Poems by Janet Jagan
Freedom Marchers
Freedom March
Marchers for Freedom
Feet sore, swollen toes, blistered
By the hot, rocky road.Eyes red with dust, hair dry, dust stuck
Heads high, lips tight
With conviction
Hearts fired for freedomOn we march
Mile over dust filled mile
Each step a cry
To free our comrades
Chained, chained
By those who say no to freedom.Our feet will free them
Our cries will unbind them
March! March!
Freedom Marchers.Copyright © Nadira Jagan-Brancier 2009
Little Spur Wing
On a paddy stalk
Hear your voice ring
As you chatter and talk.In and out of the paddy fields
Over and through the trees and bush
Your voice louder than the others
As you shout, quarrel and sing.Little Spur Wing
Come home with me
I want a friend like you
To play with and keep me company.Copyright © Nadira Jagan-Brancier 2009
The hum of ten thousand locusts
The infinity of greenness
The sweet virgin smell of the forest
The perpetual bumping
And jerking of the lorry
The hope and promises of the hinterland
As we crash through the Potaro RoadCopyright © Nadira Jagan-Brancier 2009