Saturday, January 18, 2014

Jamaican Time: A Poem by Hanna Harris (1/18/14)

There are 1,013,913 words in the English language 
Yet I couldn't string any of them together 
To properly describe this beauty 
Sensory intake has interrupted my soliloquies
Red dirt on skin turned to tea leaves on rust
Time took a break to look around

Veins run like rivers 
Dumping into the ocean 
Poetry flows from waving fingertips 
Voices are ballroom dancing with each other 
And we all realize 
Time is a nasty little habit 

Everything has become animalistic 
Like there's a primal urge to be happy 
Forget the iPhones 
Nothing compares to the imprints on my palms 
From pressing my hands on the collar bones of

       This is a poem I wrote as a part of my final project for J-Term. I wrote it here in Jamaica while I was sitting on a porch in Falmouth. I was looking out at the town and thinking about what I've seen here and the culture as a whole. People here are always talking about "Jamaican Time" as opposed to regular time, because no one here gives much thought to punctuality. Everything is very relaxed, which is one of my favorite things about Jamaica. This poem was very fun to write because it means a lot to me and it sums up my feelings on the subject very well. 

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