Laughter is good for the soul. I wrote this poem in college, I would like to share it with you. It is about a dead person, that I imagine walking in London- it's all about my imagination. " Duppy" means spirit. It is away of speaking Jamaican's Patios .
Love you. read and be happy. Those of you who are in creative writing class are free to use this poem. As follows:
CatherineTaylor
Advance Poetry
October 26, 2010
DREAM DEAD MAMA
WALKING
“Dead Mama Walking in London Town”
My mama is not dead,
she is just somewhere getting
A nap with somebody she loves, who I do not know.
I hope it is not with
Frankenstein. Somebody say that they
saw my
Dead mama walking in
London Town, carrying a huge rock on her head.
Alternatively, some hard rock like what Moses strikes when
he was
In the wilderness, with his people out of Egypt from
slavery,
They got angry with
him bringing them out of Egypt to suffer.
While he was talking
to God on Mount Sinai, about the Ten Commandments
Oh well somebody better let me know how a dead woman can carry
a rock
On her head, men this makes me laugh like Jamaican “Duppy”
They laughed “kicky, kicky” They want to make up story like
make up strips
On my mama, who risk her life to save my child, who was
running into?
A car on the highway to catch a black wild cat, which scares
the hell out
Of me. Next thing they say, my dead mama was in the Queens
Palace
Wearing a white Barrister wig dining with the Queen eating
swine
Meat and drinking coconut water
Her eyes shining like
pure gold looks more like the gold
The Europeans stole from the Africans from the gold
Cost of Africa, which sounds absurd, it is not real to be
going
Around building up scandal on a dead woman head, she rose
from the
Dead/ she is not Lazarus that Christ calls forth from the
grave
She is a dead mama, these people who talking that they
seeing mamma
Do not even know how to walk to London Town; they are afraid
of the stars
In the sky at night, Alexander her son would go crazy if he
hears all this mess.
About mama walking through London carrying stone on her dead
head
Everyone in my family hearing, hearing, all what’s happening
Another person says that they see mama, running and
branching in
America, that muttonhead has no knowledge of what they are
talking about
My mama is not dead she is just somewhere taking a nap with
somebody she loves.
She is awesome-she inspired me to write poems.
