FEATURED POEMS

MIRACLES

© 1987 Norman Samuda-Smith

 

Children say a likkle prayer, every night before you go to sleep.

Coz tomorrow is promised to no one, even when you think there’s peace and safety…

               This poem is a prayer…

We hear about Miracles that happen every day.  Yet nuff people complain that they don’t come their way.  But if they touched me, like how dreams touch you in the night.  I can see nuff miracles needed to make our world right.

A cure for all diseases, pray to H.I.M, the most high.  Fling weh nuclear weapons and throw love inna de sky.  Send scientific experts to Africa, to help irrigate the land.  Put an end to war, and show all races they should walk hand in hand.

We prayed for President Botha to flee; and for his regime to set Nelson Mandela free.  After all, we knew our brothers and sisters in South Africa, deserved respect and dignity.

What this world needs is for all Jah-Jah’s children to be wise and strong, reasoning before they leap, living long.

Now some of these things were once foretold, by the man, Isaiah, first prophet of old…

So yuh nuh…

We hear about Miracles that happen every day.  Still, nuff people complain that they don’t come their way.  But if they touched me, like how dreams touch you in the night.  I can see many many miracles needed to make our world right.

 Amen.

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I’m Begging You

© 2006 Norman Samuda-Smith

 

Please don’t sacrifice a glance and then turn away, or look at me from head to toe and shake your head in dismay.  All I’m asking for is some spare change, nothing more, nothing less to alleviate me from this situation of helplessness.

I’m not here by choice; which is why, when you see me, I want you to please remember that I’m human too.  I smile, I cry, I have feelings just like you.  This is why it hurts deep down; that when you see my outstretched hand, so withered and frail, you still view me as though I’m either frightening or strange.

But please try to understand that I mean no harm.  It’s not my intention to encourage pity, disgust or alarm.  I have no exit from this vicious cycle…without a job, no home…without a home, no job…and so it goes on.  The street is my home.  Sometimes I too am scared and lonely.  So, passer-by, I’m begging you, I’m asking you…well, it’s hard to explain…

I’ll continually pray that one day, some day, my God will provide the answer of how I can put an end to this predicament I’m in.  I must keep believing, I HAVE to keep believing that there is hope, a light at the end of this dark tunnel of life.  Cos if I stop believing, then I have nothing to hold on to; nothing to exist for.  My worldly possessions are the shreds of clothing I’m wearing and the strength in my soul has such essence…

This my friend is why I’m begging you, not merely to throw a penny or two my way and then scurry away; but at the very least to try to understand just what it is that I’m begging you to do.

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Life’s A Game

© 2006 Norman Samuda-Smith

 

I’m living in the inner-city everyday

Earning a meagre income the 9 to 5 way

I got my hands in my pockets, there’s no money to spend

That’s when you know, you got no friends

I’m holding onto my job to pay my rent

Am I living in the land of the heaven sent?

 

I’m being cool, trying to stay sane

Don’t yah know, that life’s a game

Life’s a game y’all

 

My long time relationship, has reached its end

My woman, she run off with my so-call friend

I knew she was acting strange and funny

She kept going on and on about money

In everything I do, I try to be correct

Maybe I’m being too select

 

But I’m being cool, trying to stay sane

Hey, don’t yah know, that life’s a game

Life’s a game y’all

 

Now listen…

The moral of this story has to be told

All that glitters, isn’t gold

When a man is down and out of luck

Stretch forth your hand and pick him up

Tables turn and this is true

You may find out, it could be you

Trying to be cool, trying to stay sane

Let me tell unnu, don’t yah know, that life’s a game

Life’s a game y’all

I’m outta here!

 

*All rights reserved.  No part of these poems may be reproduced in any form or by any means without prior written permission of the writer Norman Samuda-Smith.*