Joanne John





I eat passion

for breakfast.

Blood red strawberries

on smooth, white, cream.


Lunch is passion

laid out

on lush green grass

under wide, indigo sky


Passion is dinner.

Bone china perfect

A candlelight duet

On delicate crystal





Shoeless were our souls

Dancing on the edge

Costumed hearts

Laughing at tomorrow



San Fernando Holiday


“Girl, how you look so pale”

Tante say, sleek arms outstretched.

“you come for some sun

to smooth out your skin

to kink up your hair

to warm up your heart.”


“Mammy, is that your girl”

rastaman say, dreads shining black with oil

“she come for coconut, paw-paw, soursop

she look so fine

in she African hat

she look like you.”


“Sweetie, that's my girl”

loverboy say, face slack with lust

“you come to dance

to whine up your waist

to twist up my mind

to free up your soul.”



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Sentinel Poetry (Online) #46

The International Journal of Poetry & Graphics...since 2002                  

ISSN 1479-425X

Editor: Amatoritsero Ede

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