By Grace M. Brodhurst-Davis
Belize…
Unlike
the wide Sargasso Sea
(its
fertile underground),
lies
in the seat of the soul
No
rumors, of water it abounds
Its
birds of paradise,
the
sounds of poetry
in
your dreams,
belong
to me
My
borderlands -la frontera
The
violent bear it away
I
taste the wine of astonishment
Such
free fire –a raisin in the sun
Things
fall apart at
the
dyer’s hand
Brother,
I’m dying
I
see the forgotten waltz
The
sugar solution:
three
cups of tea, as
fair
and tender ladies
praisesong
for the widow –Belize
Little
big minds rise above
incidents
in the life of a slave girl,
member
of the whipping club,
in
search of lost time
A
return to the native land
through
the book of awakening
Geography
III on the banks
of
Plum Creek -I’m freed
A
new dawn on rocky ridge
opens
the kingdom of this world within
-not
unlike a history of Latin America
My
childhood: A history of Belize
Found poem, prepared and based on book titles (and book spines) for Tweetspeak Poetry's August Rain Theme/Project:
