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Showing posts from April, 2015

Nufiala

And these are the works that forged us:

- A Death Foretold,
- Songs of Sorrow,
- Grains and Tears
- Night of My Blood,
- This Earth, My Brother,
- Rediscovery…


Words that hammered our thoughts
Into tempered steel
that broke conventional wisdom
Building in their place irreverent totems
And you were the anvil.

Nufiala;
It was in temple minds like yours
We sat, threading words into prayer beads
With which we contemplated the universe
And what was in it there of
Living in readiness for the coming of enlightenment.

When we have rebuilt the temples of Enlightenment
In the manner in which you taught us,
and in them found remembrance,
Then and only then
Would we have found the true meaning of Rediscovery

*****April 30, 2015*****

*Nufiala: Ewe word for "Teacher"

-A Death Foretold,
-Songs of Sorrow,
-Grains and Tears
-Night of My Blood,
-This Earth, My Brother,
-Rediscovery…

These are poems by Kofi Awoonor





Awoonor: Lost in Limbo

The Earth has come full circle, Since you were riddled.
You can come back home now,
Traveler spirit running round the Kenya.
Since Death in his pettiness
Whispered your name far from home,
Your spirit is restless far from your grave,
Lost, in a land where they speak some other tongue.
But you are the Master Weaver with a Silver Tongue ,
Spin words so silky they mellow Death’s heart,
Then climb from your faraway Limbo,
And came back home to us,
You Soulful Spirit, escape Kenya to the Afadjato.
*****April 22, 2015*****

Crimson Rainbow

They are lynching people in South Africa, Long after apartheid,
Not so long after Tata died,
Nightmares still sprout on streets,
Fertilized by the blood of fleeing immigrants
And we are force fed its bitter fruits.
They are lynching people in South Africa,
Called the rainbow nation,
Light retracts through the tears
Of a brother's helpless lamentation
As machetes drum his back,
In cringe worthy rhythms,
crimson, the only color in his rainbow.
They are lynching people in South Africa,
Feeding hungry newspapers with stories for days,
Till it all gets old,
And they crave for more stories
Of us killing each other for some other petty reason.
They are lynching people in South Africa,
And Goodwill sits in majesty,
While ill will greets another stranger,
But his majesty will not be blamed.
They are lynching people in South Africa
And all I can think is
"Xenophobia is such a nice word for this madness"
*****April 17, 2015*****







Morning People

Morning has broken,
Again,
And we,
Trudging through its monotony
Struggle to make sense of life
Till it’s night
When we brim with energy
But must sleep.
Tomorrow, Repeat…
*****April 16, 2015*****