POEMS Storyteller

Upside Down

One day, when a rainstorm is about to burst out of the silver gray sky. I will walk down to the beach, step into the ocean and swim out, the tropical rain forest disappearing in the mist behind me. I will dive down to the ocean’s bed, lay on my back and look up at the rain crashing into the ocean’s surface. Watch the small ripples merge into one flowing wave, marvel at the traffic of tropical fish and mammals floating by above me. Maybe I will see this world differently if I see it from the bottom up.


Lady at the End of a Rainbow

I found her standing at the end of a rainbow

Her black hair satiated with colours

Her skin glistened with small drops of rain

A tropical blue dress clung to her

Waves washed ashore covering her feet

And when the waves retreated

Fallen colours seeped through her toes

Her arms raised above her head

Mouth open, tasting the drizzle

Time did not stop

Though I wished it would

She turned and looked at me

Her Smokey grey eyes smiled

I started to say something

But she turned and ran off

And I watched her dissolved into the greyblue storm

Pics with verse Storyteller

Rainy day in West Virginia

Rainy day in West Virginia

Look out ah door, de rain is coming down inna de concrete jungle. Filling de Ohio river, water splashing in de potholes dem. Ahhh yes, rain is rain wherever you are, only here is West Virginia, de rain hit you skin real cold. Like small icicles bouncing off you skin. Child, dis not no tropical rain attall attall attall.

Pics with verse Storyteller

The Morning Walk

The Morning Walk

Walk in the rain down a path, feel the mud hug you toes, hear the suction of the mud against your feet. Feel the rain hit the top of your head sending a waterfall of coolness down your shoulder. Walk until the path becomes rocky, and you can see your footprints on the rock’s surface, and the darkness of the forest turns to the gray light of a cloudy morning. Here you stand, looking past the village, the beaches, the ships in the harbor, you look out to see. Here is where you will stand waiting for the next storm to form over the ocean.

Pics with verse POEMS Storyteller


When you dance its your soul I see
Verse in motion
Nature expressing itself
Heart on stilts moving like lyrics
A novel without a sequel
Once in a lifetime whisper
A touch that penetrates the skin
Beauty without expression
A still ocean in a storm
Life ever after, existence before time

POEMS Storyteller

Randon Thoughts 1

I am walking on air, like a man with stilts but without the stilts

I am sitting in space on a raincloud with a storm in my heart

I am lusting for forgiveness, my indiscretions running like hot lava

I am surfing on a shooting star, dark moon cover my shameless soul

I am longing for love, my foolish imagination drifts away with butterflies on fire

I am searching for the right words to say, ideas float above me like birds without wings

I am spouting lyrics, they hurt like thorns without points

I am riding waves, never touching the water

I am romancing the calm before the storm

I am parasailing on a moonbeam

I am hating for the love of the human race



Pics with verse Storyteller

Good Morning Neighbours

Good Morning Neighbours

One of my favorite things to do was going to walk through the forest after a rainstorm. Ahhh the scent of the mud as my bare feet sink into its soft surface. The cold droplets of rain dripping off the leaves of the trees. The smell of mangos ripening somewhere in the bushes, The wings of birds flapping as they soar from tree to tree. The butterflies that float away when you shake the bushes. Then on the day when rain persisted, taking shelter under a large banana leaf while eating the yellow spotted fruit. Yes, boyhood days, full of adventure on that little island called the Isle of Spice

POEMS Storyteller


Those are not tears, they are raindrops. Its like mother nature lives in me and there is a storm brewing, its love about to unleash thunder and lightening on the fallen human race.  



Dark like Pluto, bright like the sun

Sweet like tropical fruit, sour like salt

graceful like a ballerina, clumsy like Steve Urkel

Hateful like politician,  loving like a mother

Soothing like reggae, unnerving like a scream

Therapeutic like laughter, destructive like a storm

Quiet like death, noisy like a war

Life, who knew?

Pics with verse Storyteller

Wait for the storm

Wait for the storm

The best days are the days when you lay in bed, listening, waiting. Someone yells at a child in the village, birds fly overhead, a car backfires on the highway, loud music from somewhere. Then you hear it, the first thunder, it rumbled across the sky sounding like a hungry old man’s stomach. Then you hear the wind, whistling through the tropical trees, mangoes fell out of the trees, a small hard object bounces off the window paine. Someone running outside, trying to get home before the downpour. And then it happens, the faint sound of a drizzle hitting the galvanize roof, thunder roars, the wind picks up. Darkness covers the village as the gray skies rolls in. The rain is heavy now, pounding off the galvanize roof. Oh that sweet melody, soothing, comforting. You want to stay away to hear it, lose yourself in the rhythm. But your eye lids becomes heavy, and you slowly drift off, the sound of the rain hitting the roof fades and you fall into a dream were you are walking in the warm tropical downpour.