Bridget Pearson Navenne, France

A French national, Brigitte Poirson, alias Bridget Pearson, has recently published a book, "Poems from the Free County", in New York and several poetry or history books (a historical play) in France and in England, thus collecting awards. She contributes to the National Library of Poetry's anthologies, and regularly works with a South African writer. She enjoys distorting truisms through words, as a means of transgressing mental barriers. Her recurring theme is freedom. Poetry is a supreme human experience mixing exultation and suffering, a trip towards overcoming the obstacles of space and time, life and death. Definitely something to be shared..

Child Labor No one about, to yell: Insane; Nothing around, to quell My pain; Just agony, to swell My vein. I drop and drop, all blood and cell, On rein.. Just to give earth another birth: So plain!

How I Will Miss You How I will miss you When I am dead, Miss you in everlasting death, Miss the stout unruly curvature Of your mounts, The fortitude O your rocks, The magnitude Of your men, Your unsubdued rectitude. How icy, lonely and ark, how hollow when I can no longer hear The throb of your screams, Grope for another dimension of life In glimmering scales Or furry tales, Sound your infinite, untamed solitude's, Ever pregnant of a multitude Of infant freedoms. How I will miss you when time stops! How can I face eternal death Or eternal life Without you, My own true land?!

Hail Africa Hail Africa, Full of race, The lords be with you, You are cursed among nations, And black flesh, the fruit of your soil, is cursed. Holy Africa, Mother of humans, Cry for us, killers, Now, and at the hour Of your death, Amen!

All poems Copyright © 1996 Poet's Name. All rights reserved.