Island Man.

I am just replying to Ms. P's post about a poem we read in class today.

Island Man poem.

Island Man (for a Caribbean island man in London who still wakes up the sound of the sea)
by Grace Nichols

Morning
and island man wakes up
to the sound of blue surfin his head
the steady breaking and wombing
wild seabirdsand fishermen pushing out to sea
the sun surfacing defiantlyfrom the east
of his small emerald island

He always comes back
groggily groggily
comes back to sands
of a grey metallic soar
to a surge of wheels
to dull North Circular roar
muffling muffling
his crumpled pillow waves
island man heaves himself
another London day

 

I would like to wake up and find myself in the most mysterious place on earth.

I want it to be peaceful. A place where there's no hate and no two faced.

I would want it to be full of people, with wide smiles on their faces from the bottom of their heart. Real happiness; nothing can replace it.A place full of love, a place where it's OK to be different and not be made fun off.

A place where the sun rises, and feeds people's bodies with energy and brightness.

A place where there is no darkness.