Posts Tagged ‘Conversations’


OBAMA

A man who calls his kinsmen to a feast does not do so to redeem them from starving.

They all have food in their own houses.

We also gather together in the moonlight village ground,

not because of the moon’s boon

but we come together because it is good for Kinsmen or people

to do so. (Chinua Achebe, in his book, ‘Things Fall Apart)

 

Therefore,

It is amazing how cultures differ

Religions transform

Marriages cut borders

And human societies flourish

 

When I hear a Chinese speak

that is soothing enough to be a song

When I see a Japanese dance in mid-morning gong

that is rich food to satisfy an empty soul

from the grips of depression.

 

When I sit on a dinner table with a Panamanian

that is brewed taste of reggae love

and an echoing worship,

mildly singing “Love each other”

 

When I chance into Russians and Germans

there’s fine Vodka and Beer  away

summoning my instinct to keep coming back home for more

 

When I am home with an Italian couple

that is pure art of a rising sun

and an emotional spot for unmarried poems

who are yet  to taste the stanzas and rhymes of beauty

 

When fine art of lazing smoke

entraps my inquisitive nostrils

that’s a Cuban Cigar of magical wonder

attracting as the wealthy queen of Arabia

in dancing yonder

 

When you spot Elephants on the Chobe River

and the Makgadigadi pans experience rains

that’s a Batswana painting and sight as a Mona Lisa

 

When a Zambian is served an Nshima with an Ndiwo

that’s an expression of tales of hospitality and folklore

brewed from an African pot

 

 

When I stare in awe to the Samba by a Brazilian

that’s times way of healing in the most unbearable of pain

 

When you greet a Ni-Van and she responds unusually gently,

ask her about the meal she prepared for dinner

and if it is rice, then, there is famine in her home.

 

Wear the traditional canon of an Ethiopian shawl

and that’s a taste of elegance before the altar of prayer.

 

When I see a Kenyan on board a Delta Airlines flight

In snooze mode to America

that is another Obama in the making

 

When you fall in love with a Ghanaian

that’s immortality in the face of death

and a cure of depressed hunger

 

Therefore,

We came together for a grand feast

which exposed us to different traits and characters

So,

Let’s recognize ourselves as a people

dealing with people

even in the scarcest of cultures and religion

as we might not know where another Obama could be born.

 

      Love Each Other.

                                           Keep on loving each other

                                                                                  As I could be the next Obama

                                                                                        ‘coz I felt in love with a foreigner of another land.

 

Copyright © 25-06-2017

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah 

aka Poet et Cetera

Written in Beijing-China during a 3 week seminar on Climate Change where I fell in love with the amazing people from different cultures and backgrounds.  Credit to Igwee of Kenya and all participants to the conference. It was nice seeing you all.

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WHEN THE SUN RISE
to Omilos Eksipiriteton, Servers’ Society, Greece

You will find joy
In the mid morning glory
When the path of light
Un-blind its eyes
Of the darkened gory

You will find rhythm
In the holy sieve
When the weary heart
Finds the anthem of peace
Beyond the oceans of stars

You will find cleansing
In the purest sea
When the dreadful stink
Charm thy godly body
Of past,
To healing of dance,
in the whispers now

You will find love
In the comfort bosom
When the silent air
Bore delight
In the groovy night
And magical spice
Of rainbow colors

You will find hope
Someday;
Somehow,
You will find rest
In the brightest sun.

Copyright © 14-02-2018
Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah
aka Poet et Cetera


A moment as beautiful as a young Rose

or a yawning sunflower

that cannot quiet its petals from drawing butterflies

awoke a funny sunlight to the delight of our eyes

 

a time after time of chiming winds

with tickling sensation of love

was like a brewed kiss from an honest answer

 

a startled picturesque

as sight of morning Zebras

birthed a paradise of praise like an exciting salmagundi

in a magical recipe of thoughtfulness

 

a distant stare of an ageing couple

as smell of fresh milk and chocolates

dumped my thundering peals into a dawn of newness

 

a February of cupids it was

a memory along a smiley rivulets we sat

a sight of clopping horses and disciples of stars

is my wish for you and I, against the world.

 

 

Copyright © 14-02-2018

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

aka Poet et Cetera


thQMLBZX2E

(First Published by Tuck Magazine, February 2015 in Canada)

 

When the calabash of a drunkard breaks

He shall not rescind the fallen of his drink

to the gathering of itchy ants

whose thirsty throats

cannot beget the savor of its mints

 

The drunk,

of his addiction would continually make merry

from the pot that brewed the wine

and contaminate infant tongues

and crawling minds

with the belief in death

and notion of forgetfulness

 

He would say, “let us not work

for tomorrow is for the “fool” who believes in it”.

 

Thus,

satisfaction and addiction

is as contagious as an adulterous lust.

 Copyright © 14-02-15

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

aka Poet et cetera 


For whence my DNA is prosperity

and birthright a yoke of honey

who shouldest curse thy pot

 

For whence my wealth is dew

and sinew pillar is renewed

who shouldest cast the dark shadow

 

For whence my life is green

and on this meadow

the god of oblivion is no ally

who shouldest fight the rains

 

For whence I am weak and bleak

and lost in the soul of time,

who shouldest proclaim my sleep in the sight of God

 

This guest had no tastier snuff

to offer me hand to reach the high shelf

and as a humble sheep,

with no guided light of the shepherd,

I have learnt to bleat my own bleat

and chew the cud in my own discrete pent

 

So ask not of me to fetch you hope

from the gourd of which your hands could not enter.

 

I shall rise in your time

I shall rise in your reign

For the winds to echo my name in distant glories

 

Copyright © 11-06-2013

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah

 


Sikaman has always been my name
it was my birthright
which was passed on from my ancestors
to my grandfather, who sowed the seeds
on fertile lands and allowed not the rains pour
to germinate that which had been planted
Sikaman…. Agya Sikaman, had a gourd
filled to the brim with water
and would sprinkle them on these pallets
so the gods would match his hard work
with fruits and wealth of his labor

Sikaman has always been my name
My grandfather planted this yoke
and before his death,
fastened its walking stick
into a distant galaxy
and opined to my father, “bear Sikaman as a tattoo
of our household name, for there lies thy glory”.
Sikaman… Agya Sikaman, I recalled had a calabash
always full of fermented palm sap
and would look to the skies
as his Kente wax, scares the eyes of the cursed
by pouring libation to the gods of our ancestors

Sikaman has always been my name
the wit of my father
and tensile strength
which bears jewelries of gold and cola
for thy sons and daughters behold says,
“little by little fills up the bowl”.

Copyright © 15-07-2013
Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah
Ghana