this week under the theme: Jamaica tourist season and with the challenge: Create a character who publicizes or represents Jamaica in an unconventional way I came second. So without further ado here is my poem. I hope you enjoy. And as always comments are welcomed. Also, if you want to see other responses take a look Here

 Yuh hear bout wi?

Ornella Green

Yuh know bout fi mi Jamaica?

Yuh hear bout wi?

Fi mi likkle island

It sweet. It sweet suh til

No man mi nah jus talk bout di beach dem

Mi know seh yuh muss hear bout dat

Mi love di beach

But ah nuh dat mi ah chat

Yuh know weh mi ah talk bout?

Mi ah chat bout wi parish dem

Every single one wid its own identity

Unique to ah core

Yuh hear bout wi city life?

Kingston and Montego Bay

Wid di brite brite lite dem

Weh come alive ah nite

Yuh know bout wi club dem

Weh people guh fi dance and palave dem worries away

Link up wid dem breddrin’

From night til day

Wah bout wi museum dem?

Weh share di whola wi culcha?

Art, music, sport

All finance dem feecha

Yuh did know seh wi have surfing?

Surf team weh ah excel

Meet dem inna Portland or St. Thomas

Yes mi chile dem ah dweet sweet

Yuh dun know seh wi love fi dance

Suh is it ah surprise seh we have a latin culcha?

Latin night wi ah pree

When wi visit di city

Wi ice cream sweet yuh

Unno rank it one ah di bess inna di worl’

Wi jerk chicken and pork unno wah fi taste

Mek yuh lick yuh finga dem to the core

Suh come have one taste inna Jamdown

Ah devon house or ah pan man who deh roun’

Yuh wah know bout wi hist’ry?

Den guh visit Spanish town

Wi fus capital dat inno

And dem building deh still deh roun’

Yuh wah see beauty?

Take one trip roun’

Di North Coast, Hope Gardens, or even Nanny town

Hike up ah Blue Mountains

An’ doa stop dere more ecotourism abound

Come to fi mi island

And learn bout wi

Fourteen parishes

Fourteen identities

One sweet sweet Jamdown

Blessing or Curse by Ornella Green

This is the 4th week in the prompt and the theme was "Heritage". I choose the sub-theme of "Mixed children". And if you want to check out other writers doing the prompts and their work feel free to click on the link: http://50for50jubilee.wordpress.com. So without further ado, here goes:

Blessing or Curse

Ornella Green

Every morning I wake up and do the same thing. I look in the mirror, inspect my features and wonder. Why was I put in this body? Why was I given this skin? Is it a blessing or is it a curse? Is it a badge of honour or a badge of shame?

With a black mother and a white father I’ve come to have the complexion two shades lighter than a chestnut. I have fair facial features from my father’s ancestory. Small beady eyes light-brown in colour, a small curvy mouth and a button nose smack dab in the middle of my neatly proportionate face. On the other hand, my body is that purely of a black woman. With a miniscule stature and a desirably curvaceous body I seem to be the envy of many women and the desire of many men.

The Englishman refers to me as a ‘mulatto’ but in Jamaica they just say ‘brownin’.

“Psst brownin’,” they constantly scream as I walk down the street with my friends.

Ugh, I hate that word. Last time I checked browning was a seasoning and it looked quite black. But still, they persist. But it isn’t their words that bother me. No it’s the meaning behind it. “Brownin’” and “Mulatto”. They both mean the same thing to me: you don’t belong.

Where does my identity truly lie? Is it with my father or with my mother? Is my light complexion considered a diluted black or a darkened white? Where do I lay my loyalties? How do I blend in with anyone when I stick out like a sore thumb? My country’s motto is ‘Out of many, one people’, yet everyone wants to know their identity. Everyone wants a group to identify as their own.

I’ve always been treated differently. As I child I was always singled out from my friends and siblings who were all a bit darker than I am. Sometimes I would be adored and other times scorned, all because I have a complexion that is different. Why?

I stand there, staring at my reflection and wonder. Where do I belong? The question resonates through my mind and ricochets through my body. Where do I belong? This is the internal struggle I face every day. A woman searching for her identity in a world that seems latch on to similarities and cast off all that is different. I peer into my eyes with a stark expression, examining all that I am, rotating once or twice as if trying on a fabulous new gown. And still the answer evades me. Where do I belong? Am I to be embarrassed or proud? Is this a blessing or a curse? To this day the question haunts me and I’m still searching for answers.

So I forgot to share le awesome news last week that my poem for prompt #2 actually came 1st!!!!!!! Wooot! Woot! *throws confetti* So here is this week's poem and this poem actually came 3rd this week *small yay*. Going back to reclaim the top spot next week that is my goal. But if you want to check out the other poets' works here's the link: http://50for50jubilee.wordpress.com/2012 And without further ado. Here's this week's poem under the theme: Heroes. Enjoy!

Born to Lead the Masses

Ornella Green

A strong man

Earnest and eager in spirit

Justice was his call

Freedom was his song

He didn’t have a cape

Nor had he worn a costume

His suit of armour was non-existent

All he came with was a voice and a dream

He stood up on the podium

Spreading words of wisdom

Speaking to the masses

Instilling words of inspiration

“Emancipate yourselves from mental slavery”

“If you have no confidence in self, you are twice defeated in the race of life”

“The black skin is not a badge of shame, but rather a glorious symbol of national greatness”

He spoke with a conviction that sent chills through our spines

A hero whose message preceeded him

Travelled across the waters

Transcends from coast to coast

A vision of black empowerment

Universal Negro Improvement Association

African Communities League

Were only few of his charters

The first of many to come

His legacy left on the world

With buildings in Africa, Europe, US and the Carribean

Jamaica’s first National Hero

Who else could bring such dignity to the black skin?

He wore many hats

Teacher

Journalist

Political Leader

Activist

But his first and foremost shall forever be his name

Marcus Mosiah Garvey

Hey guys. I finished prompt #2 in the Jamaica 50:50 prompt and it's officially up so I can share it with you all now. The theme this week was "Your character is a child in the 1962 Independence celebrations" So without further ado. Here goes my poem. I hope you enjoy and as usual comments are always welcomed. Oh and to vote for the poem just click on this link: http://50for50jubilee.wordpress.com/2012/06/08/independence-hullabaloo-by-ornella-green/ and comment. You can also check out other poems etc.

Hindependence Hullabaloo

by Ornella Green

August 20, 1962

Cuzzin suzie wah gwan?

My girl,

Yuh hear seh Jamaica get hindependence?

Bwoy mi nuh too kno weh dat mean

But mama seh wi free wi self from backa masta

Yes iyah dem all call election couple monts ago

And ah Missa Bustamante did win

No sah mi neva too care who did win still

All mi di wah hear ah no school and idle time

Mi did gawn afta dat

But mi seh yuh shudda deh ova yah

When August fifth midnight bell toll

Ah big big hexcitement bruk out

All fi di hindependence celebration

Mi seh mi chile

What a way di tings di nice

Maypole ah dance

Fireworks ah light up di sky

Clappaz ah buss

And di whole ah wi ah dance inna di street

What a piece ah sinting

Dem have big big ting

Ah National Stadium

Fi show wi di flag

Bwoy it pretty suh til

Wid wi colaz black, green and one gold ‘X’ inna di miggle

Den dem start sing wi new National Antem

“Heternal fadda bless hour land”

Ah suh mi tink it start

Mi nuh too know it yet

But mi glad fi tap sing dat blasted British Antem every morning

And haffi shout bout ‘God save the Queen’ like one blinking Jackass

Mi glad suh til

Di hexcitement reach mi

Ah wonder if ah dis daddy Sharpe di ah fight fah?

Or mas Marcus did ah preach?

Him seh back to Africa yes

But wi haffi start from someweh don’t?

Heneways cuzzin

Mi gone cuz mama ah call mi fi wash di clothes dem

Wah gwan fi yuh ah ‘Merica?

Lata,

Angie

So as promised here is my 5th place first prompt. The theme was 'Tainos'. I must admit it was a bit rough to do this one but I did my best.

First Born by Ornella Green

Children live what they learn

But what was taught to me?

Weapons and murder is survival

My family would be extinct on arrival of the invaders

What lessons have i learnt?

What have they taught me?

Exploit the meek and plunder

Rob and steal

I come from a simple way of being

Cassava, tobacco

All crops to feed

‘We were here first!’  I screamed at the top of my lungs

But they couldn’t understand

They didn't seem to understand me

They couldn't realize we were first to settle

First to make our homes

First to live these lives of freedom

All they sought was to destroy us

Make us work

And do what they want

Why haven't the gods helped us?

Why can't the cacique lead us to safety?

Are we doomed to this life?

Is there no escape for us?

Children live what they learn

But what was taught to me?

Survival is for the fittest?

The more vigilant and dominating?

What have they taught me?