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Amarantha's journey as a writer has been diverse and dynamic, taking her through various realms of storytelling. Throughout her career, Amarantha has explored different avenues of writing, including crafting press releases for corporate roles, penning scripts for television shows, contributing articles to prominent newspapers in Australia, poems and publishing a book.  


In 2022, she transferred her skills into playwriting. The result was the one-woman show ,  "Oshun", which had a sold-out season at La Mama theatre.


Recognizing her talent and potential, Amarantha was chosen as one of twelve gifted and promising early career playwrights to participate in the Pathways program. This initiative, organized by La Mama theatre in collaboration with Australian Plays Transforms, provided her with valuable mentorship and a supportive environment to further develop her craft.


Throughout the first half of 2022, she immersed herself in this nurturing container, honing her skills and widening her creative lens.​Currently, Amarantha is in the development phase of her next theatrical endeavor, "Sankofa."  This lyrical ensemble play delves into themes of magic, mysticism, and spirituality, drawing inspiration from her West African ancestry. The story revolves around a submissive girl in colonial Jamaica who through story and ceremony, rises and fights for a treaty with the English, ultimately establishing a settlement for freed slaves. The story is inspired by Nanny of the Maroons, Jamaica's national hero. With her natural talents and diverse writing experiences, Amarantha continues to push the boundaries of storytelling, captivate audiences, and explore the rich tapestry of human experiences through her work.


opyright Amarantha Robinson


She had a vibe All. Her. Own.
Conformity lost its grip and bemoaned
Stiff old school narratives brazenly dethroned

What appeared to be a lowly peon has cut loose with a lyrical prance
Whilst the rest heed the call for a militant stance

She had a vibe you could smell from a fair distance
The scent of sage dripped from her pores, with no resistance

She had a vibe and it soothed like a warm lush Caribbean breeze
One that made hearts melt and even the coldest feel at ease

She had her own vibe and knew what felt good inside
It made her choices look like a wild chaotic ride

She had a vibe and used it like a sailor’s compass
Letting it navigate her way round this Earthly campus
Wondering where it would lead, she let it carry her on its sleeve
Pain could no longer weave a mirage and her mind deceive

Good feeling and bliss, now high on her list
If it didn’t hit the mark, well then....
she gave it a miss

This path decries that oft treasured trophies, like corporate careers, might be skipped by
But there is a knowing that more attuned pleasures on the horizon lie

She had a vibe and
learnt to choose herself above all else
There’d been a stripping down to softness by life’s insistent pelt
The cradling of God’s calloused curves had shown her what was needed
That the Universe wanted her joy and her true desires are what it heeded

Now, she wisely closes her eyes and taps into the subtle energies that belie
Picking the next thing based on what scintillates the wonder between her thighs

Nourishment, movement and receiving are the bouncy bottom of her bosom’s cleaving
Music, magic and miraculous manifestations, the only means of upheaving

She has a vibe and it’s
This Queen has taken a rightful seat on her throne

Black Women

Do you hide behind your smile?

Shield grief behind effervescence?

Do you silence what you feel?

As daughters of slaves there is an ocean of pain running through our veins.

Our ancestral eyes have seen things that would cause nightmares today:
taken from our tribe, carried on ships, sold as chattel, beaten, worked to the bone, witnessing sanctioned murder again and again.
Our bodies remember the crack of the whip and penetrations against our will. Living lives that weren’t our own: the constant contraction of what we wanted, needed and felt being denied for someone else to prosper.

There is mourning and weeping on the inside still. And we wonder why we snap ... Why they call us angry.

Anger is the mildest symptom of us carrying these memories in our skin.

But we can’t live expecting others to understand, show pity or be sorry for what their forefathers have done and what continues.

The only thing we can control is ourselves. What we are being asked to do is witness our own pain.

Set some quiet time aside.
Let those African mothers and daughters carried across the seas sit by our side and weep, and weep and weep.

Before we demand others to listen to our agony, we must hear our own.

Be with that hurting part of ourselves and let her speak.
Because her suffering is not so much from the infliction of wounds, it’s that she was not allowed to cry.

She was not witnessed. No-one acknowledged her right to rage and express sorrow. No-one came to comfort her and let her know that her river of tears carries the seeds of humanity’s awakening.

Luckily, she has You now.
She is walking with you, inside you, waiting for you to let her rise. She is waiting for you to witness her grief and gnashing of teeth.

Hold space for her.
Just your radiance and your presence is enough. Let her tell you her stories, the horrors she has seen. Sit still and hold her hand. Remind her that you’ve got her.
You, mighty woman, are here now.

This is the healing she needs.


On the surface, I know it doesn’t look like much
If you compare to the riches others have, with effort, s
erved up

A life divergent off the beaten track can look messy
Depending on the lens you use,
it might be hard to decipher the blessings

Man-made luxuries and titles have passed most artists and artistes by
And there are sometimes pangs of envy, we cannot lie

Keep an unyielding hope that taking the road less traveled will unfold
Its own tailored and perfect pot of gold

Painters, makers, musicians and dancers know what I’m saying
They’ve born the brunt of stern judgements traditional voices and their families have lain

“What are you doing with your life?”
They shout and scream
And though it sounds extreme
It’s from a place of sadness that they themselves have not pursued their own dreams

This generation of creatives is here to crack generational chains
To cease the hypnosis of going to a job you hate, living stunted, grunting and in pain

It’s time we chose our joy and what brings us pleasure
Release the bizarre idea that pain and suffering is a path to which we must tether
The era of slavery is now in the rear view mirror
Let’s free our minds from that distorted past and put on a tune radically different

There is something needed on this Earth in us revelling in making something from scratch
It’s like licking cake batter from the spoon of a muffin batch

Craft from pleasure
Channel in art from the heavens
We are raising the planet’s frequency together

Have faith in the future
Back yourself in the brave choice to do what you love
Ignore the critics, even if they are blood

Have faith that by following your bliss magic on the horizon will rise
Artists have special angels walking alongside
Hone your craft. Keep up that elevated inspired vibe
This is a wild horse, you are fated to ride
And via this wondrous exhilaration is how the whole of you will thrive

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