Woman Scream 2023 Ghana Poems

 

 

POEMS FROM WOMAN SCREAM ACCRA 2023


MOTHER EARTH WEEPS

Often I marvel at mother earth
And it's unique adventures it has in stock for us
Her beauty is all around us everyday
A beauty for one to see from God's creation
blemishes in beauty and glory
And from tiny seeds she grows a mighty tree
And she feeds every life form including humanity
And yet still, man does not treat mother earth with care.
More wild lives are endangered everyday
And it is a sad thing for one to say
We destroy nature and don't think of our future,
Money is all we seek after all, forgetting about mother earth, the water bodies die, and the land produces no more trees.
We abuse mother earth to serve over our own greed,
Leaving her unrivalled beauty no more to see
With each day we throw trash into the seas to be devoured by our oceans and leaving the the earth choked with its leftovers.
The earth suffers by man's greed and the future of man will die if we do not make a change.
Let nations rise and do the saving bid.       
    
© Edward Kyei – Mensah 2023



AKWABA AKWABA


Akwaba Akwaba
Your weak and feeble knees,
I shelter
Your tired and dreary feet,
I nurture
Take solace in your
children Ama Ghana
They are the ones to etch
your untold stories
in the books that hold your
boundless history
You who liberated yourself
from oppressors
You who took the bulls by
the horn
Drove the Chariots of your
destiny
To where you deemed fit
Ow Ama Ghana, Your story
now is a drama
A satirical drama of what
you perceived to be your
glory
Your Leaders are more
concerned about leading
prosperous lives
Than lead your affairs for
collective progress.
They entangle and dangle in
silly little ridicules to
win masses
They talk the biggest games
but fail to walk the walk
Empty barrels, you'd
presume
Your lands are being
stripped off their glory
Your forests cry tears from
the pillage of it's greens
Your rivers are dirtied and
murky, to find some little
expensive rocks
Little rocks of wealth at
the expense of your
people's livelihood
Your seas being run by
pirates who feed you the
spoils
Of what should be yours,
you slumber Ama Ghana, why!
Your indigenous culture has
been altered so much, your
essence cannot be found
Where is the sense of
oneness, true commitment
and familial love without
blood ties
Hahahaha the world is now a
global village huh!, Let's
be more western yeah!
You failed to moderate this
assimilation, you failed to
preserve your identity
Your only memories are lost
with the ones who wouldn't
be changed by the modern
times
Those who had seen truly
your days of glamour, their
old souls light up at every
mention of the you before
They leave this stage with
their memories of you
untouched, this is your
consolation
You speak and want
empowering like you are
oblivious of what you
possess
Your answers stared you in
the face, you failed to
notice.
Your choices are yours, you
bear responsibility solely
These wounds, you inflicted
by your actions
You tend them to closure by
your actions
Your story is better than
you know, your children are
hidden plot twists
Embedded in the most
intricate and exciting
fashion
Your supposed satirical
drama, is now a story with
far more meaningful labels
Inspiring, full of depth,
thriller, futuristic,
directed and portrayed by
beautiful minds
Creative talents,
passionate and
unadulterated souls,
challenging the fabric of
what seems to be the norm.
Your children are your
story tellers, the future
leaders, the coming
generation
Equipped with with so much
you cannot fathom
They are a force you dare
not confront
This is your empowerment,
Ama
This is your Future


© CHARLOTTE AMA MENSAH 2022
(Aka SHALOMWRITES)



A MOTHER’S TOUCH

In the village compound which was cleanly swept and tidy,
A compound not easily assessable by road
A group of old women sat huddled together as though they were protecting each other,
Sticks and pipes jutted out of their mouths which occasionally moved together in unison.

 A sigh here and a look to the sky there,
 Some sat with their chins in their palms as though they were defeated in life.
Thoughts that went through the minds of many were “what have I done to deserve this life?

This is the time that I should be with my sons and their wives,
With my daughters, and their husbands.
My children should be looking after me now, after all the blood, sweat and tears that I shed for many days and nights in their time of illness, their time of pain, their time of sorrow.

I felt pain when they were born but it was such sweet pain when I looked into the faces of the new life that I had given,
I felt joy when they were growing up and happiness when they became adults,
I felt pain when they left home to set up their new life but joy when they came to visit, sitting and laughing while they enjoyed their mothers cooking
I felt pain when they were going through difficulties but joy when they overcame their hurdles

Now I sit alone, some stranger, a prophet, in the name of religion, put their struggles and problems on my head. –“Your mother is a witch, she wants to destroy you” – oh the pain,

Just because I am old, a widow, helpless and defenceless
Just because my poverty and suffering is drawn on my face,
 I am the scourge of my village.  Would I destroy my life?
 Life that came out of me?
I may have lost my youth but not my mind
 
Now I don’t see my children, don’t know some of my grandchildren, my husbands family don’t remember me – oh the pain

There is a pain that never goes,
It just stays there in the heart,
In the womb
And gradually eats away at life itself – oh the pain

By the time I die it would be too late for any one to say I am sorry,
But I continue to love my children,
I continue to feel them in my arms,
I continue to see their laughter and joy
I continue to live for the day when I would be called “Maame” again- Oh the pain.

The compound, where the so-called witches lived continued to have the feeling of helplessness about it
Old men don’t get called witches,
They just marry younger women and continue with life,
What is it that women do wrong in their life?
Maybe they love and care too much,
Maybe they sacrifice too much,    
Maybe they feel too much.

One day, someone somewhere will weep, because they can no longer get back that mothers touch, that mothers love, that mothers smile, and they too will feel the pain

© Mariska Araba Taylor-Darko 2003




KAYAYE

It’s another day
and they are out again full of hope
scattered in the sun
like some disturbed ants
they burrow into the womb of the city
foraging for grains of silver;
at sunset they return wearied and worn
crawling into their shanty makeshift wooden homes
on the stinking estates
no longer slumped under the burden of the pan
but weighed down under the cargo of the mind
they curse their stars
and they curse their fate
and they curse the god of fortune and misfortune
as they retire to await the dawn of another hopeless day.


©  AZAGS AGANDAAH  2022