Dems were Bees-Bees were Dems

(Univocalic jab at Barbadian Politics Using the Vowel "e" only)

let see, help me see

when Bees selected Dems they were Bees

the best feeders seeded the bees’ nest

expelled renters kept the whey

flexed knees wheeled self-respect

speech defects depressed the rest

extend the scheme when verses rhyme

when Bees were Dems they vexed them

let see, help me see

when Dems were Bees
when Bees selected Dems
the best feeders seeded the Bees' nest
expelled renters kept the whey
flexed knees wheeled self-respect
speech defects depressed the rest
they fled

these speechless freezers
deflected rejects

see the mess deep stress

when Bees leet leer Dems
leg byes leery ledge between Dems sneeze
when Bees were Dems

we speechless

we eye-lens bent
when levee level the ley

the press help repress
then secede them

deflected rejects see the mess deep stress

when rebels’ legends wheedled the free press

deeds reflected the embezzlement

they resented the rhymes we expressed

never defend them
when leery deeds
emerged them

free press smell Dems’ feet between the Bees

plenty Bees see vexed Dems

when nested Bees, never flee

were Dems Bees? Yes
were Bees Dems? Yes

when Bees see themselves entrenched

then the press crested members’ senses

smelled spent sperm ... fewer weeds between the trees

the eyes see
fewer Bees in the nest

hewers’ hex behest between

when Dems bedded Bees they wed

creepy
greedy

be jeez!

they set the cresset

the creeps’ speedy jeeps deflected 

jeez! they fled

when Dems' feet dent the Bees' nest
they fled the berth
bereft

© Paterika Hengreaves

(September 2013)

Day Dreams

she stands

beside

the quiet pond

holds a lily-pad

in her hand

that hides

her face

from

the sun

her mind is as far as

the distant hill

and she dreams amid floating clouds

rivulets flow down her cheeks

she closes her eyes

in silent prayer

all day long

the moonlight in her eyes

the sun in its hiatus

the skewed mind

dancing with the clouds

raining their drops

on her

phantom world

© Paterika Hengreaves
(March 2014)

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Flying Fish

Oft in childhood recollection
of the beach,
many pleasurable moments
the mind did reach;
roaming the shores
of Half-Moon Bay,
naked bodies all splashed
with foaming spray;
while on hillsides
donkeys brayed.

So many wonders
of the Caribbean Sea,
feet all wet
and silver sands
on the knee,
as bleachers
and bathers
from far and near
chill-out
with their kith and kin
beneath
the trees of coconut
with water that is very clear.

Fisher folks have come
to throw their nets
as agile as ever
with no regrets
to harvest,
these flying fish

Steaming













deliciously















Floating in hot sauce

This is Bajans' delight.

They hurled those nets;
in frenzy array, so...

The aerobatics
are on disply in the air;
and the flying fish battle rages;

Callaloo plays the game
so... unfair!

Cou-cou on the stove top














dripping with okra strew...

Cou-cou done...


















Stands on plate!














Waiting for flying fish
to land,
while the wives of fishermen,
young and old
are crying every Easter morn
not knowing
what next they must do.

The war of words is too profound
For the gilded heads;
so they seek the lustre

of the ocean bed
in preparation
for...the eminent flight...

They quickly surface
the water
for viewers in sight;
leaping like a frog in midair,

then down again
with valour
and power.

These grasshoppers
of the sea now disappear...

Resurfaced again without dread...

Their pectoral fins outstretched;
they soar like a jet
the down with the nosedive,









Splash!

And they are very wet...


With submarine topography
on the ocean floor
a thousand feet below or more
such fervid flight incomplete!

For now they sleep
in a tropical ocean
that is so very deep;


Far...


Away...

From nets
and noise fishermen do keep.

© Paterika Hengreaves

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No Friendly Sky Anymore

Now we see rain clouds with thunder ahead
Our hearts still do bleed

Flashbacks bring to mind raindrops looking like zeros with tails, yes we
Remember the falling plates, knives and forks on bodies piles scattered wide for
It is there, in fiery mounds our distant family staggered, swayed and died
Evil acts rained down that autumn day, we West Indians watched on CNN
Nine-eleven changed forever our moods and fashion we do wear too
Dressed in early Halloween masquerading, these eastern demons everywhere
Lingering and mingling still, they show in covert places their sinister faces
You hide in holes your forte, like the foxking, beasts that’s what you are .

Shall we give up! Or be inspired by the heroes of the Copiapo mine?
Kin and friendly allies came out in battle under way, to capture and repair;
Yankees by George! We’ll hunt them, come morning, noon, night and day.

America to the north, America to the south firmly we stand;
Noble and true to the cause of justice for all;
You our foes will have no place to park, hide or hang your hats
Murmur to Uncle Sam we shall not, when justice-hands we shake for all when
Our forces might uproot your evil plants you plant, for we have the
Right, to fight said Bush with Blair-ing sound; we heed the bugle call;
Events of rightful fruits in arms, stars and sparkles, democracy beams US its light.

© Paterika Hengreaves

No Friendly Sky Anymore

(2011)

The people of the West Indies do mourn with thee

We have watched from the islands of the Caribbean

Glued to television sets in disbelief

The September events

And now with trace of tears still lingering

We do remember

America

We do cry with you because these evil acts

Are for all mankind too

Our hearts do bleed at the loss

Inflicted by terrorists and their boss

These thoughts that you do read

Are real and shall be our lasting nightmare

To be haunted by flashbacks

Of nine-eleven

America attacked

By a gang of more than seven

We with gaping mouths and bulging eyes

Watched planes attacked buildings and towers

Amid the horrible cries

People trapped inside the inferno

With no hope of seeing tomorrow

As their helpless friends and kin looked

To the sky in horror

Yankees and all of us have had enough

Of this terrorist band parading across their beautiful

And noble land

Dressed in garments and wearing a human face

They plotted covertly to zap

The American race

To those families with fallen people

Elsewhere

And at ground zero

America will not stand

For another judgment error

So spoke Bush Junior

And Blair-ringing in

They vowed to hit back terror

In all its shades

By George!

America will attack back

And fight terror in every nook and cranny

And there shall be no cause for you

To murmur to Uncle Sam

Justice, fair play integrated

With all our forces’ might

For in God we put our trust

Because the cause is just

And right.

Paterika Hengreaves

(September2001/Barbados)

Roses

(Acrostic in Free Verses)

Rejoice give thanks and forever sing

Open your eyes to the beauty of every flowering thing

Search the wardrobe of colourful blooms

Excursions in the mind beneath the moon

Sun and under the stars, we enjoy

(Acrostic with Pentameter Verses) 

Rejoice and give thanks to the redeemer;

Open ears to the sound of the oboe;

Search those colorful blooms beneath the sky;

Excursions in the mind we entertain;

So much wisdom keeps flowing from that sage.

(May 25, 2010)

The Reverie

She stands

beside
the quiet stream
holds lily pad
within her hand
hiding her face
from the glaring eyes
of dawn

Her mind
wanders among
the distant hills

In dreams she sees
true love surfing
floating clouds
pouring rivulets
down her cheeks

She opens her eyes
in silent prayer

She wishes
true love
would come her way

Gee Wiz!

No such thing
as true love
holding a mouse

Yet, I must say
friendships are many

Yes!

And where dreams take control
as the skewed mind
dances the cursor
chat with siggies

Laugh out loud in space

Good grief!

Animations
clad in satin and lace
massed insanity
the reverie
on the

World Wide Web

©Paterika Hengreaves
2002/Barbados

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

Wrinkles

Slowly but surely
They reveal the stories
Of love, anguish
And of the hilarious uncertainties
Of which people bump into

Mortals are seeking immortality
Some through the Divine promise
Others with vanity flair
So they skin and peel
Brush and stroke

The human anatomy
With moisturizing creams
And all kinds
Of powdered concoctions

The time travellers
With gravity pull
In cosmic action
Make their rounds
Into our homes
Uninvitingly they come
Redesigning the structure

These aliens
Weave on the skin of nerves and gore
Their tapestry of lines and curves
Transforming smiles into frowns

With clock-like dexterity and precision
They alter the mind inside

With wrinkles warping
Wasting what was
Wonderful wear
Of roses...withered, warped
We wished winkles would

Please go away!

These vampires

Shrouded with great mystery
They try to dash the hopes
Of medicine men in search
For some miracle and a cure

When wrinkles walking

All over body parts

are no more

© Paterika Hengreaves
July 2003/Barbados