All 2 entries tagged Poems

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May 03, 2007

From my window….

From my window

From my window, I see children playing in the streets.
I hear fireworks manifesting November’s treat.
I glance at random people walking by.
From my window, I see a whole world fly.

This is my window.
An object made out of wood and glass.
Both are destructible yet they work as an impasse,
to intruders, at last.
Privacy.
An interesting concept – so vast.
Where to draw the line? How to define it?
Physically? Subjectively?

From my window I see nothing.
I see a reflection of my own window on the window of the house across the road.
It all looks the same.
Beyond that wooden and glassed structure, nothing remains.
To that we shall not inquire, for it may be an intrusion of my neighbour’s privacy.

I see nothing because it’s dark.
Yet I notice random shadows in the street.
I hear a plane fly by.
What does the pilot see?
Nothing, surely.
Its dark.
Maybe he too, sees random shadows below his feet.

Back to privacy.
Surely if I pop my head over my neighbour’s fence whilst she’s sunbathing would count as an intrusion of her proprietary privacy: that is, her right to enjoy
Her life privately
Within the vicinity of her own home.
But what about the pilot, flying the plane?
He can certainly glance down, and see different things,
And see many people sunbathing, even when it rains.
Yet people don’t seem too really mind about that.

What else can my window tell me?
It plays an interesting, vital trick.
It allows sunlight in the house – an invasion of privacy?
No,
That would be to stretch one’s imagination beyond what needs be.

More importantly, from my window, I see freedom.
I see the world beyond this glassed structure.
I see doors in houses opposite.
Opportunities that can be opened.
Flowers that blossom.
People, random.
Then I understand the value of privacy,
And the pleasure of liberty.
For liberty is really, to look outside the window in a sunny or rainy day, and fear nothing – and open the door and step outside.
Fear nothing, for your window is not an impasse, not a veil protecting your own privacy – but a sign of freedom, of perspective, of ideas.
Stand up and re-visit the windows in your house.
You’d find more than just a wooden and glassed structure: you’ll find yourself.
Demolish the house, rebuild it if you like – but you’ll notice that if there is one thing that houses can’t do without: windows.

Look at your window and think of it as an opportunity.
A bridge, a possibility.
Look at it and think: this is my window, my child, my sexual fantasy.

There is usually one way in a house, that is, through the door.
That is precisely the purpose of a door:
A medium of providing access to someone’s property. And to privacy?
It serves no more.

But windows, oh windows, they’re different.
They’re transparent.
They cement darkness with light.
Sometimes you can even stare outside without being noticed by the outsiders.
They enhance the colours in your room and,
The light in your life.

From my window, I see you, a reflection of my sight.


June 11, 2005

Halfe–Caste by John Agard

Excuse me
standing on one leg
I'm half-caste

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when picasso
mix red an green
is a half-caste canvas/
explain yuself
wha u mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean when light an shadow
mix in de sky
is a half-caste weather/
well in dat case
england weather
nearly always half-caste
in fact some o dem cloud
half-caste till dem overcast
so spiteful dem dont want de sun pass
ah rass/
explain yuself
wha yu mean
when yu say half-caste
yu mean tchaikovsky
sit down at dah piano
an mix a black key
wid a white key
is a half-caste symphony/

Explain yuself
wha yu mean
Ah listening to yu wid de keen
half of mih ear
Ah looking at u wid de keen
half of mih eye
and when I'm introduced to yu
I'm sure you'll understand
why I offer yu half-a-hand
an when I sleep at night
I close half-a-eye
consequently when I dream
I dream half-a-dream
an when moon begin to glow
I half-caste human being
cast half-a-shadow
but yu come back tomorrow
wid de whole of yu eye
an de whole of yu ear
and de whole of yu mind

an I will tell yu
de other half
of my story

John Agard


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