Tag: poet
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bending bars
the opening line of a new poem comes to mindI write it down impressiveinspiringout of the blue I think of what should followseveral attempts, no progressI doze off, wake up, continueputting many activities on hold still no progresscan’t think of a sensible continuation frustration days pass byI sit, rise, pace, take a break, return, take…
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gods of justice in their element
chunks of gingerthat have missed the teeth of a blenderhave found their way into Mom’s soupDisguised among the chunks of smoked fish and salted meatawaiting an unsuspecting victimwhose feet are tiptoeing towards the kitchengently opening the doorlistening hard for mom’s voice which is busy in the living room shouting on some sordid character on TVTV…
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We are one family
Like two tough bulls, two men are locked in a game of draughts under the shade of a baobab tree, surrounded by a cocktail of nationalities, so typical of crowds in West Africa’s Ivory Coast. Friends and passersby watch in suspense against a backdrop of Zouglou music playing from a bar nearby. The game ends.…
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dry your tears
He’s asked that she dry her tears and smilebut how can she, in the midst of so much pain?while they talk, she’s distractedby the singing of her patientsa favorite song of her lover gone on a long journeywhose many letters have trickled to a fewthe song comes to herlike some lonesome puppy recognizing its master…
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The letter to Daouda
she thought she carried good newsshe’s been sent to deliver a lettershe, an illiteratethere in his office she stoodwaiting for him to read and replythe wilting joy on the face of the readertells her something isn’t rightslowly, the initial smile on his face fermentsinto a sad, bitter face, polluting her initial joy tooshe waits as…
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Fireworks and chilly winds
fireworks, chilly windsI lay in bed, lying on my sidefacing the open windowa moonless sky lit with sparkling starsChristmas is a month awaybut I can smell it miles awaythinkingof all the thingsand peoplethat have come and gonethinkingof my life nowand what is to come ………………………………………………….. Email:Benjaminnambu1@gmail.com WhatsApp:+233 541 824 839
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songs of a folktale
all eyes on the new moonas we sang, clapped and dancedsongs of a folktale about the moon and the sunmotherswho decided to slaughter their children for a meal during a famineThe sun was the first, sacrificing her children but the wise moon loved her children and wouldn’t when it was her turnThe furious sun now…
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sticks in my ears
a wet rug was placed over the hot lantern chimneywhen the rug had soaked up enough heat and could no longer breatheit was placed over the fresh wound on my legI squirmed, screamed and tossed in painThick arms gripped me, so that the wet, hot rug could engage in a long lick of my woundmother’s…
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Sick with the quagmire
you’ll sing better songsthis thirst for changewill make you drink ideas till you’re drunknobody reaches the heights you’re aiming for sobermany your kind have been hereit’s the same ancient pathdifferent faces, same heart ……………………………………………………. Email:Benjaminnambu1@gmail.com WhatsApp: +233 541 824 839
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wake every beast
honed every skilltried every trickcombed every streetwoke every beastcrossed every seatossed every diceate every lielicked every woundpaid every duesplayed every tunedealt every cardtook every chanceknocked every doorfought every dogticked every box yet for all my effortsa harvest of winds but I keep pressing onunrelentingly https://wp.me/paf3ao-m3z
Diary of a Wanderer 