My bad, oh! My bed by Boanerge Masoka

 

Image -

madamenoire.com

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.

A Place We Can Call Home by Kwabena Agyare

Image -

http://www.clubmadrid.org/sspblog/?p=766

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