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We believe every bad action can come back at you at any time. We tend to associate bad things happening to us as an effect of what we did in the past.

Evry year in de month of February,
Guyanese does celebrate Mashramani;
Mash does showcase we Guyanese culture,
Like we art, we craft and we literature.
Some ah we does play de steel pan,
Some does flounce in de masquerade ban;
Some does display beautiful costumes in de floats,
Some does have excursion in de ferry boats.
Some does do drama and recitation,
Some does dance or sing in de calypso competition;
Some does tek part in de modelling,
Some does do gymnastics and tumbling.
As Guyanese we gat to show love for we country,
We must all tek part in Mashramani;
After all Mash is not about race nor religion
It is a Guyanese festive occasion;
So, come join wid me
And leh we have a Happy Mashramani

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ArDwOIcSudukf2MQmEmz7oZQ6ZAKFPah1XX0i9pC7wQ/edit?usp=sharing

"Rafael Pombo"

Hasta cuándo estaremos esperando lo que

no se nos debe… Y en qué recodo estiraremos

nuestra pobre rodilla para siempre! Hasta cuándo

la cruz que nos alienta no detendrá sus remos.

Hasta cuándo la Duda nos brindará blasones

por haber padecido…

Ya nos hemos sentado

mucho a la mesa, con la amargura de un niño

que a media noche, llora de hambre, desvelado…

Y cuándo nos veremos con los demás, al borde

de una mañana eterna, desayunados todos!

Hasta cuándo este valle de lágrimas, a donde

yo nunca dije que me trajeran.

De codos

todo bañado en llanto, repito cabizbajo

y vencido: hasta cuándo la cena durará.

Hay alguien que ha bebido mucho, y se burla,

y acerca y aleja de nosotros, como negra cuchara

de amarga esencia humana, la tumba…

Y menos sabe

ese oscuro hasta cuándo la cena durará!

I was a man born with the fight within me,
A man grown with the pains around me,
With a crisis from birth I was grown pained,
Me my story and I are one,
Because me I was born to die early,
Because it is a belief where I’m from that we sickled don’t live past 9,
But the Irony is me the warrior sickled had to witness my twin chiseled to death.​

Sickled at birth,
I learned the meaning to live,
In and out of hospitals that became my second home,
In and out of crisis I was raised a warrior,
I learned how to fight the battles within me because I had to live to bring a change,
I had to live past 9 cause I was not gonna leave my mom behind,
Because the death of a twin Ironically taught me how to live,​

Cause me I’m not chiseled  to death,
 I’m not chiseled to pain,
Though there are times my heart and body feels chiseled,
I’m not chiseled to the sickle,
I’m chiseled to change,
Chiseled to happiness,
Chiseled to God,
Chiseled to bring my story, my future, and me to the world around me.

Here's the link to the Poems Book:

By Edonusem Pomeyie