As mi body wasn’t all dat, an’ on it, mi coulda hardly depen’

But as Ah was climbing de ageing escalator

Ah thought Ah would like fi bear fruits now, rather than later

Dem check mi an’ say, gal sinting mus’ be wrong wid yu

Pints o’ blood and x-rays, wi’ no longer know wha’ fi do!

Mrs B, dis might be hard for yu to believe

But it look like it goin’ difficult fi yu conceive

Some say…try go ‘pon yu head top

Some say…no…yu fi try de belly flop

Ah gwaan like a deh listen, but Ah immediately dismiss

All dem piaw-piaw advice and suspicious foolishness

For de Holy Spirit say wait thou ye ‘pon God

Yu Fawda wi’ full yu belly an’ mek yu ever glad

So one night when de Spirit urge mi, Ah go look fi mi husban’

Ah chups him so ‘im wake an’ say darlin’ mek wi bond…

From: Tales, Praises & Spiritual Rhymes- Pheonia Bailey copyright 2009

There’s comfort in knowing, that God is still in control

Though hard to accept, it’s nothing we can change

For now your life has been pulled, far, from our range

And while you sleep, we’re left to weep

Weep,

For the loss of a precious son,

A beloved brother

A loyal friend

And a loving father

We may never have told you, all we may now like to say

Because we took it for granted

         that you’d be near to us each day

Suffice to say, to us, you never truly belonged

But it still somehow feels that we have been so wronged

For while you sleep, we’re left to weep…

From : Tales, Praises & Spiritual Rhymes- Pheonia Bailey copyright 2009

A stench subtly arises and plays havoc on the senses

In the midst of innocence, it is covered by pretence

As it riles its way into history and time,

                         attacking all the tenses

For it causes the vulnerable to be scarred in his past

Pausing his today, until tomorrow comes at last!

But even then, he’s pushed into fast forward

For the young swiftly becomes old

Although the knowledge gathered, will hardly be shared

                                  or maybe even told

But what do you do when the picket fences fall

And is replaced by an unknown and dark concrete wall

That no longer reflects Barbie, or her house in all its beauty

But rather seeks to hide the unfriendly, the uncomely  and unsightly?

What do you say to him who’s so vulnerable

Yet has had to suffer those things so gross and unspeakable?

When the fast forward is pushed

And the young swiftly becomes old

Will the knowledge gathered be shared,

                           or could it now

                            could it now… be told???

From: Tales Praises & Spiritual Rhymes- by Pheonia Bailey copyright 2009