By Roland E. Williams


I have invented an adjective

That is ever so informative

For it is to do only with you

Because of what only you can do

This adjective will help you to see

Just how important you are to me

My added word for you is museful

This word is really very useful

You are museful when I need a hand

You are museful when you understand

You musefully help me to create

Although I sometimes exceed the date

You are so aboundingly museful

And so enormously valuable

You’re my muse, if you like it or not

Now be museful: help me with this plot!



By Roland E. Williams


A weary and troubled heart met his queen

She smiled when he beckoned for an audience

Wondering if his words were indeed true

Then he beckoned a few more times in vain

And left it for time to elucidate

Soon after, his queen was to bear witness

Of how tangible his intentions were





By Faye-Chantelle Mondesir


When October comes around, it’s time to head to beautiful SAINT LUCIA for one of the most culturally-rich festivals in the world! The highly anticipated annual Jounen Kwéyòl (Creole Day) festival is routinely celebrated on the stunning, topographical Caribbean island on the last Sunday of the month across island. Saint Lucia sits nestled with poise between Martinique and St. Vincent, arrayed with its famous twin Pitons and dynamic walk-in volcanic attraction among others. Annually hosted from 1984, on this festive day, the various towns and communities island wide chosen to host the festival, reenact traditional and cultural norms inherited from ancestors.


Some of the highlights of this vibrant festival include delectable local dishes; meals such as green fig and salt fish (the national dish of Saint Lucia), plantains, a range of breadfruit dishes, several varieties of fish, manicou (opossum), souse (pork soup flavoured with cucumber), fried floats/ bakes, accra (fried dough containing salt fish infused with a range of local seasonings) and paime (conkies). The favoured fish, chicken or beef bouillon stewed with dasheen, yams, plantains, banana and of course the highly popular dumpling, local drinks such as cocoa tea and an inviting, refreshing range of fresh, local fruit juices are all just a few of the special Creole day delicacies greatly anticipated during the weekend of cultural feasting and merry-making.


A bit more about the colourful festival for the unfamiliar; Aside from the mouth-watering cuisinical highlights, the event is vivaciously infused with rhythmical ‘kweyol’ music, a lot of which have been handed down from ancient generations. The Tambos drum is the most prominent instrument used besides vocals, beaten and played throughout the celebrations as natives communicate in their mother creole language and enjoy the activities. Saint Lucia is multi-lingual, but ‘patois,’ as ‘Creole’ is affectionately referred to on-island, is the main form of verbal expression and communication among older residents and within rural communities.


The occasion is observed and honoured by patrons both sporting and representing with the island’s National wear, such as the Wob Dwiete, complemented with matching head gear and traditionally accessorised. This is usually the choice fashion statement from the Friday through to the Sunday among all age groups, yet another highlight of the celebrations.


As a modern alternative, the younger, more conventional creole festival party-goers model clothing of all styles and colours, made from the traditional creole and plaid fabric called Madras. This modern fashion statement is both a substitute and contrast to the extreme layers of skirts and dresses, allowing them to fully represent their local heritage with their own generational touch. Here’s wishing all Saint Lucians at home and abroad A SPECTACULAR CREOLE DAY!







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By Roland E. Williams


I recall seeing it for the first time

A sign of bad news

The infamous red flag flying so high

As far away as that which it stood for

Something is out there, dad said briskly

And it was. The night was to tell its tale

Unendingly long and hot and restless

And wheezing

Filled with squeaks and thuds and whistling winds

A tired boy lay there listening in awe

But smiling

For all within his sight were safe



By Roland E. Williams


I said to the singer

Singer, sing me my song

He said he cannot sing that which has been unwritten

Because your song has been erased and undone

As if it was never to be sung


I said to the barman

Barman, pour me my drink

He said how can he pour me that which has never been brewed

And the brewery was burned to the ground

And the only recipe with it


I said to the cook

Chef, prepare me my meal

He said it is something he can no longer serve me

For the ingredients are now all extinct

And left not a trace of DNA


I then asked the historian

Tell me, what is my story?

He turned and asked me, and who may you be?

Only those who made their mark

Are in the books of history



By Roland E. Williams


At four, or a little after

Silently to the shore

Boat straining young bodies

Today not everyone is present

No one minds

No one must care

This time of day silences sounds

All are being quiet as they begin

Tongues too heavy to move

Now still far to go

Will they recall that?

Now they pull,

They raise,

They lower,

And out they go

Great big swells beneath them

A little farther

A little more

Almost there, the first one coming up

It’s dark, don’t get hurt

One pulls,

One coils,

Others raise their feet,

Conger eel aboard!

Not too bad, for the first

Been better, and been much better,

But been worse too

They’re still quiet

And you don’t know why

No time to attend to that

Just keep hauling, next’s coming up!

There’s a lot of flapping

And almost as much snapping

The pails are filling up

The splashes are louder

This hour silences less

This fellow’s small, should he go back?

Sure to be someone else’s catch

There’s a lot of silver

And rainbow colors

And so many specks

And stripes!



By Roland E. Williams


Your presence never made a difference

When you were far away

You could have been anyone,

The image that fades with contentment

Or strengthens in despair

Like a child, it lost its fidelity,

Once it had matured

There were understated tears

Now it seems so long ago

At times not long enough

That’s why I wonder how you are

I wish I could have told you then

That honesty grew up

And went and hid its face

Sure to re-appear when you start again

And in this moment I have tried to count

How many were blessings

But they’ve all come down to sins

All doomed to go awry

Because happiness was a child