Sat | Oct 19, 2019


Published:Sunday | December 23, 2018 | 12:00 AM


Christmas in J. A. 1980 something:

Irie vibes, with the Christmas breeze

And gungo rice and peas.

The American Santa would be touching down

Soon, with Rudolph and the crew.

And the little girl had pictures of a rocking pony

a fire engine, a red remote controlled

racing car, in her head.

But an auntie, ruined it

when she said; there is no Santa,

everything has been commercialised.

And the air reined thousands of lemons

as the Christmas train screeched to a halt.

- Ann Margaret Lim



The lights are bright

the streets

are full of property

but people






And a kiss


than cash

Helen-Ann Elizabeth

In Memoriam

"Meet me by the river someday.

Meet me by the river not far away."**

The heart of a father never dies

His love resonates in memories

The words of a father shape lives

Their effect lies in the peace they give

The legacy of a father is his children

He builds it daily as he moulds and instructs

The influence of a father is like a bridge

Spanning the chasm of generations

The presence of a father reflects God

A provider, a mentor, protector and friend

Even in death there is no separation

In Christ there is a promise of reunion

With father not long passed

We send him ahead singing the song

"Meet me by the river someday.

Meet me by the river not far away."

*Traditional song. Author unknown

Annika S. Rowe

Song for Aba D

You visualised yourself

Walking in the stream in silence

Never splashing the water, never

Trampling the lilies

Only gently displacing the

Pebbles as you amble

In solitude, by yourself,


So much time spent in tending

The flock, potting the plants, planting

The seeds that would grow the trees

Upon which your head would rest at the

End of the endless journey when there

Would be no more pain, no more anguish,

No more suffering, no more uncertainty

Only the fragments of your love remaining

In the hearts of those you embraced.

You walked in splendour in the moon-lit night

Never fearing the dark, never lamenting the

Day's heavy load, only smelling the sweet

Essence of the early morning jasmine while

Holding back the tears masked in petals of Laughter.

Yet as the uncharted days shortened you

Clung to the words, songs and melodies,

That paved the way for tomorrow's mission.

You walked in silence like the passage of time,

Endlessly, now and then stumbling, but always

Ready to reach out and comfort the fallen

From the chilling winds of being

And now as the years descend and you defiantly

Stride into the unknown days of expectations

Let us embrace one more time at last and say


For cousin Aba (Dawes) Polson

N. Augustus Richards