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HomeThe Lite features the work of other writers whose work I enjoy. These are above caliber smiths who take the responsibility of wielding a pen seriously. It is my desire here to spread some illumination on some of the phattest poetry around. I hope you enjoy these poets and their work
as much as I have. Contact information has been included along with short bio on the featured poet.Come on in to the lite, the betta to see ma dears.
Featured Poet: Sandra E. Morris~
Sandra E. Morris is Co-ordinator of VOICES: Barbados Writers
Collective, the group's Webmistress (VOICES: Barbados Writers Collective ONLINE) and LISTSERV Administrator and the Editor of VOICES ONLINE E-newsletter.Her poetry is performed at many venues and she is one of the featured
VOICES from VOB's 92.9FM's (most popular radio station in Barbados) top of the hour station identification. http://anexa.com/voicesbarbadoswriterscollective Email:bdsvoices@iname.comThis awarding winning playwright and poet is also Creative Director of
her company Butterfly Creative Services, which offers freelance writing,
editing and public relations consultancy, among other services, to clients. She is also Assistant Editor with The Caribbean Wedding Guide. Sandra's work has
been published in various newspapers and magazines distributed throughout the region and beyond. The mother of one (Sharice) also designs greeting cards (Butterfly Press) and is currently working on her first collection of poetry.
Email: butterflycreative@caribsurf.com
Beauty of the Bald Head
Pantherlike, he loped past me with a wink.
The shiny dome beckoning
To my womanliness
Strikes a chord within
And a smile without.
Unbidden comes an image
Of tenderly cradling that head
Between breasts.How is it that a black man
Bares his head so beautifully?Isaac in the 70's
With smouldering sensuality
Casts Yule far in the shade.Ebony, cafe au lait, cocoa, nutmeg, caramel
All gleam in a myriad of hues
Catching my eye
And my fancy.Somehow, the symetry must be right.
The tilt and shape of the slightly large ears,
The smooth, roundness of the pate,
The pride that hangs like an unseen mantle.Bald headed friends patiently endure
Fingers lightly
Massaging
Tickling
Stroking
And pressing scalp
As I behold the beauty of the Bald Head.
Copyright by Sandra E. Morris © 1998
Chemistry A mingling of sighs, Each pulse quickening next to the other Is a sign of a connection. Further still, is the joy clamouring when you gently Raise the gooseflesh from my skin with your calloused fingertips, Or lap Lightly from my juicy nether lips. One work evokes a smile from either Conjuring up a moment past, As we speak that special language. How is it that the very lines of those brawny, brown biceps Flexing As you whip up a fragrant dish Make my mouth water? Or that you doubt the power of the deep, mellifluous tones Caressing My eardrums, Redolent of soothing notes of the bass pan? Isn’t it clear that your special scent Tickles My fancy, As I lean in closer for a wordless embrace? Yes, you fine brother Instinctively Mastered the art of chemistry. Copyright © 1998 by Sandra E. Morris Hot Interlude
Do you have the road map to my body?
You know just where to touch and kiss
to start the flames raging,
'really hot' is how I would describe this
feeling of connection to you
and you'll have to pardon
my graphic description of our interlude
as nipples harden
skin glows
mouth dries
eyes close
and my moist, hot core
is a secret cave
openly inviting you to explore
with fingers with nose
with tongue with lips
with your head poised for entry
you seize my hips
and take meinto a kaleidoscopic dream
of moans, of flesh slick with sweat
shuddering together I scream
OH YES! and scratch your back
in the throes of desire
the scent of sex rises in the dark
as we bask in the still glowing embers of the fire.Copyright © by Sandra E. Morris 1999
Upcoming issue feature: Marvin X For The Brothers I love to feast my eyes on my beautiful black brothers to slowly devour their hard looks growing softer by the moment sly smiles, knowing eyes suave walk, smooth-fast talk sounding sweet to my open soul the simple movements flutter of the dark eye widening smile of the lips extension of the dark cheeks forming an even darker dimple the waving of the arm to beckon, then form a love-bracelet around my yearning body the stillness of the undivided stare of a message transported mentally or relaxation following climaxation the edge of desire rising...elevating accelerating to the beat of the heart to the blink of an eye I LOVE to feel the PEAK of satisfaction while feasting my eyes on my beautiful black brothers jaygeeoh © all rights reserved Los Alamos Los Alamos
burnsWilliam Burroughs
would be
proudLet It Come Down
Let it all
burnManhattan's legacy
still scatters
plutonium
on wings
of flameAs Oppenheimer says,
"We have become
Vishnu
destroyer
of worlds"Park rangers
start a
controlled burnScientists
start a
controlled reactionLet It Come Down.
Rastous
© all rights reserved
the journey (singing) look where he brought me from ooooh... look where he brought me from he brought me out of darkness into the light look where he brought me from i found a hidin' place ooooh... i found a hidin' place he brought me out of darkness into the light look where he brought me from..... in the holes of slave ships is where he brought me from crammed in one by one the stench could be smelled from miles away we laid in the bottom of the ship hundreds of days not knowing where we were going life and death were common bedfellows in that place you might have been chained to someone who was alive days ago only to have died yesterday and no one came down there to carry the dead away so there you were chained next to death hoping in the same breath you weren't next there was murmurs of fear, anger and despair no one knowing when they would be fed and with so much disease everywhere many cried to the Gods pleading to be dead and as the ship reached its destination the sailors on the ship with no hesitation whipped the cargo from the hull of the ship beat them until they would submit into their control in fortresses or ports the sailors would hold them until auction time "she looks like she could satify my needs" "he looks good enough to breed" "both will be mine".... as time passes on i see hints of our ancestors' spirits in my reflection mirroring the pain and hurt of a near 400 year infection that continually wounds the soul when i look at society today there are reminders of slavery's days of old now the plantation is this capitalist system and i'm trying to break free in the midst of the system trying to break me, beat me into submission political violence economic violence social violence is violence all the same in the middle of the carnage a ray of light remains the light remains in my being, in my spirit i know there are better days to come i know the shackles of enslavement of African minds will be undone i know eventually all Africans will rise as one but look were God has brought us from from the bowels of slave ships to suburban houses and picket fences from auction block to owning blocks of land from picking cotton by hand to having clothing custom-made brand from drinking the water of firehoses to drinking park fountains from sweeping the master's house to owning a house from working sun up to sun down to working 9-5 with benefits and pay look where he brought us from but in this realm of dark mental chaos the chains no longer on our wrist but clamped to our minds and spirit to forget the past is to repeat it let us not forget the ancestors their bodies and spirits brought with a cost if we do not remember we will be lost remember who you are remember whose you are look where HE has brought us from NileGoddess © all rights reserved If I Didn't Have My Pen in my mind....
i've been blessed with black and blue blood
born to bring motion to emotions and flood
minds that suffer from sexual drought
and to show fools what being a Black intellectual is about
and as my fingertips stroke keys
my mind is momentarily put to ease
because this verbal release
gives me temporary but true peace
so I peice together fragments and figments of my imagination
to come up with thoughts that have forced me into contemplation
and this visual replication is only a dedication to myself
to share myself to love myself to be myself therefore I own myselfyou see this pen is merely an instrument used to convey what I want to say
but as long as blue black blood bleeds
these words serve as my seeds
they give me exactly what I need
on these words I will continue to feed
and as long as I 'water these muthafuccas' my soul will grow
it doesn't matter what other's may say as long as I know
as long as I do what's right in my soul for Renee'
I gives a good gotdamn what other's may say
no problems expressin' my sex-u-al-i-tay
because sex-u-al-i-tay is a damn re-al-i-tay
no problems expressin' my pleasure or pain
I have nothing to lose so i stand to gain
I stand to gain reign over a heart full of pain
I stand to gain reign over a mentality that was once chainedso if ever i was cursed not to have my pen
i'd find the beginning of this SINful end
and go back in the darkest ages of time
to find a way to record the words of my mind
and since I wouldn't be able to flick my bic
i'd use the ground to write down dirty thoughts with a stick
or write on concrete with broken pieces of red brick
or even use white rocks, y'all remember that trick?
and if the rocks started to break open my skin
i'd use my blood to write down mental sins
and if this shit wasn't pumpin' through me i'd be dead
and I wonder if my blood is really 'read'
because this ink is my blood
and when I bleed I try to flood
sheets of paper with visions of the world through my eyes
I tell of 400+ year-old lies
how a malnourished soul dies
how my image laughs but my spirit cries
how good dick brings short shallow sighs
how everybody wants a copy but nobody buys
how unification is the only way we'll rise
how thanksgivin' aint shit without mama's sweet potato pies
how live, love, and learn are words of the wise
how my job has me missin Days of their Lives
how hatin' on each other will be our demise
how this shake damn well comes with fries
how we's and us's gotta be you's and I's
how Black revolutionaries are only born when a Black man dies
how Black women still give up on the brotha who still tries
how some successful brothas think a 'trophy' is a prize
how successful brothas need sista's to riseif I didn't have my pen
i'd still be able to bend
over your thoughts and lapdance in your mind
givin' you visions you could see even if your were blind
mind fuck u so good you'd think about me all the time
even strokin' your thoughts can't ejaculate me from your mind
hold up, bring it back come rewind
mind fuck u so good you'd think about me all the time
even strokin' your thoughts can't ejaculate me from your mind
and this energized flow could keep going and going
but this shit is gettin long, this i'm knowing
but i'm sayin', if I didn't have my pen
there'd be no end, just another way to begin......rsjsj sinsualmind
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