Oil Paintings, Photos and Books by Giftus R. John

Verses from atop the Mountain

Verses From Atop The Mountain is the essential expression from the heart of a passionate patriot, who maintains a determined stance of struggling purpose within the diaspora, as Dominica, his beloved island home, where nature abounds, beckons. “I Wait For Spring,” illustrates that nostalgic longing quite eloquently. Giftus John is obviously involved with life in Dominica. The wealth of topic selections is rivaled only by the surprising and yet simple and accessible twists of phrases that embellish the work and bring joy to the reader, as it leans on colorful contrasting symbols embedded in Nature.
In “The Village Awakens,” one of my favorites, Giftus paints a lively picture of a village in Dominica that warms the soul of those who have experienced the unlocking of the secret of Dominican rural life. Like him, we all have smiled in awe at the beauty of the simple life that surrounds us. In “What Is Freedom?” another of my favorites, Giftus challenges almost everyone’s view of the word “freedom.” He is mad about the abuse of the doctrine of the right to free speech. He questions one’s interpretation of freedom of association, and of freedom to be “red, green, or blue,” or to be “gay, or straight.” “What is freedom?” he asks. “Is it just a word?”
Verses From atop the Mountain is a delightful journey and a “must have” book for anyone interested in Dominican, and Caribbean poetry.
Ophelia Olivaccé-Marie


Living In Hope

Dusk approaches slowly,
And leaves fall quietly
To the ground,
While from up high,
The birds whistle their tunes:
A sweet melodious sound.

The wind softly whispers,
Through the trees.
The branches slowly sway
Back and forth,
As animals seek shelter
From the darkness and their prey.

The church bells resound,
As the aging sexton
Dutifully signals six o’clock
Slow and methodical,
Like he has always done
For the village’s faithful flock.

Mothers, in the village, grow restless,
As their children
Reluctantly stop their ring games,
Responding slowly and grudgingly
To their mothers’ pleas,
Now screaming aloud their names.

The waves roll in quietly,
Lapping on the shore.
Small crabs, scouring the sand
For something to eat,
Beat a hasty retreat,
Seeking refuge on dry land.

The sun slips quietly
Beneath the horizon
Leaving a soft, green glow
As it slowly inches from sight.
And we live in hope,
To see it rise again tomorrow.

Copyright ©Giftus John 2015