Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

Bottoms Up!

Enlarge poem

To the children we call our future
Who have no shoes to put on their feet
Who have barely any food to eat
Who believe in some unreal hope
But still dare to dream
Wild and free

Cheers!
To the folks who stand by the wayside
Who search high and low for a world unknown
Will they ever find?
A place called ‘home’
Probably, probably not
We wait
Chin-Chin!
A lesson well learned
You took everything and yet left so much
You left us hanging
Do we regret the departure?
We still take a long walk of shame
Until we finally snap

Wassail!
All who made the attempt
To restore some peace to chaos
To restore hope to despair
You got caught in the web
Of toils and sacrifice to defy
All odds of a better life for everyone
Now a toast!
To all who fought
To those who are still fighting
To those who merry in the war
To those who take advantage of the frail
To the injustice done to us
To the justice we still fight for
Bottoms Up!

Ama Nuamah

Featured Poem:

Hallowed Grounds

Enlarge poem

My eyes have known of some existence
I sink in the deep abyss of buried memories
For a time, a time of doleful longing
How divine the chorus they sang
How comely the master’s flair
The cocks crowed in artless delight
To break the chaotic silence of dawn
Where the birds glided through the air
The sun shone brightly with a smile
And the moon came out just in time
To catch a glimpse of heaven’s happy dance
The earth joined in seamless glee

The old men sat under dreary oaks
They puffed the smoke from the pipes
They battled in a game of draughts
They laughed with barely any cares
In their groggy woozy gait
They danced to the tunes
To the rhythm to the beat
From the bottoms of mere tree trunks
The folk music was sheer bliss to the ear
And men thought weak would plough
The lands whose pride was the child himself

The children frolicked, wild and free
With only bare feet to spare
Tribute to the early days
With nothing more than little scares
A wild goose chase at noon
With nothing more than feeble hands
To capture and set free
Little butterflies and a smacked bee
They took flawless pleasure
In the face of pelting waters
Dancing all along
To same old music while beating the trunks

Women sought after their men
Daring frantically to matter
But still waiting their opportune turn
No attention to trifling flatter
When the old turned to the young
At the still running streams
Deep redes to their sorry heads lay
The old opine sound words of caution
While they bend their weak backs
And bear the basins on their heads
Within the basin she watches
The mirrored self of she, in yet another

Suddenly all light is bedimmed
Not a single flash can be seen
The old men have returned too early
To sullen graves in defeat
From the fight to thrive well against
The power of a strange forbiddance
The children have all fled
The fathers seek their pleasured youth
The fate in so much unrest
There is a life yet unknown
Suckling youth can no more be found
Mother, father hold on in reverend fear

Listen to the echoes from afar
Nature’s dirge of her dearly bereaved
The mother is denied her pride
The womb is shorn of her worth
The children of her pleasured youth
Can barely open their veiled eyes to see
The mother so called crouched on her knees
Desperate in her lowly state
She is yearning with the age old plea
He had wooed her with so much of purity
Promised he would never defile
Whatever she was, he would preserve

And now there she lies
Vile and dejected
Her eyes once brightly shining
Can no more break the murky dawn
A life once treasured
She swears to deathly tolls
To avenge her forgotten labor
Now the children of men
Can only bring the bearer of fresh suckling bosom
A mickle of letters telling of poor bemoaned regret
She is left behind
Her own unsullied self

So now all and sundry born of a womb
Struggle to severe the cord
That binds us to a treasured past
Somehow we forgot steady steps we trod
In the way, in the shadow of a selfless being
Whose tones we bear well on our coat
And whose love we have coldly betrayed
Who would have thought a lover
Would weep herself to sleep
And wake to see her lover’s eyes
Filled with nothing but sore disdain
Her heart is held still, in profound silence

And so now purity has borne
Children to our dismay
With much of scorn from birth abased
They trample the belly that carried
They set the heart to bleed
And soothe everything but pain
They seek fearlessly answers
Questions to which she has not an idea
A mother wails for a rebirth, or rather
She wails for the death of a beloved
Who yet lives in faceless solitude
On what was to be hallowed grounds

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (3)
  • Reflection (4)
  • Captivation (3)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (2)
  • Vigour (3)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (3)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (4)

Comments

Your email address will not be published.

Biography

Ama is a young lady born and based in Accra, Ghana. She loves other creative disciplines but writing is a deeply-rooted passion of hers. Writing is her safe haven, writing is her lifeline.

Ama Nuamah

Biography

Ama is a young lady born and based in Accra, Ghana. She loves other creative disciplines but writing is a deeply-rooted passion of hers. Writing is her safe haven, writing is her lifeline.

Bottoms Up!

Enlarge poem

To the children we call our future
Who have no shoes to put on their feet
Who have barely any food to eat
Who believe in some unreal hope
But still dare to dream
Wild and free

Cheers!
To the folks who stand by the wayside
Who search high and low for a world unknown
Will they ever find?
A place called ‘home’
Probably, probably not
We wait
Chin-Chin!
A lesson well learned
You took everything and yet left so much
You left us hanging
Do we regret the departure?
We still take a long walk of shame
Until we finally snap

Wassail!
All who made the attempt
To restore some peace to chaos
To restore hope to despair
You got caught in the web
Of toils and sacrifice to defy
All odds of a better life for everyone
Now a toast!
To all who fought
To those who are still fighting
To those who merry in the war
To those who take advantage of the frail
To the injustice done to us
To the justice we still fight for
Bottoms Up!

Featured Poem:

Hallowed Grounds

Enlarge poem

My eyes have known of some existence
I sink in the deep abyss of buried memories
For a time, a time of doleful longing
How divine the chorus they sang
How comely the master’s flair
The cocks crowed in artless delight
To break the chaotic silence of dawn
Where the birds glided through the air
The sun shone brightly with a smile
And the moon came out just in time
To catch a glimpse of heaven’s happy dance
The earth joined in seamless glee

The old men sat under dreary oaks
They puffed the smoke from the pipes
They battled in a game of draughts
They laughed with barely any cares
In their groggy woozy gait
They danced to the tunes
To the rhythm to the beat
From the bottoms of mere tree trunks
The folk music was sheer bliss to the ear
And men thought weak would plough
The lands whose pride was the child himself

The children frolicked, wild and free
With only bare feet to spare
Tribute to the early days
With nothing more than little scares
A wild goose chase at noon
With nothing more than feeble hands
To capture and set free
Little butterflies and a smacked bee
They took flawless pleasure
In the face of pelting waters
Dancing all along
To same old music while beating the trunks

Women sought after their men
Daring frantically to matter
But still waiting their opportune turn
No attention to trifling flatter
When the old turned to the young
At the still running streams
Deep redes to their sorry heads lay
The old opine sound words of caution
While they bend their weak backs
And bear the basins on their heads
Within the basin she watches
The mirrored self of she, in yet another

Suddenly all light is bedimmed
Not a single flash can be seen
The old men have returned too early
To sullen graves in defeat
From the fight to thrive well against
The power of a strange forbiddance
The children have all fled
The fathers seek their pleasured youth
The fate in so much unrest
There is a life yet unknown
Suckling youth can no more be found
Mother, father hold on in reverend fear

Listen to the echoes from afar
Nature’s dirge of her dearly bereaved
The mother is denied her pride
The womb is shorn of her worth
The children of her pleasured youth
Can barely open their veiled eyes to see
The mother so called crouched on her knees
Desperate in her lowly state
She is yearning with the age old plea
He had wooed her with so much of purity
Promised he would never defile
Whatever she was, he would preserve

And now there she lies
Vile and dejected
Her eyes once brightly shining
Can no more break the murky dawn
A life once treasured
She swears to deathly tolls
To avenge her forgotten labor
Now the children of men
Can only bring the bearer of fresh suckling bosom
A mickle of letters telling of poor bemoaned regret
She is left behind
Her own unsullied self

So now all and sundry born of a womb
Struggle to severe the cord
That binds us to a treasured past
Somehow we forgot steady steps we trod
In the way, in the shadow of a selfless being
Whose tones we bear well on our coat
And whose love we have coldly betrayed
Who would have thought a lover
Would weep herself to sleep
And wake to see her lover’s eyes
Filled with nothing but sore disdain
Her heart is held still, in profound silence

And so now purity has borne
Children to our dismay
With much of scorn from birth abased
They trample the belly that carried
They set the heart to bleed
And soothe everything but pain
They seek fearlessly answers
Questions to which she has not an idea
A mother wails for a rebirth, or rather
She wails for the death of a beloved
Who yet lives in faceless solitude
On what was to be hallowed grounds

How does this featured poem make you feel?

  • Amazement (0)
  • Pride (0)
  • Optimism (0)
  • Anger (1)
  • Delight (0)
  • Inspiration (3)
  • Reflection (4)
  • Captivation (3)
  • Peace (0)
  • Amusement (0)
  • Sorrow (2)
  • Vigour (3)
  • Hope (0)
  • Sadness (3)
  • Fear (0)
  • Jubilation (4)

Bottoms Up!

Enlarge poem

To the children we call our future
Who have no shoes to put on their feet
Who have barely any food to eat
Who believe in some unreal hope
But still dare to dream
Wild and free

Cheers!
To the folks who stand by the wayside
Who search high and low for a world unknown
Will they ever find?
A place called ‘home’
Probably, probably not
We wait
Chin-Chin!
A lesson well learned
You took everything and yet left so much
You left us hanging
Do we regret the departure?
We still take a long walk of shame
Until we finally snap

Wassail!
All who made the attempt
To restore some peace to chaos
To restore hope to despair
You got caught in the web
Of toils and sacrifice to defy
All odds of a better life for everyone
Now a toast!
To all who fought
To those who are still fighting
To those who merry in the war
To those who take advantage of the frail
To the injustice done to us
To the justice we still fight for
Bottoms Up!

Comments

Your email address will not be published.