All posts by Opal Palmer Adisa

Opal Palmer Adisa is an exceptional writer/theatre director/photographer/gender advocate, nurtured on cane-sap and the oceanic breeze of Jamaica. Writer of poetry and professor, educator and cultural activist, Adisa has lectured and read her work throughout the United States, South Africa, Ghana, Nigeria, Germany, England and Prague, and has performed in Italy and Bosnia. An award-winning poet and prose writer Adisa has twenty four titles to her credit. Most recents are: Pretty Like Jamaica; The Storyteller's Return; Portia Dreams and 100 + Voices for Miss Lou. Other titles include the novel, It Begins With Tears (1997), which Rick Ayers proclaimed as one of the most motivational works for young adults. Love's Promise; 4-Headed Woman; Look a Moko Jumbie; Dance Quadrille and Play Quelbe; Painting Away Regrets; Until Judgement Comes;

Simple Things 3

meditating in the tea house

built in the almond tree

my eyes turn to the bananaquit

as it lands in the fur of cotton

trapped in the lemon tree

then flits to the top of the almond trees

lost among the thick pear-shaped leaves

not even its brilliant yellow-breasted

stomach can i see

but no time to ponder

its actions

lucia feeding the dogs below

attract my attention

as he bangs on the branch of the tree

to get powder’s attention

who raises its hind legs

to the branch and dances

all the while my chime

continues its ceaseless

sounding

tinkle   tinkle    tinkle

like a dervish dancer

caught in the frenzy of his own

swirling

Simple Things 2

walking out unto the patio

picking thyme

hanging clothes on the line

the history of work and food

the love of soil

forced from us

years of free enslaved labor

the image of poverty

stamped unto africa

the almond tree

shedding leaves

sweeping the leaves

from the guinep tree

sighting a deer

kin to those brought to st croix

over 200 years ago

the ocean on the horizon

looking mostly white

a sliver of blue

declaring its true identity

sipping my coffee

lizards scamper

from branch to branch

all is well in my world

this gifted day

simple pleasures

coconut water

freshly cut by

the man who loves me

waking to the sea and the trees

painting the door blue

catching up with a friend

had not heard from in years

his lips brushing mine

sitting at my desk

listening to the breeze sashaying

flirting with trees and

tossing leaves into the air

the fragrance of sweet peppers

pungent but not hot

coconut meat firm and crunchy

door wide open

leaves blow in

he eats his salad

i drink my smoothie

we are

home

Peace Beckons

the peace that i live

emerges from the sand

just as a land crab

that scuttles in and out of its hole

entrance to its home

peace speaks in myriad ways

through sounds colors and winds

in the lapping of the water at the shore

through the steady rhythm of my heart

peace is all that i see

blue bluing

sky skying

sea seaing

nothing needs to be said

breathe and breathe and breathing

water washing sand

sand rinsing sand

leaning into paradise

this is the journey home

the trek where self finds self

and says you are okay

i’m alright

i love you as you are

love me as i am

nothing else for you to be doing

beside self

this is the truth in this moment

taking steps that are not just circular

but leads to a wall

where a window gets erected

so you can see that woman

that you will become

in three decades

and you will look out and say

oh it is you

who have finally arrived

welcome

sit and lookout

on the memories

you’ve created

in peace

The Peace of Laughter

My mother’s laughter is what I remember most about my childhood

Full      engulfing    pure and commanding.

I knew my mother’s laughter could stop thieves from entering our home.

My mother’s laughter made cocky men smile

and jealous women befriend her.

Laughter was the mode of discipline…

As long as Mommy was laughing all infractions were forgiven

As long as Mommy was laughing all requests would be met

As long as Mommy was laughing the sun would rise bright and joy

would define the day.

My mothers has blessed me with her laughter.

Whenever I find myself in a tight spot

or feel overwhelmed I break into riotous laughter

and nothing or no one can stop me

laughter is the path and mouth of peace

laughter is the spirit of my mother

who with dogged determination raised

me to be steadfast and resourceful

Laughter is  love’s proper name

Stepping Out

To be creative is a gift, but with it also comes responsibility, to hone your talent, to share it, to excel and to evolve.

I do not take my talents for granted, and I am enormously grateful for the stories and poems that come to me.  As I branch out into owning and marketing my own intellectual property, rather than hand it off to publishers, I feel a sense of freedom and possibility that I have not felt in a long time.
I am launching my own Journal, Interviewing the Caribbean.  I am establishing my own institutions, no longer hiding behind or trying to fit into other’s agenda, but plowing my own road, and when I’ve gotten that done I will build my own monument.

Define Your Success

Success is about the execution — did you achieve what you set out to do, regardless of the outward appreciation in numbers of attendees or monetary reward? If you did, then that event/project is/was successful and in telling the story or responding to those who ask  how things went you can and should frame your story based on what you set out to do and how well you accomplished your goals.

The success of any project is based on the creator and her/his intention. I am successful because regardless of outward circumstances, I do my best, and if I am pleased with what I have created, and if only one other person finds pleasure in the work, then I met my goals.

I am successful in everything I do as  always put my heart and all my efforts in all my projects.

I am successful because love feeds my creation.