Confusion or love

That moment when love and confusion converge
Like lukewarm water on an arctic soul
Where hot lava erupts from an iceberg
And birds fly north for the winter
Butterflies blossoms into beautiful caterpillars
Water is boiled to make ice
Surfers surf on waves of sand
Demons sing hymns to the poor and needy
God and the devil eats breakfast together at sunrise

Pics with verse Storyteller

Chill Day

Ahhh its Sunday, I may try to do what the butterflies do, camouflage myself in the rainbow of colours, Rest on a branch and let the wind bounce off me, let the sun bake me into a comfortable warm, what humming birds flutter around the core of flowers. Yeah man, its a great day to be a tropical butterfly.


Out of Element

I walked away with my soul questioning my common sense

And as she disappeared in the distance

I was a butterfly turning into a caterpillar

A Zebra with spots, a bird that dives to the bottom of the ocean

A man with legs for arms.

I felt like i had dove into the ocean

But was swimming in outer space

And as i walk away, i knew i was walking on quicksand

But i was stepping on the surface live Jesus walking on the ocean





POEMS Storyteller

The Boy With The Blue Eyes Artwork by Bonnie Moore Delong

The Boy With The Blue Eyes Artwork by Bonnie More Delong

He laughs so hard he begins to cry

Blueberry nectar across the sky

Giving colour to the Blue Butterfly Bush

Creating innocence in the tropical ocean

And the serenity of the gently swirling lagoon

A world you see from outer space

Crystal blue floating in charcoal mist

They are the sparkle of the mountains of Jamaica

The bloom of bonnet fields in Texas

The peace of the Blue Haze of Medford Oregon

And when they close

The light disappears

And the world goes back to being ordinary

Pics with verse Storyteller

Welcome to the Dance

Welcome to the Dance

You are invited to the tropics, where the natives dance in the shade of the mango tree, and the humming birds stop in mid flight to stare, and caterpillars look on, hoping that some day, they too can join the dance of the butterflies.

Stories Storyteller

My place of Solice

There is a place, on the edge of the island called L’anse Aux Epines, where the ocean meets the shore, and the waves crashes against the rock, and the seagulls take off and soar out to sea. There is a small patch of land, where the grass comes up to your waist, and the blades are golden green when the sun is highest in the sky. That is the best time to walk into the grass, shake it real hard, close your eyes and wait. You will feel a tickle against your skin, like a gentle breeze bouncing off my skin right after I have walked in rain. Then I would open my eyes to see the glitter of colours around me as hundreds of butterflies swarmed around me, their wings fluttering, orange, yellow, blue, green, brown, black, purple blocking the view of the ocean, the seagulls, the small fishing boat in the distance. Then slowly, they settled down, and the view ocean replaces the wings, and I feel at peace, my skin still tingling, my heart beating slow.

Food Storyteller



A nice tropical drink, when I lived on the island, I always had a tall glass of Mauby, the ice clinging in the glass as I sat on the backdoor steps in the backyard watching the butterflies go from the rode bushes to the hibiscus trees. Listening to Bob Marley on the boombox.