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Hey

Posted: April 16, 2018 in Uncategorized

We were like them that sang
the rhyme of Shakespeare’s love

We were like them that believed
in taking a bath at the Guilin scenery
after we had run between the miles

We were like them that were imperfect
and vowed to keep being strong
by not giving up on each other

We were like them that sealed their love
with a timeless kiss
that attracted brewers to fetch a sight
to satisfy their lustful thirst.

And,
When I shot a Rose beneath your feet
even the eye of the monstrous feast
and lame of love but pain
hailed me as an Archer, a Sagittarius, an Eros.

But at the end,
I could have been your best
if not for the fact that,
You were just a good lover.

And yea!
The night of your departure
I spoke mildly, softer as the balm that tan
savannah pinning skins
But at the end,
I could have been your best
if not for the fact that,
You were just a kind lover.

 

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah
#Cautious Da Poet#
#Poet et cetera#

SONG OF MICHAEL

Posted: March 11, 2018 in Uncategorized

(to Ama Kesse Amponsah)

I was glad when they said unto me

For thy love is better than wine

Thy neck sparkling with chains of precious stones

Your bosom bountiful beautiful, there I will dine

Silky is your voice, black is your make like the berries in Eden

Your posture inspires

And smile calm down flowing waters

Leave me under your feet for I will die a just death

Coz ages past, present now and all worries gone

Touch me my love, O ye beauty for we are bonded sound

Smell of yours I hear from afar like falling grapes in spring

Come on my love, thy teeth like shining star which never dims

Thy lips wonderfully made to reflect its red all day

In faith, you have won my heart with all that’s composed in you

Under thy tongue are sweet honey and thy kiss quenches thirst and satisfy every hunger

My worries soothe at the mentioning of your name, dove

And my inner self arouses when I hear a knock at the door, move

My God sent, the beauty in autumn and the white in winter

Eyes glowing in darkness and falling like early showers blessed

Cheeks deserving with a God made dimple

Plenty is your hair like the sheep thou walked at night

With a head round and fine as gold to fit each crown

Sweet is my love, my heart seizes for a minute at her sight

Necks crinkling, legs shaking as if an Angel has descended from heaven

O love, accept my praise and overlook all flattering

‘Coz your mouth defines love Godly in pure as snow

Ye daughter of marbles and born of a virgin

Pamper me gorgeous lady of the night

And bury me in your belly of love ‘coz sweet is you ’till death do us part.

Hey Ama,

stop staring at me with your cut diamond eyes

and lay the bed to burn our longing lust.

 

Copyright Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

aka Poet et Cetera


(First Published in the Enchanting verses literary Journal in India and Poetryspace UK)

Imagine this good life;

The bursting sunset,

As a window on the world

Setting at the edge of the desert, 

The roaring oceans with tales of mermaids,

As warmth to our coldish strife 

Uplifting, washing the shore.

 

The cushioning clouds, 

Shelter us, condense showering drops of dew,

To dampen our nightmares 

The angelic array of stars;

Zodiacs and light in the night sky,

Ease our blindfold scare 

And ride over our hopeless ambitions

 

 

The unseen magnitude of planets, 

Allows mysteries to be unraveled

To house the fate and character of man

So we understand seasonal trends of ice and harvest

The jungles deep but serene and green,

Barks of trees as herbs, and dancing monkeys

Humming bees flying, peaceful doves,

Trumpeting elephants and chirping birds,

Create nature’s delight, of

How wonderful Earth would have been

Without conflicts that wound.

 

 

Copyright ©

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

aka Poet et Cetera


(to Director of Omilos Eksipiretiton, Mrs. Klairi Lykiardopoulou (1931-2015))

 

We shall live

We shall die

And should either happen

Love was greater.

 

Therefore,

Someone has to be bold

to stand the rains and defeat the ruins.

Someone has to be King

to decide good over evil

and plant Kingdoms in civilized patterns.

Someone has to be a woman in fur a coat

to obey the weakness in me,

so non shall woo my emotions into distress.

Someone should not die in war

for the coward to hymn its muse

as brevity of warriors,

are not meant for the worms.

Someone must find love in religion

to keep the Magistrates pidgin

and to tell of the epiphany.

Someone should judge beauty

in a pageant of monkeys and baboons

to laugh yourself away.

Someone should be a villain

for peace to prevail

so as to bail our tribes from the boots of traitors.

Someone should be for family

to stand for the trials

when the fist of the team are broken

and the mystery knots seem too difficult to untie.

Someone should be remembered

on what he lived for

as stars cannot shine without darkness.

 

Someone, and just all of us

Should hail seasons that age

but draws midnight memories

of either laughter or mourning

 

We shall live

We shall die

And should both happen

Love was greater.

 

Copyright © 2015-05-14

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

(World Empowered Youth Poet 2013/National Youth Achiever in Literary Arts/Kostis Palamas Poetry Prize Winner/World Peace and Cultural Ambassadorial Award Winner/Director-World Poetry Canada and Reading Series/Member-Omilos Eksipiretiton/Author of This Sweet Name Like Magic Has Made Me)


NIGHT WORKER IMAGE

This is how my story began

The symptom of my bitterness

The devourer of my firm spirit

The undue stain of my virtue right

That makes me cry myself to sleep.

 

It was a June morning

Moms kiss on my forehead was poor

Her skin looked dry in a wrapped perfumed cloth

Though “shea-butter” cream was an ally in our straw hut

She looked unbridled by the frowned wrinkles

And had worn her anniversary gown and a wig hat

To that unusual bright and sunny hour

She looked unperturbed by the fact that, the compound had not been swept

Nor the barrels filled with the first tears of the stream

It was such a strange dream

And an infant day to have weird thoughts

On that lazy mat of mine

 

We only heard Papa’s name was “Forster”

He had divorced Mama during our early teens

I was the eldest amongst five children

A lady with vibrating limbs and skinny piercing physique

purposed to stand as a man for my siblings

Papa’s shadow was the scarcity sight in our home

As we grew younger and older

dearer and poorer without a fatherly clove of love.

 

 

This is how my story began

The symptom of my bitterness

The devourer of my firm spirit

The undue stain of my virtue right

That makes me cry myself to sleep

 

In my awakening by the cockerel’s crow

After succumbing to that bitter dream

about my mother,

I walked to Mama’s door

And knocked to hear her deep responsive voice

But silence had eluded her.

 

“A funeral under a leaking roof”.

The symptom of my bitterness

The devourer of my firm spirit

The undue stain of my virtue right

That makes me cry myself to sleep

 

We cried and tore pieces of our clothes

And painted a mood of bitterness

to deaths’ venom bite

I then understood the prophetic passage

I encountered in that mid-night dosage of sleep

And I wept and we slept in miscarriage,

As I had been welcomed to the hill

Where many had died on

 

This is where my story began

The decisive point of strength or failure.

 

Copyright © 22-02-2017

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

aka Poet et Cetera