Marketing Career

(in Prose Poetry)

Marketing is the name…the game of wielding and dealing for capital gain in the country and in the town by the tongue. The competitive edge bringing out the best and worst of humankind; miss the mark…autumn splashes on her demonic smiles; the gush, lush of spring no more in the toes...the woes; the purchasing dollar higher than Everest; and marketers and racketeers play golf on her top, joyously shelling four-pees…these four-arm bandits; the consumers albatross…product, price, promotion and a place to store are the gods of the marketing world that consumers…honor sun up, sun down to ward off spirited debt collectors and foreclosure from their doors. Ha ha! Marketing careers are so exciting and rewarding when jobs are found. A CEO position is the ladder to climb...Missteps…fall…in the slime…pelicans in Mexican Gulf.

©Paterika Hengreaves

Peace on Land for Israel, Piece of Land for Palestine

(Prose Poem)

Land dispute has plagued the world since creation. This plague erodes families when families are aggrieved upon reading  the “Will” they feel deep down inside their minds that some sort of tampering or greed or whatever has been done, in short, fair-play goes through the back-door.  Peace, perfect peace is the wish this day for the Israelis and Palestine people; which to a musing mind; can be attained by settling the land dispute, the land dispute at the core; of the cussing, fighting, throwing stones, rocks and all kinds missiles landing here, there and yonder with deadly speed, with dreadful consequences through the front door,   through the back door, through the air and tunnels; landing wherever the winds blow with bloody regularity. Where are the hearts of love and the humanity! Leaders of Israel and Palestine your duties are profound, you can stop the carnage on every side in this drama. Sick to the stomach, watching this sad movie playing and playing and playing;  a documentary of peace the world is yearning with eyes turn to the Middle East. Pray tell; is this the kind of legacy you want for your people? Leaders of Israel and Palestine you must answer for deep down the people of Israel want peace, perfect peace; deep down the people of Palestine want their piece of the land; solve the problem now and stop this bloody nightmare now.   Leaders of Israel and Palestine, for peace sake step up to the plate, put an end to this nightmare and go build your nation of peace for your people and those yet to come. Peace, Piece, what about this, you don’t understand?

© Paterika Hengreaves
July 27, 2014

Different Perspective

Talk about some people. They say anything. Tongue tattling and changing course like the lizard’s hide monitoring the rays of the sun. Chasing for scores with stripes come hell or high water. Self-inflicted pain for fame a burning shame; thinking divergently well applauded but hypocrisy in bed with democracy is plain crazy. Independent thought is best when self-preserved; paycheck guaranteed. Gossip makes good party talk keeping the lava lamp aglow like the oily robots deep down in the Gulf off Louisiana no mouth caps can stop the flow of piping hype and drive. And still hear another point that must be drilled but riddle I must tell: know when to walk, know when to run; know when to quit and know when to trim the wit. Never grow old in one spot making face-wrinkles flutter like ribbons on a circus tent. A dinosaur in the Millennium Age wag not your tongue, a sword will nail you down for you must, know when to quit with your wit; know when to run; senility and civility are mere rhymes in these times ditto --but I love the music coming from the bag…pipe. Rest now in peace, you have done your duty spectacularly. Thank you Helen.

© Paterika Hengreaves

Royal Wedding in Focus

Click on title to read poem

Inspired by Prince William and Kate Middleton
Twenty-first Century Royal Wedding
Prose Poem for the Wedding of the Century

Prose Poem for the Royal Wedding of the 21st Century

(Prose Poem for the Royal Wedding of the 21st Century)

This Royal Wedding emboldens the Monarchy, which shall endure for evermore. Fate says so. Prince William has the will carved in his name and DNA. The stars and twinkle of the goddess Britannia, the one and only one, Princess Diana. Leaves an enduring halo on Prince William's forehead, and his crown. The Monarchy is alive and well; monarchy haters' torches have burnt out, no oil or gas, they just self-destruct. Anarchy finds no feathered bed in democracy. This Royal Wedding of the 21st Century is a blessing in disguise in all important ways. Behold! It springs young sprouts in a world where autumn leaves blow toxic air all about. Wedding springs young sprouts with crowning optimism sustaining smiles here, there and everywhere about; reeling from disasters natural and manmade and the media in your face 24/7 feeding Halloween stories day in day out; their devastating images of earthquakes worldwide, tsunamis, nuclear disasters, greed of liars everywhere and tyrants wantonly slaughtering their people whose only desire is for freedom and better way of life; and if that is not enough, a global recession, mountains of debt at both the micro and macro levels adding insult to injury with catastrophic proportion. What the whole world needs right now are positive images and that's what the Royal Wedding of the Century is all about and a Prince with wholesome genes growing his queen from a bridal trough. Prince William, son of the dearly beloved Princess Diana in his wisdom realized that his marrying now, not later down the road, could be, the ace, to drive any economy back to life and put the doldrums in a lock down place; bringing joy and smiles once more on a world of faces warped by sackcloth and ashes, for crying out loud. By golly, Prince William was right; people are happy and smiling worldwide. The euphoria for Princess Diana, the most beautiful, loving and down-to-earth member of the British Royal tree is back through Prince William her first son. This Royal wedding has brought back not only smiles on faces and media rejoices with beautiful images of pomp and pageantry 24/7 and Princess Diana is back in town, the crowd spell bound. Princess Diana speaks to the world through her most beloved and adorable sons, Prince William and Prince Harry. Off to the Royal Wedding we all must go to Westminster Abbey on TV. I can't wait to cozy up to my TV and watch the pomp and pageantry the hallmark of the Brits where an authentic British Monarchy rules the waves of Parliamentary democracy, and I make no apology for saying that. Long live the British Monarchy, God bless the Queen and all her household. Congratulations to Prince William and Kate Middleton on this their Wedding Day and I wish them a happy and long married life. Wait I must for the next big celebration, in the very near future, the coronation of Princess Diana's son, Prince William. No offense to Her Royal Highness, Queen Elizabeth II, but Prince William has the characteristics to dress the British Monarchy in "brand new clothes" in this 21st Century and hold on tightly the reins of his domestic happiness. A modern King, active duty in military, tweeting face book pages, the King of England and the Commonwealth. King George VI did just that supposedly at a time when threads in the British Monarchy began to fray, humbly speaking my democratic opinion. A new King of England and the Commonwealth sounds good to me ears.

© Paterika Hengreaves
April 25, 2011/St James, Barbados


Note on Prose Poem

This style is characterized with rhythmic, aural and syntactic repetition; compression of thought; sustained intensity and patterned structure but is set on the page in a continuous sequence of sentences as in prose without line breaks.

In prose poetry, the line is not treated as a formal unit, nor does it employ the repetitive patterns of rhythm or meter associated with the many forms of poetic expression. The cadence or rhythmical prose (Prose Poetry) is not reestablished but emerges from the rhythm of thought. 

Specialization

(in Prose Poetry)
Centuries ago; this was so. Fishing, farming and mining ore…so it was…no oil...well…manufacturing and recycling of yore. No spills and lots of manure…from one hand for sure did... farming, stitching, washing, cooking and so much more. Jack-of-all-trades so the story goes. Specialization was for them an eyesore.

Up comes Bill Gates on the scene, creating software for the computer screen, subdividing tasks into numerous schemes. Body, mind and soul integrated supremely…specializing, dividing the whole and feeding so many more…monopoly went through the door. Productivity and competition we adore…but…too many heads…make Bad Pea…soup…Blatant Pain for sure across our deep horizon.

© Paterika Hengreaves

Glowing so Lovely

(in Prose Poetry)















Scores of candle-colour blooms in homes and round the globe; love dust dripping from candle wick enticing and bewitching; dripping and grinning like a Cheshire cat. Making candles with skilful fingers is like holding a rose on a stem of thorns; protective gear is all that it demands skimming fat from animals’ hide; spurting perfume from all shapes and hues; evil spirits no longer in the dark and mosquitoes take hasty flight; so there, I can rest and pleasant thoughts in the head tossing and turning and enjoying my king-size bed.

© Paterika Hengreaves

Production Revisited

(a Prose Poem)

Prosaically speaking, production is everywhere for Tom, Dick, Harry and Mary to see. Production is in the air, under the sea and on the land. Tangible and intangible, these products are in demand. The goods are to satisfy the consumers’ wants and needs, but how can we keep them please when their minds, at times, as fickle as the morning breeze! Such delicate flowers, we must handle them with care for dissatisfied customers are the sellers’ worse nightmare. Production, our economic cake is not easy to make. So many resources, natural, human and capital from many hands and lands, it demands, truly. The marketing mix must be blended very well. Greedy competition is great with every ring of the Wall Street bell. Economies of scale, Exxon, Mobil are some of the giants of the business world competing with Lilliputians, the tiny cottage industries, are so very mean; when their economic terrorism strikes the wee lot, so small and lean. The gas attacks moving about a body are too much to bear the Dica relief to no avail; and the fishy oil causing diarrhea from the mouth to butt everywhere; meanwhile dancing the bebop is BP testing the mess only killing smiles by miles as Katrina persists on wearing her gaga creations and fishy foul smelling underwear. Monopolistic power tied with mystic conglomerate squeeze all around. Consumers’ freedom of choice is dead, buried and bound.


© Paterika Hengreaves

The View (Prose Poem)

As I sit here at the window viewing rolling hills and fallow, yesteryear memories are back on a fast forward spinning track now that the ground is very wet. Deserted fields now catch the eyes and there are no signs of edible supplies. It has been raining days on in a row. Heavenly fireworks are on show. The clattering sound, flashing neon lights and pilots are afraid of the sky so planes do not start the flight. 

The rains are but gone now, the sky is clear and animate and blooms are everywhere. The dragonflies are in the air.



Such an awful name they must bear and I will not call them that in here for they must know that I do care. Oh! How they do soar in the sun with flair. One minute their heads are up in the cloud and then down with their outstretched wings so translucently clear.  Their gaping mouths are share delight. They stalk their prey and swallow them in the bright light. Now I say predators are on the loose. Mosquitoes and gnats are in the noose. They fly so freely high above in search of those mates to love. Rest they must on that blade of grass mindful of children as they pass.  They stand on their head, what a laugh, their tails so straight like some giraffe. They conjugate in the groove and notch. Their mating wheel is there to watch. Audible impact is the lust. Dragonflies you tease and you fuss zooming close to my callaloo. Then you must be the tantaboo.

©Paterika Hengreaves

The New Curriculum

Change is here, there and everywhere. Most people don't like change and this is 'raising cain', the rebel in us all. Oh! Give me a break. So we make a pause, reflect and then make the change. In the generic vein, men pause before the change. When the pendulum on the academic clock swings from one ideology to the next, a change has occurred, the paradigm shift. Concept-based teaching in the classroom they want to see because too many nonessential facts are on the plate, causing kids to suffer from regurgitation ache with the brain foaming and not roaming as it should, inquiringly to construct and construe creatively. The molecules of chalk-dusk and spit balls flying about not good for the eyeballs for they maim with pain. A diet of Edutech cookies woud constrain those salivate balls. Yea, we would have constructed a student-friendly commune where constructivism as they call it, would flourish with equal opportunities for all. Multi-tasking teachers, they all would be, facilitating the learning process for all to see. Socializing the kids in groups of four or more, aircraft seatng in the classroom, not anymore. Exchanging, consulting and verifying of ideas are on the upward swing, which would increase the collaborative score. Censorship of intellectual thought, not again. Mind you this was never the case before. Testing, you must, but the mess in the process, we must address. Portfolio assessment and observation checklist, we implore. One-shot examining and stuffing must go through the eddo.

© Paterika Hengreaves


Notes

eddo: It is also referred to as the taro or dasheen. In Barbados this tropical plant is called the eddo. It is grown primarily as a vegetable food for its edible corm (root vegetable). Secondarily as a leaf vegetable. The leaves of this plant look like elephant ears.

'raising cain': Adam is the first man in the old Judeo-Christian Bible and he raised two sons, Cain and Abel from his wife, Eve. Cain was jealous of his brother Abel and he killed him according to Genesis Chapter 4: Verses 1 to 8. Read the entire Chapter for the full account.

These two brothers fought often (sibling rivalry) and as such, their relationship was filled with trouble. Hence, the expression: raising cain (meaning to cause trouble and disturb others.)

Sugarcane

Look, see those people in the fields standing with feet in so much trash. No doubt, they are thinking about the weekend cash as they do the sugarcane dance. They top each blade of grass with a lance. They are as busy as the bees. On the island they work for Arthur and me. Who are those people in the fields? They are the sugar-workers, and oh how they please as they swing and hurl their hands in the breeze and kiss the grasses with bended knees. Their voices are loud, but their throats are not hoarse. They sing too sweetly, but their hands might be coarse. What are the words to the tunes they sing? Do you know the lyrics to what they say? Are they singing calypso songs about Harding, and Carlisle Bay? But I say to you, that yearly they dance in every crop-over band, which brings foreign capital flowing to this our beautiful land.

© Paterika Hengreaves

Home-made Candles

Scores of candles are made at home. Making candles with skilful fingers is a chore. Candles burning brightly are really some type of wax packed tight. Mounted as a mould or in a jar their light is seen near and far. They come in so many different shapes, hue and scent. They fill the polluted air with sweet perfume and cause smiling faces to resume. They are delightful on tables, windowsills and birthday cakes too. Do you know that candles come from animal fat with a wick stuck inside? Such recycled things can do the trick when saving the environment from heat and thirst, or we could create more problems that make the head burst. They say that candles burning in the night can kill mosquitoes in their flight. The fragrance of candles is such a delight, that most people enjoy their scent and light. Angel candles burning in a dark room provide no place for evil spirits to hide or park. So the soul is at rest and pleasant thoughts in the head whenever you toss and turn in your queen-size bed.

©Paterika Hengreaves/2002

Leadership Bajan Style

Leadership is all about style, the manner and approach. Good leaders are good-natured, polite and know how to coach. They direct, implement the plan and know the workers’ plight so subordinates are motivated to succeed with all their might. Do you know the names of leaders you admire and hope some day that you would dress in similar attire? Could it be any one of these, your mother, your dad, your principal or some other? What personality traits do you find in the leader of your choice? Could it be the winning smile and tone of voice? Could it be someone who communicates with an occasional shout or yell but nevertheless, does get the jobs done very well? Do you like a leader who acts so very cool, non-interference in the affairs of others is the popular tool; but then, could it be that you rather a leader who is versatile and wears three hats with a feather, likes to smile, mixes the autocratic, democratic and laissez faire style? Such referent power and behaviour workers bound to know that is no guile. Good leaders develop their thoughts, a never-ending process and that is why they acquire the fame and their success. So, good leaders are made and not born and would welcome a challenge any day even if they have to hold with their bare fingers hot roasted corn on the cob.

©Paterika Hengreaves

Humming Birds (Prose Poetry)

We connected I was glad. My four little aerial friends in glittering coats arrived. First was Buff-Bellied then Calliope. Three days later, came Black-Chinned and Ruby too. Very best of friends we were. I fed them from outstretched hands. In a timeless relationship, indeed, our love knew no bounds. I never thought, though, that this could all end. What could have caused this awful blur? I believed they thought I was a cat because people call me Mary Katz. They did not wait to check facts, so in a hurry they returned to humming bird land, Trinidad. I kept telling myself, they would be back; migratory trends would take care of the pack. I do miss my humming birds you know. They are such appreciative little creatures they glow. Into my backyard they say hello. I feed them, before I leave house, I would watch their incandescent rainbow feathers glow; their branching turns, pirouettes in the air. My sadness now is replaced with joy, because of a card they sent me, today, it reads, “sorry my friend for our foul up display. The weather up there, you know, is very cold this time of the year. The frost, is not good, for our brilliant array, south of the border to Marguerite, is where, we temporarily will stay. Adios.

©Paterika Hengreaves
2001/New York, USA

Hem and Haw

Why is it so hard for some people to make up their minds? They keep on hemming and hawing before they can come to an agreement. It is like pulling teeth. Hehe! They behave like executives in a government office. This couple I met is a classic case in point. Their travel documents are as old as the hills and there is this battle of words between them both. She asked him how long his passport allows him to stay. Then questions started to rain like hail. "Why this information was not made clear? Then there would have been no problem, my dear. Is it not the intention for us to meet for a while so we can see if there is chemistry between us and finally clear up the mystery that is lurking here? We are searching for that special one, are we not? Do you want to meet in the fall or summer? So, do I hear you say that you will come and stay for a while, three days or more, in the villa owned by John Moore? I hate to lose you because you cannot make up your mind or could it be that you so cheap because you think that the rent for the place is too steep? Or is this your way of saying goodbye?"

©Paterika Hengreaves/July 2003

A Cinderella Too

Why do they have to treat me so? Cover me up with a colourful wrap with no bow? Then place me on a shelf in somebody’s store, so that shoppers buy my cleansing agents and more. Why do I have fragrance so very sweet? Why must I undergo so many degrees of heat? One moment, I feel like oil, a gel or petroleum. Then be a bar, a powder or liquid with a different smell. Does anyone really care about how I feel? Housed me in a wrap that must be ideal, but sealed so tightly I can hardly sneeze, while insisting that I fight the battle of disease. Why do I have to endure such crap? They undressed me and discarded my wrap. They plunged me in water hot and cold then left me exposed on a sink, fancy! That is bold. Why must I be the Cinderella of the cleaning world and be placed in some machine to be tossed and twirled? Why do I have to be called by different brands and be touched by so many hands? My fragrant emissions are so carefully hidden, but the places I must be are never forbidden. The lather must be everywhere on body parts, animate or inanimate, I must be dear, there and everywhere

©Paterika Hengreaves/2002

Hidden Agenda

Some people would do and say anything when on the chase for a mark with stripes. They are not true to themselves or to us. Dishonesty of thought, you would agree. Do these people rest at night? Do they sleep with opened eyes? Why such self-inflicted pain for fame? Oh! That is a burning shame. We are persons with unique minds and divergent thinkers and that is what democracy allows. Independent thought, we arouse. Be sincere in all you do and that should be your motto too. Be guided by facts and a truthful heart. No bitterness abounds when we must part. Tongue and cheek do have words, they say, but yet remaining in place just the same. Oh, yes! Opinions expressed can cause offence when not coated with plain commonsense. Reflecting is such a wonderful thing because it purges the brain of useless vies each day. So we think out loud every now and then with no axe to grind.

©Paterika Hengreaves/2002