Sometimes you write a poem and when another person reads it, they immediately get into your mind.

Its a very nice feeling when that happens and you don't need to explain much.

Anyway, today I am sharing a poem very dear to me which I wrote many years ago.

I call it SHADOWS. Which may seem unrelated when you first read it. But don't just read...listen.

.Enjoy.

I feel your touch in every dawn.

I hear your voice when the wind blows.

And every friday night, just before midnight, my memory plays a rhythm :

a rhythm that lasts and lasts till I beg the stars for a remedy because it leaves me drenched.

But the stars I beg become a slideshow and I see you and I again on a cloud..Only this cloud feels stable.

Like a couch or better still a sittee .

It reminds me of the black leather sittee in ...??!!??

It can barely hold two people.

Two people from different times with different dreams .

I don't know much about desire, But I know about a tickle in my heart,

one that I cannot ignore lest my spirit breaks.

One that's getting my mind in storms and my blood awake.

By a man I have no right to want. 

And I hear whispers of emotions unfettered, reaching to a duplicate..

And I try to ignore this but EVERY FRIDAY NIGHT, JUST BEFORE MIDNIGHT...

#:-s

We left home

We left home
With a dream in our hearts and a vision in our eyes.
To ward of shame, we fought for fame
While others thought to wine and dine, we thought to shine.
They wanted things so dark,

We didn't want to die,

We cried and god heard us.
Now up high we ride, and we still got our pride.
And when all is said and done,
We will honour the call.
To tell our story, of pain and gain.

I choke

On this fluid rushing through the many unsunk wells of my heart
Every chamber a spring~ Mostly of water but presently bile.

Everyday we play a game of ignorance
Sometimes to hurt
But today, to merely protect self imposed fragility.

I wish I had a map with red marks on the landmines
Better-still , could someone hand me a cloak in the parts where the dust is thickest?
I choke.

Incomplete

My inconclusive historic journey in a land of seekers.

An adventurer of love in the torrent of your eyes.
Yet to find my home.
All the arms outstretched have yet to offer me a clean diamond.
For which I shall spring forth like a butterfly with limited time.
To sample the nectar of my season.
Only I will not kiss the pale hooded darkness just yet.
I am a sorcerer of time lost to the seasonality of my musings.
#peace.

Happy Independence

Happy Independence.
But while we make merry, I don't know about you but I am wondering...
Nkrumah fought and won a war against the white man but did he win against his people?
 Is Africa really free?
Is Libya waking up to a natural sounds of the morning ?
Will Ivorian children walk to church in carefree spirits?
Or is our independence totally lost to the greed and tyranny we are doomed with?
Remember the leaders who oppress us and make us rise against eachother cannot thrive without our support.
Don't fall for the promise of singular shine or the indifference of the pain being in another country.
The strange enemy that we must fight stays in the mirror of every house, in our hearts.
The total liberation of Africa begins with one man...you African, YOU!

Pennies for pain

i wrote this poem for a friend who did odd jobs in the UK during holidays.

I have journeyed.
With a backbreaking load on my head.
Journeyed long.
To this street of chill.
From streets of gold to streets of cold...many weary steps before mine .
Journeyed.
From time zone, to time zone.
Losing cedis and strength to seek a shilling.
Giving pain to gain a penny.
I have come from afar..a shoe wearing thin.
To fill a pocket with a million holes...cold in my face
Journeyed...Seeking a penny for my pain

...

So i have been thinking long and hard about a new post. But the whirlwind life of a growing woman won't give me a minute to complete that thought.

Then my dear Benjamin leaves a comment on one of the poems today that reminds me of my profound love for this niche. And i feel ashamed and guilty that i have been away so long.

So i am pledging to be much more active. After all,  What would a woman be without words?