Liberian Literary Magazine
‘Twas Brillig
Richard Wilson Moss
Gift
Come and let us giv e, as
w e gather
The heart of god, its blood
The core of the earth, its
iron
The sky, composite of sun
I ts darkness.
Unsightly is the time
Of the day w eighed
On scales fixed, the false
w eight
We giv e to passing hours.
Like rainbow bursts of
raindrops
On serv ice station islands
I n heav y showers
Let us giv e to barren fields
Of our years
I ts different flowers.
Promoting Liberian Literature, Arts and Culture
Wanted to inv oke fire
Of none.
Begged a cigarette
From an insolent child
Skipping to his grav e
Across parking lot gravel
Worked long ago from
mountains
Craw ling across the w orld
At one inch a year.
The White Man
Watched the I roquois
dance
Around fires and told the
tourists
Would soon join in
Listen for the big drum
And there it is
But I hesitate, undecided
Remain seated beyond the
ring
Passion w ithin demanded I
dance
Dance around fires, leap
and turn
Before the flame
Before it burns out
But I dare not
Oh, by god, I dare not.
Diamonds Are Lies
Diamonds are lies
Nothing sparkles
Not ev en stars
Nothing gleams
Not high lighted crystal
glasses
On blue shelv es behind
dark bars
This luster of things
I n guarded eyes
I s the fracture of beauty
By hammers of ashes.
Although I Am God
Mov ements Of
Cigarettes
Taking my next to last drag
Walked to bum another
smoke
But av oid asking
Those I shun
And those I admire
Although I am god
I rake leaves and trim trees
And then rest.
I w ash clothes and dishes
I change the bed
And lie dow n on clean
sheets
To die alone
42
Our People
When it rained the sinks
w ere still dry
I n camp houses, dark w ork
horses
Left in damp fields, they
shook
Their bronze heads almost all
at once
Fires flared and smoked from
leaks
In rusted stovepipes
And those inside, our
people
Had suppers of bread and
beans.