Stieve Fernandez
Bio
Hello am a 36 year old Jamaican national three years into my journey of creative writing
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Stories (60)
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Youth
Sitting here thinking About these ghetto youths. All the struggles they face. All their dirty boots. Its time they stop, Rod and kill, and shoot But it’s the struggles of life Which forces them to loot. Could we but educate our sons, And feed them truth. What do you see when? You are looking into these mother’s eyes. And watch her son bleed out, And hear her woeful cries. And as his blood runs cold, Here comes the wretched flies. Remember Timbuktu? And the pyramids Diamond, Onyx and Gold In all our villages. We had great books of old Knowledge unlimited. Spiritual phenomenon unfold, From kabalistic scrolls. Black men rise up! You who once walked on water. You who told the meaning To pharaoh’s dreams. From your lineage came The Shepard who killed goliath. Egyptians, Assyrians, Babylonians. We are all that and more. We have been slaves We have been slavers. We have been gods. We have been godless. But most of all we have been So why are we now? Oppressed, suppressed, repressed? Being marginalized yet idolized?
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
My needs
I need a lover, Who, Thinks its ok to cry. A lover Who Chastises, but understands the reasons why. Who Forgives me, even love the way I lie. I need a lover Who, Consoles me, frustrated! She lets out a sigh! A lover, Who, Would be devastated! If ever I should die Who, Enjoys picnics, laughing hard, under sunny skies. I need a lover Who Denies me not as the cock crows thrice A lover Who Stays! Despite what’s rolled on the dice Who says I do! Then laughs as we are showered with rice I need a lover Who Picks me up when I’m feeling down A lover who Asks me for a song, ‘cause she likes the sound. Who Kisses me softly before laying down.
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
Acceptance
This overwhelming passion. That my body longs for. Is scarring upon my mind, Those things that I adore. To love you yet hate you, In the same moment, Is an act of terrorism, Upon my conscience. Is this love? Or some unknown emotion? That steals my mentality, And clouds my decision. Sometimes I worry, About what we have had. But now, I primarily worry about, What we should have! What we could have! What we would have! Life is a fight, One that never ends. It is a fight for freedom, From everything. A fight to be captured, By something. To get away from half our experiences. Yet embrace the other half with vigor. So, how could we be certain? Which to chase after? Which is worthy of the hunt?
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
Nature
It is with great pleasure I lay me here today As my body absorbs the moment My thoughts are out at play I watch the crystalline waters race To meet its salted kin O’er tumbled pebble faces ‘t makes eddies where whirlpools spin. Immure in nature is my desire My amore for her, non-porous As the devotion of the dove. How lovely is this humming bird? Not much bigger a bumble bee So far her humming’s heard As she moves from tree to tree. Inquisitive is her demeanor She just cannot let me be I think she saw me the moment I saw her Inspecting me with great tenacity Oblivious to my fears. She comes within inches of my eyes Obsessed by their glare? Then zigzagging around my head She lands on a lock of my hair I so envy your existence Moving from here to there Having no indenture And all the time to spare You respect not mortal impose Nor any erected boundary Taking nectar at your dispose From their fountains you drink proudly Alas it seems satisfied You vivacious curiosity Lo here comes the dragonfly as you depart from me Her blood stone onyx eyes Majestically set upon their bezel Patrol earth tree and sky From her perch on a hair of nettle.
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
War
The fog, thick! The morning, damp. Blood soaked earth. A soldier’s camp. Carrion birds high. Death stained air. Wounded warriors cry. Stone cold faces Void of fear! Plumes of smoke. Worm towards heaven. Buttoned his cloak. Sat around the fire. Soldiers! Approximately seven. Whiskey bottle passing. Drowning their pain. Anyone hungry? Asking. Stirring the beans. Reheating the grain. From his pocket, A letter retrieved. Eyes, sunk ’n sockets. Her perfumes faded! Heart wrenched! Grieved! Through the window Watching, sobbing! Bereaved! Assumed herself a widow. Refusing to wave. Now! Gone! Relieved! Cozy little cottage. Once was a home. Favorite meal, pottage. Evenings she’d make. He wants some! No love here! Only the brave! Life without care! Inside they’re dead! Awaiting the grave! The Stillness fractured! Balls of lead. Blood vessels raptured! Five fleeing soldiers! Two shattered heads! The pot overturned. Whiskey bottle spilling. Covertly they returned. The enemy faction. Making a killing! ‘T was once romantic Dreaming of war. Running! Freezing! Frantic! Her letter lost. He’s forever scarred! Two souls stolen. Death’s hideous grasp! One leg, broken. Twigs, they fashioned, A makeshift cast. Now five soldiers. Just one musket. Carried on shoulders. Leg badly shattered! Wayward sounding trumpet! Safety yards away. Enemies in pursuit. Look! Guards! Hooray! Last words spoke! Enemy musket smoke!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
Emotions
How utterly captivating, this action. Entrapping a simple mortal. With such magnanimous force of attraction. Shedding tears, sitting upon this log. Approach me dear princess. Please come kiss this frog. In my chest a pump, palpitating! Driving fever through my veins. Like a wild horse, erratically racing! An untamed emotion, poisons me thus. Assaults my body, its venomous thrill. Invisible it executes its control. Results obvious! Like a crazy ant, driven By a parasitic fungus. To the highest point on the blade of grass he’s ridden. So I roam the highway of my feelings. Devastated still I drive. As though with the devil I do my dealings.
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
Fidel
Your cattle eat my grass. Whilst mine starve and die. Consider yourself the upper cast. Whilst I in the mire lie. “History will absolve me” Controlling my nations produce. Exporting its wheat and rye. My meal has no nutritional use. Yet to my face you lie. “History will absolve me” Your daughters, princesses. Mine, are prostitutes. Your daughters, sleep in castle recesses. Mine, roam the streets with brutes. “History will absolve me” You spend your summers at the beaches. Me? In the cane fields, a vagabond! You, eating me and my children, leeches! Though we never entered a pond! “History will absolve me” Abuela cannot afford cataract surgery. Corruption is the authority’s mission. Will you politicians ever get arrested for perjury? As seen by the clairvoyant in her visions! “History will absolve me” Your police laugh at my dying sons. I can still hear their dreadful cries. Each morning at the rising sun. I see dead bodies laden with flies. “History will absolve me” Shall I not want for better? Does my ambition not overflow inside? Is it not why I’m called ‘go getter’? Or do I simply sit and wait by the wayside? “History will absolve me” Is it not natural, legal even? That a man should fight to save his self, His family, his nation? Condemn me! It matters not! “History will absolve me”
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
You
‘tis now three years Since I’ve seen you last. These gushing tears, Redeem pleasures, from a distant past. Where ruby plated lips, Beneath black and gold mascaraed mask. Makes succulent gestures. Suggesting they befit the task. Digressing from the ball. Ascending winding stairs. Lifting your gown, please don’t fall! Moonshine glimmer, from your bejeweled hair. Alone! Perched! we stood. Fledglings on a castle’s stone shelf. Displaying our affection, the only way we could. Such unlikely couple, the goddess and the elf. Together, we have always been. The envy of all ages. In the eyes of those who’s seen. Oblivious to our catastrophic rages. A goddess is to be obeyed! Have it thus she would. Responding, please don’t be delayed. Fulfil her desires as fast you could! How elegiac the mood. Which on me has descended. The pall of your wrath, I’ve with stood! Shan’t it ever, our love, be mended? Ensnared in your charm. The victim of desire. ‘t will for sure lead me to harm. To the gates of my sire!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
The Fram
A loud crackling of moving ice. A bitterly cold wind! What creaking sounds the ‘Fram’ made! As ice encrust him. “Abandon ship” the captains call. As patience grows thin. Already short on food. We’ve eaten four sled dogs. We numbered roughly a dozen. Vikings in our veins. Prepared our sleds, packed our gear. We were now on the ice. There were mice aboard the ‘Fram’, I knew from their droppings. Next to the flour bags, Into which they’d chewed ragged little holes. What will they do now? Shall the icy grave of this ship, Also become their tomb? Or does nature, mice, equip for ice? “Gather for a picture!” I yelled as loud as I could. Which I this wind, Mounted to very little. Still a few of the guys heard. And alerted the rest. I made my way down wind. Affixed my tripod to the ice. I laughed beneath the hood. As I brought my lens to focus. If this fate continues…well! Man powered sleds? Nansen assumes a confident stance. Staring ahead as though the pole, Is just beyond… who knows where! The dogs could care less But deep inside I know. His thoughts sung a different tune. For he knows all too well what lies, Just beyond… our slow agonizing deaths! I curse the day I was conceived. That brought me to this world. Spirit of exploration I’ve always had. Yet, this! This elusive dream. This yearning to make history. To conquer the elements. Subdue them even. This North Pole… shall be our tomb! History has always been. The domain of the brave. We shalt no matter how. Though I’m plagued with questions. There is nothing to say now. For our escape is in all but possible. What to say? I’m stuck to this fate. Though I’d rather not!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
Words
Beneath the mighty fig. Sit I, lost in wonder. Are you holding up the heavens? This and more I ponder. The things you had witnessed If only to me you’d tell. Like the fames that roared around you. The day the slaves rebelled. Of the night pirates trekked, Through this lonely valley. You, still, their secret kept. Despite all begging from me. What sounds the forest made? Two hundred years ago. Did the gusty ocean breeze, Still whistle down below? Was the Potoo still watching? With its black and yellow eyes? The dead of night patrolling! While sounding its dreadful cries! If only you could utter, A single legible reply. I would melt like heated butter. I’d stay here till I die! Yet silently still you stood. Leaves tickling the belly of the sky. Meandering through the breeze. Speak! Please! Don’t be shy!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
I failed
How dare you forget? The way my tongue, Made you whet. How dare you! How dare you forget? They days your life, Was but regret! How dare you! How dare you forget? You’d cry yourself to sleep. Before we met. How dare you! How dare you forget? The way my love, Your heart beset. How dare you! How dare you forget? That I was, Your soul’s pet. How dare you! How dare you forget? ‘A happy couple’ The impression we set. How dare you! How dare you forget? To be mine, In wealth or debt! How dare you! How dare you forget? That before God, Our vows were set. How dare you! How dare you forget? That forever has come, Not yet! How dare you!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
Piracy
Heavily he coughs, alone! He laughs. Blood ooze from his mouth. A deep dreadful gasp. Eyelids flung wide open. Eerily staring left to right. Slowly he slips from this world. Laying on his back. He slips into the darkness. A sudden rush o sensation! Drags him back to the living. Mechanically his spine flexes. Bringing him to a sitting position. Forcing his cloudy eyes open. Looking around the room bewildered. Searching! ‘Could this be hell of heaven?’ His mind jump starts and accelerate! ‘How am I still here?’ he asks his thoughts. His heart beats like a runaway engine. I should be dead by now. Yet staring back at him, three guards. A fourth a doctor! It seems. “That’s it come back to us!” The doctor menacingly says. Injecting a concoction in his vein. “Trying to cheat the ‘angman?’ Stepping closer, a guard asks. “Ya think suicide shall save ya!” “Ya lowlife pirate scum!” “At sunrise ya shalt provide,” “The public with amusement” “And the ‘angman with fun!” “Ah, doc! Preparing the execution ‘as begun. His arms now tightly bound. To the chair in which he sits. The break of dawn crawls into his cell A soft blue glow descends upon him Somewhere a cock crows piercingly. Shattering the silence of dawn. “Your last meal above ground” Says a guard before letting out a yawn. The rattling of keys. Clank! With a screech his cell door opens. A warm drink in a tin cup. A slab of bread. “No meat?” he asks The guard makes a hysterical laugh. “What for?” returns the guard “Y’ll be dead before it gets digested!” The cell door slams shut, the guard chuckles. Hands still bound. “Damn you guard!” He sits staring at the stem escaping the cup. Outside, the crowd gathers at the gallows. The air thick with excitement. A peddler offers smoked oysters from a cart. A young child sits on her dad’s shoulders. Affording a clear view of the spectacle. Her dad nibbles at peanuts. A gate opens! The crowd cheers! Out comes the procession, escorted by guards. Nathaniel Gordon, making his way to meet God. An official, the hangman and the noose. Standing on the gallows, waiting. A small flight of stairs The noose affixed to his neck. A nod from the hangman. “Nathaniel Gordon, for the crime” “Of piracy in breach of the act “ “Of 1820. You have been found guilty.” “And hereby sentenced to be hung by the neck till dead!” “May god have mercy on your soul!” As if on cue, the hangman, Pulls a lever. The crowd goes wild!
By Stieve Fernandez4 years ago in Poets
