Colours, draped over background <br /> green, yellow, and brown; <br /> setting suns cooling <br /> turns to twilight's settling down; <br /> rhythms islands, Jamaican <br /> sounds round and round; <br /> tones aflame in nature's evenings, <br /> time's stress quietly drowned. <br /> <br /> Singing's standard, <br /> Rasta's beat woos this crowd; <br /> stations handled, tickets sold, <br /> ‘Ja' praised, no doubts; <br /> vibration's soothe; <br /> minds, hearts, and souls tones tout; <br /> travels' they're past, <br /> survivals mete; unto Ja we shout. <br /> <br /> Stage sounds, resound to heaven's highs, <br /> ah, the music's sweets; <br /> plays loud, does the reggaes' heat, <br /> ‘Natty Congo', pride's spirits beat; <br /> centered scene, light's night, <br /> rhythm's sound, soul's teeth; <br /> tight, this band, five men aloud, <br /> the crowd's heart, toe's tapping feet. <br /> <br /> Flowing on, the reggae builds, <br /> into life's energies surreal; <br /> music, blessed through Ja's kiss, <br /> the setting sun, life's deal; <br /> Ja's message, outs men's hardened hearts, <br /> its taste his highest seal; <br /> supreme this mark; full rhythm's torch <br /> in sounds, ‘Natty Congo's' word is real.<br /><br />michael walkerjohn<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/natty-congo/
