Poetry Notes, FASTT!!

Then all the children of Cocoa Bottom
went to see Mr. Samuel's electric lights. - God-like, miracle worker, great spectacle
They camped on the grass bank outside his house,
their lamps filled with oil, - aware of light, not electricity; artificiality of western world will corrupt them
waiting for sunset,
watching the sky turn yellow, orange.
Grannie Patterson across the road
peeped through the crack in her porch door.
The cable was drawn like a pencil line across the sun. - cable scarred landscape
The fireflies waited in the shadows, - think they're better than God because even fireflies turn off their light; nature comes to see lights come on
their lanterns off. - God turning off his light; kids used to creation
The kling-klings swooped in from the hills, - inferior to mankind
congregating in the orange trees.
A breeze coming home from sea held its breath; - nature is not regarded the same
bamboo lining the dirt road stopped its swaing,
and evening came as soft as chiffon curtains:
Closing. Closing. - something new is frightening

Light! - nature beautiful, mankind ugly
Mr. Samuel smiling on the verandah -
a silhouette against the yellow shimmer behind him - - seems like God with yellow shimmer
and there arising such a gasp,
such a fluttering of wings, - birds frightened
tweet-a-whit,
such a swaying, swaying.
Light! Marvellous light! - think nature is marvelling light; brought age - reason, science
And then the breeze rose up from above the trees,
swelling and swelling into a wind
such that the long grass bent forward
stretching across the bank like so many bowed heads. - worship Mr. S above God
And a voice in the wind whispered:
Is there one among us to record this moment? - nature wins?
But there was none -

no one (except for a few warm rocks
hidden among mongoose ferns) even heard a sound.
Already the children of Cocoa Bottom
had lit their lamps for the dark journey home, - kids corrupted once seen artificial light
and it was too late -
the moment had passed. - kids lives, nothing the same again

Here, on the streets of London - here and now is where we found ourselves, not happy, poor or see many races
where, some say, the scattering began - empire dispossessed them, allow other races in
we come to find our faces again
We come to measure the rhythm of our paces
against the call of the Ghanaian drum that talks
against the wail of the mbira from Zimbabwe - different culture, seek someone who is alike you in crowds
that yields music to the thumbs
We come with faces denying names - we don't belong, excluded, outcast
gone English, Irish, Scottish - give British names to fit in
We come with hands that speak
in ways the tongue has forgotten - language stripped from you
We come with intonations
that reshape languages we have been given - we think in our natural language, inslaving them when forced to speak English
We come with eyes that tell a story - eyes see the past
the brain cannot recall - instinctive to you
We come with the blue of the sea so close - rememberance of past
that we lift our eyes with yearning
to the emptiness of the skies - cultural memory, yearning back to the past
Some of us come with the memory of
forest sounds that we have never known
We all come speaking so simply - trying to communicate with others, cannot say exactly...
of complicated things. Here - ...because profound thoughts and feeling are beyond words
when we recognize each other
on the streets of London
hands and eyes and ears
begin to shape answers
to questions tongue can find
no words for asking. - unspoken, why are we here, no going back

I leave me people, me land, me home - regard Caribbean as home, come for money
For reasons, I not too sure
I forsake de sun - blames herself for abandoning her home, rich and exotic
And de humming-bird splendour - bright colours
Had big rats in de floorboard - negative - exchange one squalid house for another
So I pick up me new-world self - for her, England is a new world
And come, to this place call England - replication of turning around
At first I feeling like I in dream - - nightmare
De misty greyness - smog, unreal environment
I touching de walls to see if they real
They solid to de seam - indicating it's like a prison
And de people pouring from de underground system - dehumanised, no expression, trapped, almost as if blind and grey because never see the sun underground
Like beans
And when I look up to de sky
I see Lord Nelson high - too high to lie - Trafalgar Square - part of system who made people slaves

And is so I sending home photos of myself - negative photos
Among de pigeons and de snow - alien to her
And is so I warding off de cold - virus, coldness of society and weather, not just physically cold
And is so, little by little
I begin to change my calypso ways - stamp calypso out of it (dance), aware of changing to adapt
Never visiting nobody - not friendly in city
Before giving them clear warning - English lifestyle
And waiting me turn in queue - enjambment - waiting for your turn
Now, after all this time - her struggle
I get accustom to de English life - not home to her
But I still miss back-home side
To tell you de truth
I don't know really where I belaang - Afro-Caribbean dialect, person without a country

Yes, devided to de ocean - not just geographical, mentally, emotionally
Divided to de bone

Wherever I hang me knickers - that's my home. - knickers = defiance, but positive ending, have to accept her