Spotlighting Pan-African Poetry

Biography

It Just Has to Come Naturally

Enlarge poem

It just has to come naturally, NOT FORCED
Through the teeth of the speaker
A word
A phrase
That’s all you need to start it
And then let it flow, unrushed

It just has to come naturally, not strained
Through the lips of the creator
A flash of inspiration
A sensation
And then you can begin to write it
And let the spirit pour, untouched

It just has to come naturally, not jammed
Through the brain of the inventor
A dream
A vision
To get it moving
And the words must spill out, unstopped

It just has to come naturally, not premeditated
Or it will be murdered
The birth must be unplanned
The child’s origins unknown
Then it will be what you want it to be
And the thoughts must spew forth, unhindered

It just has to come naturally, not made, not fashioned, not designed
By the yearnings of the author
A song
A trauma
To spark it
And it will come when it will come

It just has to come naturally, not fabricated, not synthesized
From the hands of the innovator
A surreal event
A memory
Will set the wheels in motion
And the soul must carry the body, unaided

It just has to come naturally, not shoved
Through the cracks of the pavement
An out of body experience
An epiphany
Then the creativity will return
And the voices will slide across the chanter’s chords, pure

It just has to come naturally, not aborted
Prematurely, nor added on to
An Awakening!
or deadening
To get the engine heated
And the shapes will appear, innocent

It just has to come naturally, not pushed
Through the fingers of the writer
A recollection
A connection
Then the mind will move the pen
And then it must be, let it be, unaltered

Kafui Adjaye-Gbewonyo

Featured Poem:

My Legs Are in Mourning

Enlarge poem

My legs are in mourning today, and almost all week.
Adorned with dark colors inside and out
And the agony they endure at the initial shock, until the pain gradually fades away.
The stress is felt at their head and center—a dull and pulsating sensation that comes and goes, as if something is being stripped from the inside,
As if something is being squeezed from the inside.
And everything about me changes; all is affected by this death of life, of freedom,
Until comfort returns.

Their sleep shall be restless tonight and for some nights to come,
Until the crying lessens and the tears begin to dry.
But the tears they cry are red, and they come from a single eye.
Yes, they bleed for those whom they mourn; they don’t just cry; they weep.
This is no superficial mourning.
And pleasure shall be forsaken and denied
For enjoyment cannot be had while mourning,
And their state will be recognized by all
For the colors of mourning are black and red and dark blue,
Colors that can hide the tears if they decide to show.
But soon, the tears will flow clear and few.
And my legs, they will act with care and restraint, for this is no time to be normal.
They cannot be normal no matter how hard they try, or how much they pretend, or how deep they hide.
A force beyond them has gripped them.
Somberness has taken over.

Sometimes they double up in pain, but that state is soon over.
And sometimes they cannot keep still out of fear of the unspeakable
Until the mourning period is done, and they can don their light colors.
Until the mourning period is over, and they can do what they used to do.
It has happened before (not too long ago)
And it will happen again (soon)
My legs are in mourning today, and almost all week.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

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

Comments

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Biography

Kafui Adjaye-Gbewonyo is a Ghanaian-American, currently based in Boston, Massachusetts. She has enjoyed writing poetry since childhood. Her poetic work has appeared in California State University, Bakersfield’s literary journal, Orpheus. She was also recognized by the Live Poets Society of New Jersey as an American High School Poets Regional Winner in 2002 and was one of the recipients of the Edward Eager Memorial Fund Prize for Poetry at Harvard University in 2007.

Kafui is currently pursuing a Doctor of Science degree in social and behavioral sciences at Harvard Chan School of Public Health. Her other interests include music and issues related to development, globalization, Ghana, and Africa in general.

Kafui Adjaye-Gbewonyo

Biography

Kafui Adjaye-Gbewonyo is a Ghanaian-American, currently based in Boston, Massachusetts. She has enjoyed writing poetry since childhood. Her poetic work has appeared in California State University, Bakersfield’s literary journal, Orpheus. She was also recognized by the Live Poets Society of New Jersey as an American High School Poets Regional Winner in 2002 and was one of the recipients of the Edward Eager Memorial Fund Prize for Poetry at Harvard University in 2007.

Kafui is currently pursuing a Doctor of Science degree in social and behavioral sciences at Harvard Chan School of Public Health. Her other interests include music and issues related to development, globalization, Ghana, and Africa in general.

It Just Has to Come Naturally

Enlarge poem

It just has to come naturally, NOT FORCED
Through the teeth of the speaker
A word
A phrase
That’s all you need to start it
And then let it flow, unrushed

It just has to come naturally, not strained
Through the lips of the creator
A flash of inspiration
A sensation
And then you can begin to write it
And let the spirit pour, untouched

It just has to come naturally, not jammed
Through the brain of the inventor
A dream
A vision
To get it moving
And the words must spill out, unstopped

It just has to come naturally, not premeditated
Or it will be murdered
The birth must be unplanned
The child’s origins unknown
Then it will be what you want it to be
And the thoughts must spew forth, unhindered

It just has to come naturally, not made, not fashioned, not designed
By the yearnings of the author
A song
A trauma
To spark it
And it will come when it will come

It just has to come naturally, not fabricated, not synthesized
From the hands of the innovator
A surreal event
A memory
Will set the wheels in motion
And the soul must carry the body, unaided

It just has to come naturally, not shoved
Through the cracks of the pavement
An out of body experience
An epiphany
Then the creativity will return
And the voices will slide across the chanter’s chords, pure

It just has to come naturally, not aborted
Prematurely, nor added on to
An Awakening!
or deadening
To get the engine heated
And the shapes will appear, innocent

It just has to come naturally, not pushed
Through the fingers of the writer
A recollection
A connection
Then the mind will move the pen
And then it must be, let it be, unaltered

Featured Poem:

My Legs Are in Mourning

Enlarge poem

My legs are in mourning today, and almost all week.
Adorned with dark colors inside and out
And the agony they endure at the initial shock, until the pain gradually fades away.
The stress is felt at their head and center—a dull and pulsating sensation that comes and goes, as if something is being stripped from the inside,
As if something is being squeezed from the inside.
And everything about me changes; all is affected by this death of life, of freedom,
Until comfort returns.

Their sleep shall be restless tonight and for some nights to come,
Until the crying lessens and the tears begin to dry.
But the tears they cry are red, and they come from a single eye.
Yes, they bleed for those whom they mourn; they don’t just cry; they weep.
This is no superficial mourning.
And pleasure shall be forsaken and denied
For enjoyment cannot be had while mourning,
And their state will be recognized by all
For the colors of mourning are black and red and dark blue,
Colors that can hide the tears if they decide to show.
But soon, the tears will flow clear and few.
And my legs, they will act with care and restraint, for this is no time to be normal.
They cannot be normal no matter how hard they try, or how much they pretend, or how deep they hide.
A force beyond them has gripped them.
Somberness has taken over.

Sometimes they double up in pain, but that state is soon over.
And sometimes they cannot keep still out of fear of the unspeakable
Until the mourning period is done, and they can don their light colors.
Until the mourning period is over, and they can do what they used to do.
It has happened before (not too long ago)
And it will happen again (soon)
My legs are in mourning today, and almost all week.

How does this featured poem make you feel?

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

It Just Has to Come Naturally

Enlarge poem

It just has to come naturally, NOT FORCED
Through the teeth of the speaker
A word
A phrase
That’s all you need to start it
And then let it flow, unrushed

It just has to come naturally, not strained
Through the lips of the creator
A flash of inspiration
A sensation
And then you can begin to write it
And let the spirit pour, untouched

It just has to come naturally, not jammed
Through the brain of the inventor
A dream
A vision
To get it moving
And the words must spill out, unstopped

It just has to come naturally, not premeditated
Or it will be murdered
The birth must be unplanned
The child’s origins unknown
Then it will be what you want it to be
And the thoughts must spew forth, unhindered

It just has to come naturally, not made, not fashioned, not designed
By the yearnings of the author
A song
A trauma
To spark it
And it will come when it will come

It just has to come naturally, not fabricated, not synthesized
From the hands of the innovator
A surreal event
A memory
Will set the wheels in motion
And the soul must carry the body, unaided

It just has to come naturally, not shoved
Through the cracks of the pavement
An out of body experience
An epiphany
Then the creativity will return
And the voices will slide across the chanter’s chords, pure

It just has to come naturally, not aborted
Prematurely, nor added on to
An Awakening!
or deadening
To get the engine heated
And the shapes will appear, innocent

It just has to come naturally, not pushed
Through the fingers of the writer
A recollection
A connection
Then the mind will move the pen
And then it must be, let it be, unaltered

Comments

Your email address will not be published.