Here are some poems written by Sarah Wood, a VSO volunteer in Corriverton, on life in Guyana. Corriverton is on the Eastern side of the country, next to the Surinam border. She worked on a project called GEAP (the Guyana Education Access Project). This deals improving the quality of Secondary School in Guyana.
Click on the title to view the poem. All poems and associated comments on this page are written by and copyright Sarah Wood 2000-2002.
| Scotsburg Beach |
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Bright white clouds blend to thunderous grey Cirrus high to cumulus low Rays of Sun penetrate through The rhythm of footsteps give a two beat poem Four eyes skim away from my sound Tide line showing the days debris Higher on the shore The plastic __ Remains of celebration And rice bags. Why? |
| I made up this poem whilst walking along Scotsburg beach (near Corriverton-Ed). The walking rhythm helped |
| Going Hunting? |
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Going hunting? Asked the driver Yes! Just get me conductors pass Sun not up Bus bright, ready to go Two turns round Driver in seat Conductor searching Passenger spied Caught! Cargo for New Amsterdam |
| I have travelled in many minibuses since being here. Enough said. |
| Caiman at Timberhead |
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Still, smooth bellied Would I wrestle with you Caimen? How do you spend your days? Watchful, wary, Disappearing Caimen. Do you really have wicked, evil ways? Glistening, gliding, Cold blooded caimen. Do you study the stars every night? Calculating, cautious, Listen to me Caimen. Tell me, is your solitude my plight? |
| This poem was written whilst on a VSO Education workshop at Timberhead. One night we were taken up the creek in a boat to find caimen. We saw several—the torchlight reflecting into the eyes of the caimen made the eyes red. This is the feature we saw first. |
| Saturday Night In Corriverton |
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When I come back to Corriverton I’ll try to come back as a man And why do I say this ‘cos man does what he can If I were a man At night I would walk the street And when people called me I could go and we would meet My evenings would not end early I would not be so alone I would be mixing with people I would not be on my own I would walk to Station View And pass the time of night I would play domino with others And that would be alright But as a woman My evening time Is spent writing poems That have to rhyme My conversation on cooking and crochet Is limited to the extent That I do not want to spend evenings Expanding on such an event If I come back to Corriverton I will come back as a man And lime away ‘til morning I’ll do this if I can |
| This poem was written very quickly after another lonely Saturday night in Corriverton. |
| The Moon |
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Features stand out with shadowy length The Sun eases down light loses strength A signal to people, night has begun Today is closed, prepare for time without Sun Persons identified by outline or place A key to recognition, the look of a face Does not work in this darkness Voice and shape take on sharpness And then a different light reflects a sheen Not from a match or candle fly or kerosene Orealla, The Moon is up tonight For you to use until daylight. |
| I wrote this poem after doing some training with the teachers at Orealla. We stayed at The Government Guest House. At night we used to walk down the main drag to the village and sit outside having a drink. The moon coming up made all the difference. |
| The Coconut Tree |
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I wonder why Your head is so high Are you trying to touch the sky? Or is the reason more mysterious A coordinated plan O so serious Are you positioned so lofty and tall To help you look out and see all? If I turn my head through a few degrees What do I notice? Coconut trees Wearing a uniform of dark, rich green Although there is variation on that core theme In height, in bend in the number of leaves Radiating out from that core of seeds. Each grouping has a reason, a strategy, a plan To safeguard against invasion from outside man In ragged ranks you line the coast Sentries on duty, a responsible post You congregate in casual groups off duty now, stand easy troops Or as forests in formation Disguising yourselves as a plantation Or - standing alone, sent out on a mission Observing, monitoring, surveying the condition And then – your leaves, now don’t deceive That’s not movement in harmony with breeze But a signal, a code of semaphore A communication system from the borders to the shore I know that you’re a multipurpose tree And one of your functions is to oversee Another to assist people in their bid to be free Keep waving goodbye as they leave the country. |
| There are plenty of coconut trees in The Corentyne. They seem such a strange but useful tree. I was told that they are not indigenous to Guyana and yet they are so plentiful. |
| Dear Guyana |
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Dear Guyana, Can I ask why you are here? I’m here because the Amerindians came They came down through the North American plain. And then, the Spanish, they came too. I believe they came for material gain. They were hotly pursued - by other Europeans, Coming to convert, make profit and control. They took what they could but now they’ve gone, Exploiting me then moving on. They brought the Africans and indentured as well. Now there’s more poetry. Can I tell? Dear Guyana, Can I ask, will you stay. I don’t quite know, people leave each day. Aid projects come now but they don’t know, My spirit, my soul, so I might have to go. And anyway, colonizers did no stake, A claim on boundaries, to Guyana make. So it might be Border countries are free, To take a few parts of me. Furthermore, the Atlantic is higher than I. bits will disappear, ask a scientist why. So will I go or will I stay. It’s up to people I would say. |
| About Guyana |
| Dfidation |
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In development there are five vital letters sounding “ation.” This sound is used to help a nation. To use this sound take a verb, say – to replicate, Add an “ation” and a noun you make. So, you take the verb and add an “ation” Make a noun and write it down! It’s easy! Replicate – replication, Educate – education, Procrastinate – procrastination, Eliminate – elimination. Thus you can lead to the salvation Of a less developed nation! |
| I have found it difficult to understand some of the more centralised aspects of the project. Words fail me, I cannot say anymore |
| Sugar Words |
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Sweet, soft, crystalline sugar Tall, green, lordly cane Sugar love, honey, candy, treat me. Toil, sweat, thirst and pain. |
| During the August holiday of the year 2000. GEAP organised a summer school programme for children who had finished their primary education. The children were asked to write poems about sugar. Before they wrote their poems they tasted sweets and were taken out to the cane field. Established poets work on sugar and cane was read to them. This is my attempt. |
| I’ll remember you Rocky |
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I’ll remember you Rocky For your poison, suicide death I’d have liked to have met you. Rocky, there must be easier ways. |
| I became ill and had to spend a couple of night at St Joseph Mercy Hospital. As I was waiting in a cubicle to be seen by a doctor. Rocky, the young man in the next cubicle died after swallowing poison. |
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