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Author Archives: Myrna Moore
Garden
Garden, you are always there. No day No month No year is like any other. Between the sky and the earth You watch and wait But under that seemingly – calm exterior you keep stock You count the days Weeks … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
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Woke Masquerade
Accusations of wokery is just cover for anything they don’t like. Be it: Kindness to strangers Empathy Equality of the sexes Tolerance of gender fluidity Refusing to bend into prescribed stereotypes Liking refugees – believing they are people too Caring … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
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She Little but she Tallawa
She Little But She Tallawa is a poem about an Eighteenth century Jamaican heroine, Nanny, small and wiry. ‘Tallawa’ means strong. She was trafficked from Ghana to Jamaica to become a slave. But once there, fought her way free and … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
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Bertha (Antoinette Cosway) The Woman in the Attic
Bertha (Antoinette Cosway) The Woman in the Attic (inspired by Jean Rhys’ Wide Sargasso Sea) My real name Antoinette Cosway New husband Rochester Brands me Bertha Henceforth My land, house, body mind (what little remains) All his I know who … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
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Silence
Silence hammers at my door ‘Let me in.’ Let me in to make you Think Learn Feel Silence ushers in Forgotten joy and pain The joy is fleeting The pain lasting Like a freefalling feather Silence reaches the parts Others … Continue reading
Posted in General, Poetry
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Early morning walk
After 40 years of living in England, my parents retired back to Jamaica, Montego Bay. My father’s routine was to have an early morning walk to experience the sun coming up. On our visit, we joined him and were overwhelmed … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
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Period Piece
This year, July 27 th we ‘celebrated’ our 45 th wedding Anniversary. I say ‘celebrate’, in actual fact – we forgot until our youngest daughter sent a message congratulating us. Funnily enough, I had marked it on the calendar, weeks … Continue reading
Posted in Prose
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Masks
Written and spoken by Myrna Moore They have always been there from Africa gleaming wood carved in praise And supplication. To Egypt immortalised in gold for the journey into eternity. Through China, Tibet, Indonesia and pre – Columbus Americas. They … Continue reading
When The Morning Comes
Written and spoken by Myrna Moore Clouds mass Birds swoop Catching the last of the last seeds from the tree People group Some stare Wondering what could be Could be different From now? They did not see They did … Continue reading
Posted in Audio, Poetry
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You could say…
You could say: ‘They came, they saw, they conquered’ but that would not explain how they survived how they thrived Goodbye Farewell So long… bright light skies until… New skies grey – fog – smog drizzle Closed shores ‘No Irish, … Continue reading
Posted in Poetry
4 Comments