Posts Tagged ‘Mirror’


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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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


I am guilty

‘Coz within my 20 and so journey of life’s Math’s

I’ve impregnated about 50,001 women

Whom I never sung the choruses

To spike their bodily temple

Yeah…I am guilty

For aborting fifty thousand and one image of a soul

Within my naked thought,

cankerworm mind and idolized eyes

that exposed my emotions to the curvy contours

and hips don’t lie of their wavering “bakuna”

I say I am guilty

Though no god of a man can judge me

Coz I speak in a language of riddles and proverbs

Of which men of the Babel tower

Cannot interpret to the senses of the ordinary mind

 

I am guilty

Guilty of masturbating behind the corridors

of a crippled age

where sin draws clouds

of masked shadows on my crooked path

Yeah.. I’ve betrayed God

by being a Judas of this earth

and a Jezebel who couldn’t condomize her libido

‘coz my eyes were the sight to their smeared breast at day

and “otofista” exposee of their turner beads

My eyes have sinned

to a sight my body neither fondled

nor my magnetic hands caressed

Yeah… my thought have led me prodigal

in an arrayed erotic foreplay, in my mind…

in my mind…  

in my mind

as I think of you.

 

Copyright © 15-09-2013

Michael Kwaku Kesse Somuah