Thursday, May 30, 2013

My bad, oh! My bed by Boanerge Masoka



 
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The water was boiling
And my mind was racing,
With bitterness, sadness, resilience
And the thoughts of the times shared.
A thin line in between
Me and her
Them and us
Love and sacrifice
And the stupidity that occupied my mind,
As I carried the bucket of hot water to the very room it first begun.

It was a surprise
And yes it skipped a beat
Torn and tarnished
Its existence vanished
To the silence in between
Me and her
Them and us
Love and sacrifice
I blacked out, it was too much to handle.
A rhythm of sadness I thought, as my eyes closed.

Monday, May 27, 2013

A Place We Can Call Home by Kwabena Agyare




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If only
these thirsty soldiers would stop sipping our blood from the calabash of chaos
If only
these resounding voices of those guns would fade
Then we can call this place home

And continue to gather around those breasts that nursed us
And not play the sojourner's flute
like a Fulani in the Sahara
And not allow innocent blood to curse this land
We can call this place home

We can feel the breeze again
like our childhood never walked away
And gaze endlessly at the smiling sun
This is perfect a place
A place we can call home

So our children can be proud
and dust themselves
whilst building their castles
in the sand
A place we can call home

That our wives
will love in peace
And I dream
of a good place
A place we can call home

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