Flowers

I have never learnt the names of flowers.                                            

From beginning, my world has been a place

Of pot-holed streets where thick, sluggish gutters race

In slow time, away from garbage heaps and sewers

Past blanched old houses around which cowers

Stagnant earth. There, scarce green thing grew to chase

The dull-grey squalor of sick dust; no trace

Of plant save few sparse weeds; just these, no flowers.

One day, they cleared a space and made a park

There in the city’s slums; and suddenly

Came stark glory like lighting in the dark,

While perfume and bright petals thundered slowly.

I learnt no names, but hue, shape and scent mark

My mind, even now, with symbols holy

Dennis Craig

Long Mountain rise,

Lift you’ shoulder, blot the moon,

Black the stars, hide the skies,

Long Mountain, rise, lift you’ shoulder high.

Black of skin and white of gown,

Black of night and candle light

White against the black of trees,

And altar white against the gloom,

Black of mountain high up there,

Long Mountain rise,

Lift you’ shoulder, blot the moon,

Black the stars, black the sky.

Africa among the trees,

Asia with her mysteries,

Weaving white in flowing gown

Black long mountain looking down

Sees the shepherd and his flock

Dance and sing and wisdom mock

Dance and sing and falls away

All the civilized today

Dance and sing and fears let loose

Here the ancient gods that choose

Man for victim, man for hate,

Man for sacrifice to fate.

Hate and fear and madness black

Dance before the altar white.

Comes the circle closer still,

Shepherd weave your pattern old.

Africa Among The Trees

Asia With Her Mysteries.

Black Of Night And White Of Gown,

White Of Altar, Black Of Trees,

Swing De Circle Wide Again,

Fall And Cry, Me Sister Now.

Let De Spirit Come Again,

Fling Away De Flesh And Bone,

Let The Spirit Have A Home.

Grunting Low And In The Dark

White Of Gown And Circling Dance

Gone Today And All Control,

Power Of The Past Returns,

Africa Among The Trees,

Asia with her mysteries.

Black the stars, hide the sky,

Lift you’ shoulders, blot the moon

Long Mountain rise.

                                                                                Sir Philip Sherlock

This week-end sees the opening of two plays, providing live theatre that has been relatively scarce on the Guyanese stage since the recent COVID lockdown, but also providing an occasion with glittering significance in another context.  The production is presented by the University of Guyana in collaboration with the Theatre Guild of Guyana and is an interesting reminder of a close association between universities and the arts.