Sign up to our newsletter
Now we're up on the edge
and over, on the mountain
with mountains beyond. Behind us,
in the dark
of the valley, villages are embers
My Gran was a Caribbean ladyAs Caribbean as could beShe came across to visit usIn Shoreham by the sea.
There is a place (believe me,
she said) where if, if
you go beyond
the street lights, to the lane's end,
Nobody knows what Jonjo knows. Nobody knows but he,So Jonjo took me for a walk and showed his world to me.
Spices and gold once cast a spellOn bearded men in caravels.
New World New World cried historyOld World Old World sighed every tree.
...not white like the snow
more moon-panther or silvery cloud-cat
with her ripple-patterns melting as (oh,
but she's beautiful) you stare
Thomas Farynor, Baker to the King,Left his oven burning with the firewood nearby.The embers muttered, the little flames took wing
We don' have a Springtime like some folkWho live in dem colder place,but we have a time when de soft rain come,an' tease open de seedcase
I spied a small lonely boy.I was his beautiful red balloon,from morning through to noon,