Humanities: Spoken Word/ Afri American; The Triolet

Cries From the Tombs of Haiti

I looked to our rising hills and
saw great soldiers marching in
heaving dead on their crystal bones and
i looked to our rising hills and
feared lord had forsaken the living and
as time faintly died in the morning
I looked to our rising hills and
saw great soldiers marching in.


No more Whiplash For Haiti

rain, wind, wash, splash
mother nature with another whiplash
folding and molding, loud crash!
Rain, wind, wash, splash
lonely infant vacant calabash
homes swallowed in a mishap
rain, wind, wash, splash
mother nature with another whiplash.



Masquerade

Humans in gesticulation
incarnate colonial slumber.
Through robotic fixation
humans in gesticulation
throw doubloons with blind caution,
transcending plantation order
humans in gesticulation
incarnate colonial slumber.



A Libation at the Bayou.

God sent a baptism to unearth
the captured souls of the bayou.
Weeping mortals seeking worth
God sent a baptism to unearth
structures of fallacious mirth.
Shackled blood can now bid adieu
God sent a baptism to unearth
the captured souls of the bayou.



From a Condors Vantage Point

Aging flesh of the dead
collide with fierce cries of the living.
Green giants behead
aging flesh of the dead.
Water and land spread
with threatening doom upon the living
Aging flesh of the dead
collide with fierce cries of the living.



Wailing Santiago

Do you hear the Copihue?
Do you hear the Copihue?
Her crimson flesh decays,
do you hear the Copihue
Her solemn neck hangs lower today
for the children of Chile.
Do you hear the Copihue?
Do you hear the Copihue?


By far my most difficult traditional verse...because of the restriction and also the instructed format that was necessary to follow.
But i can see some growth in my writing and that's a plus! (?)