A City’s Death By Fire – Derek Walcott

After that hot gospeller has levelled all but the churched sky, I wrote the tale by tallow of a city’s death by fire; Under a…

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A Far Cry From Africa – Derek Walcott

A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies, Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt. Corpses are scattered through a…

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After The Storm – Derek Walcott

There are so many islands! As many islands as the stars at night on that branched tree from which meteors are shaken like falling fruit…

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Blues – Derek Walcott

Those five or six young guys lunched on the stoop that oven-hot summer night whistled me over. Nice and friendly. So, I stop. MacDougal or…

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Codicil – Derek Walcott

Schizophrenic, wrenched by two styles, one a hack’s hired prose, I earn me exile. I trudge this sickle, moonlit beach for miles, tan, burn to…

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Coral – Derek Walcott

This coral’s hape ecohes the hand It hollowed. Its Immediate absence is heavy. As pumice, As your breast in my cupped palm. Sea-cold, its nipple…

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Dark August – Derek Walcott

So much rain, so much life like the swollen sky of this black August. My sister, the sun, broods in her yellow room and won’t…

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Egypt, Tobago – Derek Walcott

There is a shattered palm on this fierce shore, its plumes the rusting helm- et of a dead warrior. Numb Antony, in the torpor stretching…

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Forest Of Europe – Derek Walcott

The last leaves fell like notes from a piano and left their ovals echoing in the ear; with gawky music stands, the winter forest looks…

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In The Virgins – Derek Walcott

You can’t put in the ground swell of the organ from the Christiansted, St.Croix, Anglican Church behind the paratrooper’s voice: “Turned cop after Vietnam. I…

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Koening Of The River – Derek Walcott

Koening knew now there was no one on the river. Entering its brown mouth choking with lilies and curtained with midges, Koenig poled the shallop…

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Love After Love – Derek Walcott

The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirror and each will smile at…

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Midsummer, Tobago – Derek Walcott

Broad sun-stoned beaches. White heat. A green river. A bridge, scorched yellow palms from the summer-sleeping house drowsing through August. Days I have held, days…

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Parang – Derek Walcott

Man, I suck me tooth when I hear How dem croptime fiddlers lie, And de wailing, kiss-me-arse flutes That bring water to me eye! Oh,…

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Pentecost – Derek Walcott

Better a jungle in the head than rootless concrete. Better to stand bewildered by the fireflies’ crooked street; winter lamps do not show where the…

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R.T.S.L. (1917-1977) – Derek Walcott

As for that other thing which comes when the eyelid is glazed and the wax gleam from the unwrinkled forehead asks no more questions of…

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Sabbaths, W.I. – Derek Walcott

Those villages stricken with the melancholia of Sunday, in all of whose ocher streets one dog is sleeping those volcanoes like ashen roses, or the…

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The Saddhu Of Couva – Derek Walcott

When sunset, a brass gong, vibrate through Couva, is then I see my soul, swiftly unsheathed, like a white cattle bird growing more small over…

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The Schooner ‘Flight’ – Derek Walcott

1 Adios, Carenage In idle August, while the sea soft, and leaves of brown islands stick to the rim of this Carribean, I blow out…

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The Star-Apple Kingdom – Derek Walcott

There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools of shadow from an older…

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