Arts on Sunday

 An Edward A Goodall drawing of a station on the Essequibo done in the 1840s
An Edward A Goodall drawing of a station on the Essequibo done in the 1840s

A look back at the evolution of Guyanese literature

Guyanese literature was highly celebrated last February with the return of the Guyana Prize for Literature and its concomitant Literary Festival during the Republic anniversary observations.

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. 

Henry Muttoo

Muttoo, Duenne and Tramping Man – a masterclass of artistry

The University of Guyana and the Theatre Guild of Guyana are currently collaborating in the production of a programme of two plays – The Tramping Man by Ian McDonald and Duenne by Paloma Mohamed, currently running at the Theatre Guild Playhouse  in Kingston until April 22. 

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.

Rajiv Mohabir

On Phagwah and poems

Chautal                               In the forest, the papiha bird’s epics stave off sleep.

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.

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