Fire on the Water

by George Elliott Clarke

Book by Clarke, George Elliott

2 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1998

About the author

A seventh-generation Nova Scotian, George Elliott Clarke was born in 1960 in Windsor Plans, Nova Scotia. He is known as a poet, as well as for his two-volume anthology of Black Writing from Nova Scotia, Fire in the Water. Volume One contains spirituals, poety sermons, and accounts from 1789 to the mid-twentieth century; Volume Two collects the work of the Black Cultural Renaissance in Nova Scotia, which, in Clarke's words, "speaks to people everywhere about overcoming hardships and liberating the spirit." Currently on faculty at Duke University, he is now writing both a play and an opera on slavery in Nova Scotia, a reformulation of Shelley's The Cenci. He has won many awards including the 1981 Prize for Adult Poetry from the Writers Federation of Nova Scotia, he was the 1983 first runner-up for the Bliss Carman Award for Poetry at the Banff Centre School of Arts and 1991 winner of the Archibald Lampman Award for Poetry from the Ottawa Independent Writers.

Books: Saltwater Spirituals and Deeper Blues (Pottersfield, 1983); Whylah Falls (Polestar, 1990, 2000); Provencal Songs (Magnum Book Store, 1993); Lush Dreams, Blue Exile: Fugitive Poems, 1978-1993 (Pottersfield, 1994); Provencal Songs II (Above/ground, 1997); Whylah Falls: The Play (Playwrights Canada, 1999, 2000); Beatrice Chancy (Polstar Books, 1999); Gold Indigoes (Carolina Wren, 2000); Execution Poems (Gaspereau, 2001); Blue (Raincoat, 2001); Odysseys Home: Mapping African-Canadian Literature (UofT Press, 2002)

Reviews

[M.W.P.M. · Rating 4 out of 5]

The second volume of Fire on the Water, an anthology of black Nova Scotian writing, brings together various works of prose, plays, and poetry by the following authors: Frederick Ward, Alfreda Smith, Walter Borden, Gloria Wesley-Desmond, Maxine Tynes, Sylvia Hamilton, Peter A. Bliss Bailey, Faith Nolan, David Woods, and George Elliott Clarke...

I made a
Song with your
Name

Sort of
Whined it and
Cried it I made a
Song with your
Name - and when I
Sighed it, I
Put it, I
Put a spell be-
Side it what made a
Song.

I made a
Song with you
Name.

I wore your
Dress and apron in your
Step I made a
Song with your
Name - and when I
Tried it, I
Bowed and hid my eyes to
Hide it what made a
Song.

I made a
Song with your
Name.

Tried to de-
Fine it I
Pined it I made a
Song with your
Name - it bore your
Wrist lace and knitted
Charm tied about your
Face what made a
Song.

- Around 12 Bars in 3/4 Time, Frederick Ward, pg. 15-16

* * *

When I plant a little seed,
I know that God is there.
I know that He will help me feed
And water it so dear.

I pray that He will send the rain,
To moisten and help it grow.
And when I go to check it out,
I'll be glad to see it glow.

- My Seed Will Grow, Alfreda Smith, pg. 28

* * *

You must know that you are part of your creator,
And hold within you power to create.
Don't be afraid to fall
At attempting mankind's scale,
Perhaps you're not a singer -
You are a song!
You are a note of ringing spleandour
In the universal anthem,
Know your sound -
Know your sound -
You have a life of many pages
To expand the book of ages,
Take a pen, take some ink,
And set it down.
Be a sentence, not a word.
Be of self, and not of herd,
It is your right,
You have the choice
To be your spokesman,
With your voice.

Now step outside your cage
And touch tomorrow.

- Walk On, Walter Borden, pg. 40

* * *

Children of darkness,
Torn and battered,
You have slipped the savage
Bonds of slavery.

Children of darkness,
Full of courage,
Strength and endurance,
You have survived.

Children of darkness,
Facilitating equality,
Rise up and take
The reins of your destiny!

- To Nova Scotia Blacks, Gloria Wesley-Desmond, pg. 68

* * *

We are Africville and Preston,
North and East
We are Portia White singing to a long-ago king
We are Edith Clayton weaving the basketsong of life
Black and old with history
and strong with the new imperative.
We are Graham Jarvis bleeding on the road in Weymouth Falls.
We are the Black and the invisible
We are here and not here
We are gone but never leave
We have voice and heart and wisdom
We are here
We are here
We are here.

- Black Song Nova Scotia, Maxine Tynes, pg. 74

* * *

Cocoa brown cattails
standing erect
asleep in fields
of powder white snow
waiting to be awakened by Spring.
Birds pass quickly:
no messages.

- Untitled, Sylvia Hamilton, pg. 93

* * *

I wrote one thousand words
and thought ten thousand thoughts

I have traveled mountains, valleys
and rivers for years

To find one single answer

What a fool to write so much
and think so long

What a fool to fail
for beauty

Never quite knowing the answer
never quite knowing the truth

what a fool to wait for
the final disappointment.

- The Twilight Hour, Peter A. Bliss Bailey, pg. 111

* * *

A blues expression of sensuality.

Well, if the world's alright, I must be wrong,
Cause I could jellyroll all day long.

Mama told me my jelly wasn't right,
but it fells so good, makes my life.

Jellyroll'n'jellyroll'n'jellyroll'n'jellyroll'n...

Upside down or rightside up
any which way till I get enough.

If it feels good, do it night and day,
Helps you be happy, laughing all the way.

Morning, evening, afternoon delight,
Sweet tasting jellyroll makes my life.

Jellyroll'n'jellyroll'n'jellyroll'n'jellyroll'n...

- Jellyroll, Faith Nolan, pg. 124

* * *

My father read the Bible
Each night before he
went to bed,
Then he would down a
shot of whisky
That kicked like a donkey
through his head.
And to this day
No word of a lie,
No one's sure if it's the religion
or the whisky,
Keeping that old man alive.

- My Father, David Woods, pg. 141

* * *

seeking after hard things -
muscular work or sweat-swagger action -
i rip wispy, Help Wanted ads,
dream of water-coloured sailors
pulling apart insect wings of maps,
stagger down saxophone blues avenues
where blackbirds cry for crumbs.
i yearn to be ulyssean, to roam
foaming oceans or wrest
a wage from tough, mad adventure.
for now, i labour language,
earn a cigarette
for a poem, a coffee
for a straight answer,
and stumble, punch-drunk,
down these drawn and quartered streets,
tense hands manacled
to empty pockets.

- salvation army blues, George Elliott Clarke, pg. 150

[Sue · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fire on the Water Vol Two is a collection of Nova Scotia black poetry and writings. I enjoyed the book and its many individuals historical writings and the descriptive poetry.