This is Not a Good Time, by Kimolisa Mings - 1st place – Poetry 18 and over
Ladies and gentlemen,
This moment in time,
Is not great,
In fact,
It is awful.

Between wars and famine,
Revolutions and riots,
All taking place
In the backdrop
Of an economic downturn.

This, my friends,
Is not a good time.

The hemlines of
Our young women rise,
As the waistbands of
Our young men fall.

This, people,
Is not a good time.

I know it,
You know it,
We all know it,
And yet we are reminded
Over and over
By the media.

Through the television,
Via the radio,
In publications,
On the internet.
We are constantly being
Reminded of how
Bad our situation is.

Forcing us to relive this awful moment,
Over and over.
Forcing us to wear the
Grey-coloured shades
Of misery.

Today,
In this moment,
I say “Enough!”

Enough with reminding us
Of the problems,
The debates of what and where
It went wrong,
Looking for someone to blame,
The political puppet-shows.
Enough!

Instead,
Let us come together
And find a solution
To move forward,
To escape this place
Inhabited by
Fear, hatred,
Anger, and uncertainty.

Let us move forward
To a place where
We all prosper,
Big and small,
Rich and not so rich.

A place where happiness is found
And occupies spirit and mind,
Where there is success from hard work,
And joy in our connections
With each other.

I believe we all possess the God element…

The same thing that
Takes a grain of sand
And creates a pearl.

The same thing that
Creates a diamond
From a lump of coal.

We all possess it…
It can be found
In the smallest atom
And it can be found
In the largest galaxy.
We possess it…

The moment we were conceived
We had this little piece of God,
And as we grew,
We were taught to forget it,
But I ask you,
I beg you to remember
How great you are.

They say the world
Is to end in 2012,
I say let it end.
And from the ashes
We will make a new one,
A better one,
A greater world.

Forward on,
Backward never.

Just Forward On, by Denise Smith-Lewis - 2nd place – Poetry 18 and over
Uncle Jay smiles broadly, his tear-glistened eye beams with pride.
“That’s my daughter you know!” he says, turning to the stranger at his side.
“Is first class honours she get!” He exclaims with much vigour,
“What a way how me baby girl turn big time scholar!”

“It was rough going fuh me, cause me Vee die and leave she small.
An me fuh raise deh ten o’ dem alone, dat was a helluva call!
But me farward on, an did me best, didn’t murmur nor complain.
Me jus cry out to the Almighty Lard, again and again.

“Plenty times me feel like giving up, me couldn’t tek it no more.
Me wanted fuh lie down side me Vee, on dat peaceful shore,
But dem ten pickney look to me everyday fuh daily bread.
So all dat talk ‘bout giving up, me get dem out me head.

“Fuh feed ten pickney nuh easy, nuh! Food disappear in me house!
Sometimes me swear say, we was infested wid a million mouse.
Then clothes, an shoes, an school. Lard, what a frustration!
But me farward on, an see to it, dem get one good education.

“So, now, me baby graduate, ah me feel like a one king.
Fuh see a dis what all me hard work an sacrifice bring.
De sky is de limit, everything possible in sight.
Lard, thank you, fuh help me do something right.

“So son, whatever your struggle, you too, can achieve.
Never give up on your dreams, always believe!
When you fall, ‘rouse youself, nuh stay trodden dong,
Get up again with courage an jus farward on!”

Forward On, by Patsy Philip - 3rd place – Poetry 18 and over
Remember the days of the old coal pot?                
How it used to keep food, piping hot?
When Pappie light the fire from dry, cassie wood;
Mamma food used to taste ‘finger-licking good.’

But some people say the coal pot too slow,
Nowadays, everybody is on the go.
No time to catch fire, nor light a coal pot,
What you going to do when that’s all you got?

Me hear ‘bout the oil stove that work just fine,
It cook the food in a far less time.
So I went and bought one from Luke and Son,
To show me neighbour that I can move on.

But the first time de food cook pon de oil stove
The flame burn red, then blue, then mauve.
Sometimes, it smoke and black-up the pot
And the food taste smoky, just lakka dat.

Then, one night I was watching ZAL TV
And see an advertisement that really struck me.
The man said this is the new model stove,
It’s now on the market, like name brand clothes.

So I went to Hadeed to check it out
And met people from east, west, north and south.
We all paid down on this new gas stove,
That would neither burn red, blue nor mauve.

Soon after that I wanted to bake
My own pies, cookies, bread and cake.
So I went to Mansoor to trust the latest one
And started my business of baking bun.

Sometimes the customers were on the run,
Wanted butter and cheese in a hot bun.
One of them told me to get a microwave
But the danger of that is an early grave.

Now, I have moved on from the good old days,
Traded technology for my heritage.
Yes, I have moved on. What price will I pay?
And where would I be without technology today?

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