Is There a Chance?

  

 

 

Is there any chance

There won’t be a three-peat

In which the Mia Mottley led BLP

Gets every seat?

 

 

 

I can tell you

What I’m hearing out there

But really most if it is fairy tale

I’d rather not share.

 

Some are saying

What they would like to see

But the reality is quite evident

It’s not likely to be.

 

The Ds are confident

So too, Friends of Democracy,

Three have even formed a coalition

To build efficacy.

 

Utility pole after utility pole

Is flashing Bright Red,

“Red and Ready” is Mia’s slogan,

Things looking dread.

 

Up to the time of writing

I’m yet to see some yellow

But a once prominent D surmised

Posters are rather shallow.

 

Differently, I observed

A certain Constituency office

So bedecked with the face of a candidate

He could never be missed.

 

 

You’d better believe it

The country is seeing red,

Actually, in more ways than one

It’s both red and dread.

 

Is there a chance?

I would say not much,

Thirty-nil, while losing some ground,

And this is simply put.

 

DLP’s vote is severely split:

Not so with the BLP,

Apathy will no doubt play its part

But not significantly.

 

 

 

The Bs are red and ready

The Ds are confident,

The other parties will cause a stir

As Bs and Ds they resent.

 

We need an Opposition

That’s vibrant in its appeal,

No one man opposition can put fire

To the Government’s heel.

 

No threat to starve MPs

Will have long term effect,

Such a silly and petulant strategy

Is a futile threat.

 

Numbers count, I argue,

Especially in Parliament

And they must be significant enough

For the Ds to make a dent.

 

 

  

So, while I wish them luck

And hope they advance,

Something tells me quite loudly:

Not a chance!

 

Stewart Russell © January 24, 2026

 

No Nations in Heaven

 

 

No nations in heaven

Not a single one,

God ushered in the heavenly Jerusalem

And the old was gone.

 

He didn’t start with a nation

But with one man

To whom he gave a woman

For redemption’s plan.

 

The first Adam failed

With his eyes opened wide,

That he knew what God required

Cannot be denied.

 

 

Judgement came later

In the form of a great flood,

Noah preached for 120 years

But nobody budged.

 

Eight people were saved

To repopulate the world:

Noah, his wife and six others

According to the Word.

 

Next it was Abraham

Called from among his clan

And who was instructed by God

To journey to a land.

 

Followed by Isaac

And Jacob renamed Israel

Out of whom came the twelve tribes

God’s chosen people.

 

 

In faithful Abraham

All nations are blessed

Becoming one people in Christ

Thus, entering God’s rest.

 

No nation at the start

And no nation in the end

But a people out of many nations

Christ calls his friends.

 

To all that received him

They are children of God:

A people not limited to ethnic Israel

But scattered abroad.

 

 

 

Made up of every nation,

Every kindred and tongue

Having heard the everlasting gospel

To YAHWEH now belong.

 

A people, not a nation,

Do not be mistaken!

All of ethnic Israel will not be saved;

Only those that are forgiven.

 

Now no wall of partition,

No longer Gentile and Jew,

All are one people in Christ Jesus

No chosen nation in view.

 

 

No nations in heaven

Only the people of God,

And with these God tabernacles

Though scattered abroad.

 

1 John 3:2

 

Beloved,

Now are we the sons of God,

And it doth not yet appear

What we shall be:

 

But we know that,

When he shall appear,

We shall be like him;

For we shall see him as he is.

 

The New Jerusalem

Prepared as Christ’s bride,

Coming from God out of heaven

With us to forever abide.

 

Stewart Russell ©June 13, 2025

 

So Sorry to Hear

 

 

How oft have you said,

“So sorry to hear”

When you heard some bad news

Loaded with despair?

 

It is understandable

But not what we mean

And for sure, when it is heard,

It’s not what is gleaned.

 

Someone has passed

And we are “sorry to hear”,

But that’s not what we mean

Though what we share.

 

“So sorry to hear

This happened to you"

But that’s not what we mean-

Not in my view.

 

"Did you hear

What happened to Scot?"

“No,” but when you finally heard

You almost dropped.

 

Genuinely touched,

These words appear

From lips operating by mere reflex,

“So sorry to hear.”

 

You’ve heard it often

And have said it too,

And when you responded like this

You were being true.

 

Albeit, though,

It wasn’t what you meant

For you were glad you heard

But not with evil bent.

 

It is the circumstance

You were sorry about

But when you hear bad news

That’s how it comes out.

 

It’s not “so sorry to hear"

Of some recent mishap

But sorry it has happened as in,

I’ve got your back.

 

If you hadn’t heard

You could not know

That your friend had suffered

A major blow.

 

 

 

Nothing more to say

But I trust you understand

That the expression we often share

Is for the circumstance.

 

Stewart Russell © August 8, 2025

 

Symbolic Vs Structural

 

What kind of republic

Do we now celebrate

And regarding the new Constitution,

Is there a date?

 

We are now a republic

But only by name

And this to my way of thinking

Is a burning shame.

 

We do have a President

But is this all?

Four years since the naming;

Oh, what gall!

 

 

 

It sounds really good

On the international front

But the fact there is nothing more

Is a political stunt.

 

PM Mia has done better

Than the PMs before her

Who had promised the people

But did defer.

 

We are symbolically so

At least, if nothing more,

She has done more than they did;

With a foot in the door.

 

Now for the structure

So long in coming

That should have informed the republic

From the beginning.

 

 

 

Yes, “cart before the horse”:

Idiotic syndrome,

Surely, Mia Amor Mottley, that move

I could not condone.

 

Condemn is more apt

Given our current state,

For I am sure you did not intend for this

To be our current fate.

 

Almost four years

Still under the Monarchy

And operating under Westminster

Like their colony.

 

No structure of our own

With our own Constitution

But still jumping up and doing bad

In misled celebration.

 

 

 

But celebrating what?

I am constrained to ask,

Since the mere symbolic to me

Is like wearing a mask.

 

Neither fish nor fowl

And this is structurally,

Simply meandering like a lazy river

Pathetically.

 

A damper on Independence,

Oh, what a disgrace

Bearing in mind that the republic

Was to take its place!

 

Independence will stay

We were told recently

And it does appear this would be so

Indefinitely.

 

 

 

Westminster structure

Is all that there is

Because the promised Constitution

Is just a fizz.

 

Symbolic Vs Structure

Where ‘tis symbolic alone

Is no cause for such celebration;

The concrete has blown.

 

Structural change needed

Is the Ad I propose

Stipulating a different direction,

Not monarchal clothes.

 

Not a local massa

To replace the colonial one

But be able to say to that system

Be gone!

 

Building from the people

Allowing for greater say

And letting both young and old

Point the way.

 

An independent speaker

That is not an MP

And the leader of the Senate:

Similarly

 

Pay greater attention

To losing candidates,

Barbadians also voted for them

So do not berate.

 

 

Build out democracy

As genuinely as can be,

Leave no room for dictatorship

Or for tyranny.

 

Let God be more

Than a token or convenience

Like when we only call on His name

In need of assistance.

 

Let Him guide us

In the choices we make

So that we build structurally sound

For everyone’s sake.

 

A republic with a difference

Is what we should be,

Not just a republic symbolically

But a beacon of integrity.

 

 

Beaming its light

Across the Caribbean Sea

With a view to mutual integration

With other countries.

 

Let 'Sixty' find us

Much further along:

Not still a republic by name

But building strong. 

 

Stewart Russell © November 27, 2025

 

Kind o’ Confusing

  

 

 

He said he came home early

She said it was late,

He had arrived home

The same time she would wake.

 

If she wakes up early

Then how could he be late?

Did he not arrive home

At the time she would wake?

 

A difference in perspective

Between this husband and wife

And as a result

There is ongoing strife.

 

When he comes at eleven

She says it is early

But thinks he is late

If he comes at twelve-thirty.

 

What’s early for the male

Is late for the female,

They see time differently

That is “for real”.

 

She awakes at four

And that is early for her,

He gets home at four too

And she says it’s later

 

So early for the woman

Is late for the man,

Men, please acknowledge this

When you devise your plan.

 

Stewart Russell © September 2019

 

Diminished in A Moment

  

 

Get your act together

Or we’ll treat you like the rat,

If such were said to you,

Would you take that?

 

And what about your pride?

Would any at all be left

Or would you only hear the welcome

And to the rest be deaf?

 

The bosom is very close

So, every eye will be on you,

Would you still be feeling accepted

Regarded with such a view?

  

You could be an opportunist

Or perhaps seen as a plant

To offset their enduring institution

But understand you can’t.

 

Barely four years passed

And that you disliked now like,

Is it really the case, Mr. Defector

You have seen the light?

 

 

 

Did your constituents know:

Those who voted for you,

That you were parting ways with them

And are finally through?

 

R.A.T. crossed the floor

Just like the bishop before

But you, sir, had everyone guessing

Before closing the door.

 

Maybe you were smarter

And displayed a better timing

In winning the nomination in the city

Before the bell was ringing.

 

 

 

Just in time Mr. Defector,

Or already in the bosom

Having been accepted by the PM

And past sins forgotten?

 

You may be riding high

Or so you may be feeling

But to be welcomed in such a way

To me is quite revealing.

 

Maybe you’ll win the seat

But what about your pride?

The fact that you are being used

Cannot be denied.

 

 

Diminished in a moment:

Insult followed success,

Mr. Defector, it definitely seems to me

You are a pawn at best.

 

Maybe there was a reason

You had lost your voice,

Perhaps your vocal-chords doubted

The reason for your choice.

 

From a dying institution

To one that seems invincible,

The fact you’re at the bottom of the pack

To me is inescapable.

 

It is an interesting lane

To which you have switched

But in the best interest of the city folk

I hope you can make it fit.

 

 

 

Representation in the courts

Is different from Parliament,

In the former you are paid for services

In the latter you are a servant.

 

 

 

In one you decide your pay

In the other, the Government,

But note it’s the money of taxpayers

Whom you represent.

 

Diminished in a moment

By the Deputy PM

So, tell me in all sincerity Mr. Defector,

Are you through with the Dems?

 

Stewart Russell © January 19, 2026

 

Yahweh

 

  

Yahweh, someone said,

Sounds like a breath:

It is the first breath at one’s birth

And the last at death.

 

It gave me a thrill

To think I called His name

With the very first breath I drew

And then again and again.

 

Try taking a breath

And tell me of its sound,

It’s not farfetched what you hear,

It’s rather quite profound.

 

 

 

Yahweh, Yahweh

Comes with every breath,

Whispering at the time we come forth

Until our very death.

 

When God created Adam

He formed him from the mold,

Then He breathed his breath in him

Making him a living soul.

 

 

 

Yahweh, Yahweh

Comes with every breath,

A whisper at the time we come forth

Until our very death.

 

Now take a deep breath:

Inhale and exhale,

It seems like Yahweh is the sound

And this without fail.

 

Never take for granted

Even a single breath,

Notice it is Yahweh in and out

And then a little rest.

 

 

 

A pause to let it sink in:

Yahweh is in every breath

It’s like calling his name at birth

And saying it until death.

 

It is more obvious

If struggling to breathe,

Could it be a way of calling on Yahweh

To bring us ease?

 

 

 

Yahweh, Yahweh,

Comes with every breath,

From the moment we come forth

Until our very death.

 

Yahweh in and out,

It’s Yahweh every hour,

We cannot draw a single breath

Unless He gives us power.

 

Stewart Russell © September 22, 2025