Al Creighton

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Articles by Al Creighton

Remembering Egbert ‘Leo’ Martin

The Poet                                                            The poet is a magician, The philosopher’s stone is his; It turns all baser metals To priceless rarities.

Superior artistry was on show in Sauda

Among the high points of the recent Guyana Prize Literary Festival, resurrected last February, was the performance of the play Sauda by Guyanese playwright Mosa Telford, directed by Ayanna Waddell and staged by the National Drama Company at the  Cultural Centre. 

Flowers

I have never learnt the names of flowers.                                             From beginning, my world has been a place Of pot-holed streets where thick, sluggish gutters race In slow time, away from garbage heaps and sewers Past blanched old houses around which cowers Stagnant earth.

Berkley Semple

Berkley Semple’s poetry a fitting tribute to Guyana republic celebration

History Even Sisyphus rested considering a new approach upstairs Straight up this time this stone all the way to Elysium But we could not, there was so much to do down here, The cane the cane-cutting, egged on, the foreman saying, “some Of you lazy-lazy,” if in pith helmet a high horse driver edging the field Would remember to us another kind of history, chamars Bent between stanzas of wavering cane under sun that keels Their spines, dry their substance like raisins until the stars Were switched on.

 The poem captures the arduous trek the three wise men undertook

The end of the season

Journey of the Magi A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a long journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.’

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