SLAVE OF SOCIETY

Posted: September 10, 2017 in THE NEGRO
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The birth of a child,
Eyes of the onlookers decides its fate
Predicted for greatness if a male.
With pride he is circumcised,
As fathers hit their chests like drums
My birth drew only nods of congratulations,
Not the usual pat on the back,
That calls for merry throughout the night to bid welcome.
From the moment the Oracle declared me a girl,
My fate was designed into an asanka.

Declared unfit to step where men left a print,
I watch the hopes of many girls fade.
Society was always quick to remind me of my place;
“You are a girl” as if it was a curse
Yet they pray to Asaase Yaa
To grant them prosperity.
When they treat me like I have no integrity.
Seeking to always see my knees kissing the earth,
For that is “my place”
As they say.

Insolent the call me, when I ask “why”
Inquisitive they brand me when I inquire “how”
As they realize “what” I can become, they declare me a threat.
Clothing me in the garment of extreme feminism.
The reward I get for a genuine criticism.
Is this the heaven I was promised,
As I ruled in my mother’s womb?
Why deliver me in the jaws of inequality?
Is it that I came with so much sin?
Or society is too sinful to accept my pureness?

Deep within I sense fear in the eyes of society,
It’s heart skips a beat as I still walk on
In this societal bondage.
You a quick to remind me that I’m weak.
In your bid to cover your tracks of insecurity
I smile at what good exudes from my being,
Though you interpret it as a roar.
I seek no vengeance, not on men or society
But I must be fed with the same spoon that feeds the “lords”
The respect of time, results in patience
It is time, my time as a Woman.

#THMpoetry ©2017

NOTE
ASANKA : A traditional bowl made from clay used for cooking in Ghana .

ASAASE YAA : Name of the earth goddess known mostly in the Akan Ethnic groups in Ghana.

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FLUTE GODDESS

Posted: August 8, 2017 in Uncategorized
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Melodies soft in nature,
Yet burning like fire.
Music, piercing like a hot spear
Though soothing like a mother’s comfort.
Playing through the day,
And drawing curtains over the night.

A touch of elegance;
As you play the anthem of the night
Beneath the stare of the full moon.
Making known the silent language of the heart.
A sound as magical as the hand that holds the flute.
A sight as beautiful as the lips of the wielder, …

#THMpoetry © 2017

MANY FACE GOD

Posted: August 7, 2017 in HARD NUTS, THE HAYMAKER
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A face for a moment ,
An expression for the second,
A life for the season,
A smile for the hour,
A cry for the minute.

She lives a life only she can explain
I try to dilute her gestures
Only to have it in high concentration
The many face god
Why choose me for a visit??

To be continued…

#THMpoetry © 2017

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Upon the heated lands of the village
Beside the gentle waters ,
Flowing from the eyes of Mother Earth.
Beneath the mountains there I sit.
Upon the soothing carpet of nature,
I draw my hope and inspiration.
For that is the only way I adore that which is within me.
My fingers yearn for the dirt it was made for.

I cry to the mountain of my fathers,
Seeking an audience at their banquet
But all I hear is a loud silence.
Dear fathers, my fingers yearn for the dirt it was made for.
I wail to the hearing of my mothers
But I’m met with loud laughs
The output of daily today gossips.

Time has come to give hope to the green leaf.
Give it a shade to harness it’s growth.
In my mansion of solitude
I create that which is not made yet.
But with no guidance I pack it into my tent.
Elders of our heritage!!!
Do we not see innovation is in shortage
Not because none exists, but none is natured.

The gateway to success stretches it’s arms wide
Let’s ride on the new tide
The tide of enhancing youthful skills.
The wave of generational innovation.
Our dear village hungers for a handshake with the youth.
Elders of our land,
Grant the green leaves a drink of empowerment.
For with mud our fingers are covered.

#THMpoetry © 2017

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He that treats his herbs with contempt,
Eyes the beautiful African woman with disgust.
Yet scraps his torn pocket for white capsules
Sits for hours to watch a white lie in the glass,
Only to spit a wad of cola at the sound of Atumpan.

“I hate African leaders”
The anthem he so proudly sings
Yet lives like the mouse in his own house.
Preaches the gospel of white supremacy ,
To the glory of the white heaven.

He that looks to the setting sun
Cursing the very day of his naming
Like he came from the womb of a western goddess.
Making me as myself,
Did he suck a white breast ?

Chastising the scent of dear apapransa
Only to salivate over an imaginary pizza
But leaves no trace of kenkey in seconds.
He that knows not the route to his native airport,
Yet prides himself with the history of JFK

Self acclaimed political analyst,
The icon of pure family mismanagement.
So proud to endorse BBC and DW
Yet fails to use the thump to validate
his critique.
The general of matured incompetence.

Wishing to be treated like a king
Though have achieved nothing.
With a belly like a decorated pumpkin
You deserve nothing but flogging
Dear Honorable Black Racist.

NOTE:
I AM NOT A RACIST,  HAVE NEVER BEEN OR WILL EVER BE.
I APPRECIATE THE WORKS OF EACH RACE AND ADMIRE THEM FOR WHAT THEY STAND FOR.

BUT I HATE AFRICANS WHO SPEND THEIR LIVES LIKE A NAGGING WIFE BUT FAIL TO MAKE AN IMPACT IN THEIR OWN SMALL WAY.

IT TAKES ALL IF US TO MAKE AFRICA THE HEAVEN WE WISH IT TO BE,
IF ONLY WE GET OFF OUR BLACK BUTS AND WORK IT OUT TILL WE SEE SUCCESS SMILING AT US BECAUSE WE DESERVED IT.

#THMpoetry © 2017

I CHOOSE YOU

Posted: April 12, 2017 in VILLAGE ROMANCE
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Among the lot ,
In the midst of shinny stars,
Within the landscape of roses ,
At the shores of maidens,
I see none that makes my heart smile.
At the parade of dancing beauties
Displaying steps of twists and turns
I see none that can make me ,me.

At the bank of the smooth waters
That flows to give life to generations
I see none that makes me wish to stare back.
In the night of story telling
I see no smile that glows brighter than flame.
That which effortlessly dances on the lips,
Causing my eye to water with love.

On the path to the market I hear no voice
That causes me to turn around
Nor follow just to listen to its music
I seen no such person
In my world of search
With one thing to fetch
No matter how far I stretch
I see no such person.

Under the great baobab tree you sit
As birds sing for you your morning hymn
Away from prying eyes you stay
Enjoying the warmth of your own presence
She that is seen not by all
For her only friend is nature.
With her she writes her heart out.
It is you I choose.

Surprised as you may be,
I see you shine among the many.
Troublesome as I may seem,
Annoying as I may sound,
Your smile is the only one I crave for
Crazy as I may act,
It is your love that I choose.

#THMpoetry © 2017

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Glory be to GOD for having 3 nominations.
Hoping to win them all.
Step by step we going higher
All support is required
Step by step we shall make it.

#THMpoetry © 2017

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Glory be to GOD for having 3 nominations.
Hoping hope to win them all.
Step by step we going higher

#THMpoetry © 2017

I’m only a passerby
Sent by success to say hi
That with little push you can go high.
Life is only but an exam
Just believe and be calm

#THMpoetry © 2017

Take time to enrich yourself,
Have command over yourself
To produce a favorable solution.

#THMpoetry © 2017