Posted on 3 Comments on Tabanca

Tabanca

I have a tabanca.
I miss the warmth,
The sunshine,
The shade of green,
I miss the freedom that comes
With knowing exactly where you’re going
‘Cause is there you born and raise,
I miss the kiskadee song in the day
And the cricket chorus at night.
I miss the twelve hours of sun,
I miss the sno cone,
I miss the red mango.
I miss the soca
And the piccong,
I miss St James 
And the way it’s
Never at rest.
I miss the view
Of the city from
Lady Young Road,
I miss the renegade
Poui trees that decide
Now is the time to bloom,
I miss the hibiscus.
I miss the way
You know Christmas coming
Due to the smell of paint
And the new curtains,
I miss the sound of rain
On a galvanize roof,
I miss home.
Posted on 2 Comments on Flash Fiction Friday #34: The Traveller

Flash Fiction Friday #34: The Traveller

So i decided to play a lil ambitious with this one, i wanted to get an epic poem feel, then i kinda didn’t feel like settling down to write, hence the delay. not sure if i’m completely satisfied with the end result, but i certainly don’t hate it.
i could have gone subtle with the words but i decided against it.

The traveller had been warned against this route
Though it promised to be quicker.
Brave,
Strong,
Could survive anything
that was thrown at him,
Was his boast,
Though the weariness that licked his feet,
The hunger, his belly,
And the cold, his back,
Threatened to prove him wrong.
Before he could regret his pride,
In the distance appeared a light,
Luck was still at his side.
He made it to the door
and knocked thrice upon it.
It was opened to reveal
A kindly old widower
Who offered,
In return for his company,
Free lodging and even fare for the night.
Once inside and warm,
With promises of food to follow,
Our traveller settled to listen
To the old man’s yarn.
He spoke quite fondly
Of days that had been too long past,
And lovers long dead,
And the ways things 
Should have turned out instead.
When the traveller received
His warm meat
And cold ale,
He proposed a toast
To warm feet,
A good roast,
And goodwill to all men.
When our traveller awoke
By the light of the dawn,
His benevolent host
Was no where to be found.
The room was far less attractive
Without the light of the fire,
And the hearth seemed
Too cold for a flame
Only hours expired.
Nonetheless he gathered
His effects and dusted his coat,
And continued his journey
To where he was bound.
Only when he was
Well along his way
Did it occur for him to wonder,
That perhaps his host wasn’t human,
Perhaps his host was a ghost.
Posted on 1 Comment on Days Like This

Days Like This

Days like this are the worst.
Days where I stumble around
In states of undress;
Listlessness has made me hot.
Days like this I wish
I’d taken up smoking.
At least it would give me
Something to do
With my hands,
My mouth,
My lungs,
Least the Devil
Seeks to employ me
With his other idle souls,
While I wait
For the universe,
Fate,
Destiny,
To figure out what to do with me…
Days like this are the worst. 
Posted on 1 Comment on Flash Fiction Friday #33: Rendez-vous S’il Vous Plait

Flash Fiction Friday #33: Rendez-vous S’il Vous Plait

clearly i am not stickin with this one 🙂

She clutched her coat more tightly to her body in a futile effort to shut out the cold rain. It was assignments like these that made her long for home, or at least to be sent somewhere tropical. She crossed the empty street, careful not to slip on the slick cobblestones and entered a small tea parlor with dusty cakes in the window. She chose a seat in the corner of the shop and hung her wet coat on the back of the wrought-iron chair. She shivered slightly as she removed a bright red handkerchief from her bag and began to dry herself off with it. The waitress spotted her and brought extra napkins along with her pot of tea. She smiled gratefully and accepted them. Hopefully her show had been enough. 
 She sipped her tea gently, and soon a man with a watch with a band designed like a bicycle chain approached her table with a grin. “Maggie!” he exclaimed. “It’s been too long!”
Her trigger had worked and here was her contact, exactly as she had been told he would be.
 “Jonathan! I know!” She rose to embrace him. One of the first thing she had to do when she started out in this job was get over her fear of hugging strangers. “Have a seat,” she added, while taking her own. After they’d spent the next half hour trading made-up updates on their imaginary families, Jonathan looked his watch. “It’s getting a bit late, shall I escort you to the train station?”
 They left the parlor with linked arms and began their short stroll to the station, seeming to all the world like a pair of lovers. At the station he pulled a small box, about twice the size of a matchbox and thrust it into her hands. “Happy birthday,” he said, and kissed her on the cheek. They hugged again, then she boarded her train. As the train started up she saw him whip out his phone to alert his superiors.
 On the train she sat alone and secured the box in a compartment of her bag. The rendezvous and collection had been a success. Though she still had the boarder to cross, she expected smooth sailing from then on. She made herself comfortable and looked out the window. She took a moment for self-satisfaction. She’d done well, career-wise. After all, she was being paid to take a free trip half way across the world to drink tea and fetch a matchbox. It had even stopped raining.
Posted on No Comments on Flash Fiction Fridays

Flash Fiction Fridays

So this just occurred to me. Since I have all the fff triggers, i could share them with my readers! (readers oui…. sometimes i amuse myself).
if one choses to do so, you can link back to me, and you should link back to Elisha’s blog sweet trini’s urban folk tales, since she’s the lovely lady who instigates these particular fffs and it’s nice to know people paying attention.


here they are in all their reverse-chronological glory:


fff#33: (inclusion) wet, match, chain, trigger, rendezvous
fff#32: (starter) i/he/she/it/we/they took everything
fff#31: (idea inclusion) egg(s), witch, cave.
fff#30: (idea inclusion) snakecharmer, citrus, book(s)
fff#29: (starter) as much/little as…
fff#28: (inclusion) rebellion, fox, strange, mirror, pleasure
fff#27: (inclusion) lush, plush, brush, hush, gush
fff#26: (inclusion) rack, pack, track, crack, slack
fff#25: (inclusion) those who mind don’t matter; those who matter don’t mind
fff#24: (inclusion) earlobe, wrist, lip, knuckle, eye
fff#23: (inclusion) wrinkle, heavy, space, light, time
fff#22: (starter) when I drink
fff#21: (starter) it wasn’t how fresh
fff#20: (inclusion) sunny, sandy, wet, warm, limp
fff#19: (inclusion) pleasure, pain, sweet, dark, trouble
fff#18: (inclusion) dance, glance, trance, prance, pants
fff#17: (starter) the rules of engagement
fff#16: (inclusion) smoke, joke, broke, folk, yolk
fff#15: (Inclusion) mind, find, blind, kind, dined
fff#14: (starter) no current
fff#13: (starter) sweating profusely
fff#12: (inclusion) prick, flick, trick, slick, thick
fff#11: (inclusion) block, clock, frock, rock, flock
fff#10: (inclusion) dirtier, messier, sloppier, wetter, read
fff#9: (Inclusion) all that was left was/were 
fff#8: (inclusion) gun, tonne, fun, plum, drum
fff#7: (inclusion) the only word the voice on the phone said was
fff#6: (inclusion) It was the eighth deadly
fff#5: (inclusion) flake, rake, break, stake, snake
fff#4: (starter) Freakishly large hands reached out toward
fff#3: (Starter) They never could get that right
fff#2: (inclusion) crumb, bum, thumb, rum, dumb
fff#1: (starter) it was the smell of cinnamon

sweet trini’s rules are thus:
rules of engagement:
you will send in your suggestions for flash fiction friday triggers (starter sentences/phrases, closers, titles, inclusions, etc.) anytime during the week up to 11.55a.m. friday, trinbago timezone; i will post the new fff trigger by noon friday trinbago timezone.*
if your trigger is not chosen and you think it is too brilliant not to be chosen, you will send it in again the next week.
you will write an anecdote, short story, or novel length prose poem using the trigger provided.
you will add comments and appropriate linkage to my trigger-post indicating your desire to participate and the completion of your piece (don’t need a blogger/gmail account to comment on my blog).
you may join in at any time prior to the deadline.*
you will display your piece as a post on your own blog (or as a comment on my trigger-post or fasbook note or whatever, once we can all read it- please make sure we can all access the link to read it, not just those who are your friends on fasbook; there’s a way to create public links for that, right?).
you will be done by monday noon trinbago timezone.*[in light of collective busyness and my general mentality, i not pressed about these deadlines ’cause i’d rather have fun reading late than never, so if you want to fff past deadline, go through hard, just make sure you comment on the appropriate trigger-post so we know which it belongs to, and if is a real old trigger, comment on the most recent post as well so we know something new to back-back+read…if nobody fffs i’ll leave the same trigger up until at least 1person other than myself writes a piece]*

nicesness. now everybody can write some 🙂
have fun!
Posted on 2 Comments on Flash Fiction Friday #32: Teacher’s Pet

Flash Fiction Friday #32: Teacher’s Pet

eugh. finally. this one did not want to be written at all, and hence, i don’t like it very much. but it’s the only way i can get fff#33. 
(and for those who catch on…. ahem… doh make it out please :P)

 She took everything mundane about our classes and spritzed it with her flowery perfume. Most of the boys where enthralled by Ms Bell. The ones in the upper classes attempted to wow her with their newfound charms. Us younger ones just blushed when she asked us questions and tried to impress her by either being very bad, or very good.
 She rolled her Rs beautifully, and once she sang us a Spanish lullaby in her sweet, lilting voice. For me, she was an angel in my history of all male teachers and she begun my transition from boy to man. 
 She left after a year, not because she was a bad teacher, but because she was going back to school. My next Spanish teacher was the very old, very wrinkled, very surly Mrs Jones, but my love of the language had been very securely cemented and not even Mrs Jones’ perpetual grouchiness could waver it.
 I hadn’t given Ms Bell much thought for years when one day while I was in the office with a class mate I saw her. I went up to her and stumbled out a quick introduction.
 “You mightn’t remember me Miss, but I was in your form one class and-” I rattled.
She interrupted me. “Of course I remember you Jason.” I was twelve again, knees shaking and blushing like mad just from her words and her charming smile. Some things never changed.
Posted on No Comments on The Little Things

The Little Things

It’s the little things
that make me think of you.
(the smell of stale smoke,
brushing my hair,
the way the boy at the corner stood
as he waited for a bus).
When they come,
as thoughts often do,
I’ll inhale,
try to still my heart,
flush the thoughts away,
Of course it never works,
but I can’t help but try,
and maybe one day
the little things
will be just that:
things.

Posted on No Comments on Trinidad, A Love Letter

Trinidad, A Love Letter

 Tobago, I’m sorry, but you aren’t included in this letter. You are so wonderful and special and you deserve your own letter, but I am not the person to write it.
Dear Trinidad,
I love you. I love the curve of your coasts, I love the hills and swamps and landmarks that dot your form like freckles, I love the way the greens of the flora and the colours of the flowers take you and I love the way your accent dances across sentences and sings everything you say.
 You’re so talented and creative and intelligent, and you bring all that talent, creativity and intelligence to everything you do. Your art, music, books and poetry move me, mind body and soul. I love how resourceful you are, the way you take the mundane and make it extraordinary and uniquely yours. I love the way you cook, so savory, so spicy, so flavourful, each bite, ambrosia, (my mouth waters just thinking about it).
 All that being said, Trinidad, you aren’t perfect. You think you’re invincible, but you’re not. All the beauty you possess will not last if you don’t take care of it. Nor will the resources you were blessed with last forever. I wish you wouldn’t let pride blind you. God may be a Trini, but that doesn’t mean you can do as you please without consequences. The fact that you are so amazing and wonderful doesn’t mean you should disregard the culture of others; they are equally important as yours.
 It’s a big world out there, and it’s easy for a small island to get lost in the fray. Resist the lure of following all the “developed” nations, action for action, instead learn from their mistakes and go from there. Following their lead blindly will only lead to ruin. You have the ingenuity, creativity, passion and resources to bring change in this world, a change that will only come if you do things your own special way.
With love,
A Citizen.