Wed | Feb 26, 2020


Published:Sunday | February 2, 2020 | 12:27 AM

The End

Isn’t it sad when a writer can’t find the words to write,

When a fighter can’t find the will to fight,

When the sun has lost its light, its shine, its hope,

When the moon is hidden and your life’s a downward slope,

Isn’t it sad that the strong no longer has strength,

And your escape is no more, no more do you have ways to vent,

Isn’t it sad that the person you thought you were is just a fragment of your imagination,

And the life you’ve lived is a dream; you’re a shell of the once beautiful creation,

A body with only skin and bones, no insides, no vitality,

I am human, no; I’m nothing in reality,

You’ve been torn apart, bit by bit,

You’re broken, your fire no longer lit,

There is no use looking there is nothing left,

You’re too far down, out of your depth,

Go ahead let life do as it may, for in the end I’m just a writer with no words to say.

– Chenelle Paharsingh

Mango Sweet

“Will you have a mango from my pail?”

Asked the slug of the nightingale.

“They are refreshing, cool and golden sweet inside.

Though greenish, yellow or purple on the outside.”

Mango sweet, mango fine,

Mango, best fruit in summer time!

“Join me in perfect harmony without fail,”

Jovially sang the flighty nightingale.

‘I’ll you my dinner kindly delay,

If you will sing with me this roundelay,”

Mango sweet, mango fine

Mango, best fruit on which to dine!

The king-klings, black birds so regal,

Noisily joined in the madrigal.

With the picharies singing soprano.

And the farm hens a cheerful alto.

Mango sweet, mango fine.

Mango, best fruit of all in line!

The geese with the pig went a dancing prim,

The parrot chuckled from a lower limb.

A mongoose quietly crept by without looking,

While a mouse with his whiskers was conducting.

Mango sweet, mango fine.

Mango, best friendly eating prime!

There goes a donkey with hamper fruit laden,

A boy sits atop with a mango half-eaten.

A horse snorts and happily neighs

He has eaten a quota to last many days.

Mango sweet, mango fine,

Mango, best fruit you can find!

There goes to market a lusty youth,

He bears a big bag of the golden fruit.

A dollar a dozen, two dollars a dish.

With the Midas touch, he hopes to get rich.

Mango sweet, mango fine

Mango, you can’t get one for a dime!

Granma comes a running, despite her arthritis,

Granpa behind her is wobbling with laryngitis.

To be left out they will not be let,

Mango for dinner or nothing they are set.

Mango sweet, mango fine

Mango, best fruit at dinner time.

The busy bees buzz at a flower.

But mango is the sweet choice of nectar.

Shrill the cicadas with an hoarse old frog,

Eating a mango on a mossy log.

Mango sweet, mango fine.

Mango, our juicy fruit divine.

Some gambolling girls and chattering boys

Are caressing mangoes like Christmas toys.

The kiss of the sun dries the juice on their cheek.

The golden juice paints yellow on their teeth.

Mango sweet, mango fine

Mango, best fruit in summer time.

One day, an old poet sat in his rickety chair decrepit,

He was watching a mango eating rabbit.

About mango he decided to write,

Yeah, before bright day turned into dull night.

Mango sweet, mango fine

Mango, to poetize into a gold mine!

Hey! Pineapples, banana, apples and pear.

Altogether with a juicy mango can’t compare.

Sugar and lime in lemonade, melon

In a single mango the taste is a million.

Mango sweet, mango fine.

Mango, best of fruits in summer time.

And he wondered and pondered how

There was a time like here and now.

When a jaunty lad and a maiden free,

Met in love beneath a mango tree.

Mango sweet, mango fine,

Mango, best of fruits in summer time

– Oren Cousins


Of course he was not perfect!

Yet, what Kobe Bryant did

Was to have attached great purpose to the life

He had elected to live.

He had set his primary goal from early

And worked towards amassing scores.

Complacency was, in fact, revolted

Because his achievement opened doors!

Resilience, hard work, focus, aim,

Each was vital to his game.

Backed by fans and dear ones,

‘The Black Mamba’ scored and soared to fame!

Tears will not alleviate the shock and pain

Within the hearts of those who mourn

The transition of his child – Gianna

And the man who scored!

Nonetheless, their time had come.

Their souls were not touched by the flames.

Nor will they be soon forgotten

Since neither lived in vain.

So, Kobe played the game of life and made his name

Until that helicopter hollered –

‘Time Out’!

And pulled him, his daughter “G G”, and seven others

From this plane.

Sporting ‘24’ or ‘8’

And for his daughter – ‘2’

Tongues and hearts are saying –

“We continue to love you!”

Kobe e Gianna, riposatevi!

Kobe and Gianna, rest well!

– Erica Marriott