What’s My Question?

Here is the answer to my question

Can you tell what my question be?

Think a little then think a lot

And then tell the question back to me.

 

It is not as difficult as you think

Not if you think along the right line

So think a little then think a lot

But don’t over stress your finite mind.

 

“Crazy!”  Did I hear you say crazy?

Yes, it’s usually the other way around:

The question first then the answer

That’s why you think this way is unsound.

 

Never you mind; it is what it is

The answer first then the question

So think a little then think a lot

But please avoid undue frustration.

 

Did you say I didn’t give the answer?

You are mistaken; I really did,

Think a little then think a lot

Right in the open is where it’s hid.

 

The answer is in this poem

Take a good look and you will see

For once you find the answer

You’ll know what my question be.

 

 

It’s time now to give you a clue

Just to ease your concentration,

Think a little; don’t think a lot

Then answer the following question.

 

What am I doing at this moment?

No need to guess; that should be clear,

Think a little, don’t think a lot

And you will be almost there.

 

Now I hope I didn’t confuse you

When I gave you that critical clue

But you can read again this poem

That’s my sincere advice to you.

 

I have written many long poems

But not so with this one today,

The question to my answer is so easy

I don’t need to go that way.

 

So tell me the question to my answer

Here is the answer once again,

In your comment tell me the question

And you’ll agree we’re both insane.

 

Sometimes it takes a little insanity

For sensible people like you and me

To see something out in the open

That’s not hidden from prying eyes to see.

 

 

Here is the answer for the final time

Now the question you have found,

If you haven’t seen it by this time

You are the blindest person all around.

 

Where are you? I would have to ask

For certainly you could not be here,

Stop your thinking whether little or a lot

And swiftly get some psychiatric care.

 

Stewart Russell © July 2017

 

 

Ash Phenomenon

 

 

 

The ash is still falling

Though no longer from the sky,

It’s falling from treetops and roofs

And causing many a sigh.

 

“I just cleaned this place,

Swept down and swift down

And now I’m walking back through

I still feel the ash abound.

 

I’m feeling it in my nostrils

It’s irritating my palate,

I am coming to one conclusion-

This ash has to be fate.”

 

It gets in between your toes

And in between your fingers

And though the house is closed

Inside it still lingers.

 

It sneaks in the tiniest crevice

And fills the smallest hole

And where you least expect it

It begins to form like mold.

 

It is as light as air

And you actually breathe it in,

And by its persistence it says,

There’s no way you can win.

 

It does not discriminate

That is one sure consolation,

Black and white, rich and poor;

All experience frustration.

 

 

In the heights or terraces

The gardens or the farms,

On the blocks or in the villages

This is causing alarm.

 

Some things it coats in black

Other objects it covers in grey,

The roads are coated in white

As this ash holds full sway.

 

Not to mention the dust clouds

Whenever a vehicle passes by,

It’s as though the clouds are on earth

Having vacated the sky.

 

When will it go away?

This question is on every lip,

Whether COVID-19 or the ash

It’s sometimes hard to pick.

 

COVID has become COVASH,

What a relentless duo!

However, what we see is all we get

And a future we don’t know.

 

 

This ash is a phenomenon

Just like that of COVID

And all we can do, my friend,

Is to count our blessings and live.

 

Stewart Russell © April 28, 2021

 

Ashville

 

 

Welcome to Ashville!

It’s much better than hell,

I have this on good account

As I hear Vincentians tell.

 

Ours is a little ash

Compared to their plight

And if we have poor visibility

They have no sight.

 

Barbados is now Ashville

But St. Vincent is hell,

Spare them a thought and prayer

When you hear them yell.

 

 

I would rather live here

Than to be residing there,

Though ours is frustration

Theirs is ongoing fear.

 

Fear of the unknown

Then again all of us are

But theirs, for the moment,

Is greater by far.

 

So, when you see the ash

Spare a thought for Vincy,

They have it up to their necks

While over ash Baje worry.

 

I tell you, in our case

We ought not to complain,

Compared to our ashfall

St. Vincent’s is insane.

 

Which would you rather

The ash or the volcano

Or, like our Caribbean brothers,

Ash and pyroclastic flow?

 

 

Add to all this

The fallout from COVID-19

And I tell you my fellow Bajans

Theirs is a horrid scene.

 

Ashville or St. Vincent

Which would you prefer?

I am sure this is a question

You would never defer.

 

So, welcome to Ashville!

That’s the Barbadian scene

But down there in St. Vincent,

La Soufriere is mean.

 

Let’s lift them up in prayer

Prayer from the heart

And any assistance we can render

Let’s do our part.

 

Stewart Russell © April 14, 2021