The Accused Poet Poem by Marguerite Anderson

What do you mean
that my poems aren't Jamaican?
Were you there with me in Waterhouse
When hunger lick mi shut but
Ms Eddie granpicknie who was taught
To keep pride in her stride
Never beg nuhbaddie?
But instead
At lunchtime shi leave her classroom and head
To di playfield at Balmagie
And there she walked round and round
The expanse
Kicking stones to kill the noise of the rumbling chime
In har belly
While from time to time taking a glance
To see if anybody notice
How depravity left her feeling
Hopeless!

What do you mean
That my poems don't sound Jamaican?
Soh Jamaican's nuh talk English, tuh?
Since when Jamaica ah nuh English-Speaking country?
Missis, mi nuh know ah wha duh yuh!
Mi waa know if my Jamaican authenticity
Lies only in my tongue
Soh because mi chat Standard English
Yuh come accuse mi
Come ah tell mi dat
Mi can't be part of the fraternity.

Blame it on my bourgeoisie grandmodda
Countless days, we had nothing to eat
But the one thing she fed me on was words
Yes, proper grammar, proper diction
That is what Mama teach.
What a retrograde stance you now take
As society watch our nation's children
Struggling to make the English grade.
Nuttin inna dat fi celebrate!

Soh yuh mean fi tell mi Mrs Girvan
Commit a sin
When shi help mold dis inner-city girl
Into something.
Wicked, wanton liars unnuh be
Dats why Bob Marley seh wi mus
Emancipate wiself from mental slavery!

Aaah rite den, ah some Patois yuh waa
"Iih"- or should I say "Here"
Tek it! .