Poems that describe my current feelings!

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting 

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

The Summer Day

      -Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean-
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down-
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Looking back

I'm finally back home in New York City and it feels so good to be around family and around Ghanaian food(haha). I decided to take a week off before getting back to school work but I realized that it's very difficult to do that. So I'll have to ether share some pictures or write that's captivating and inspiring.

For now, I'll just share some pictures.

Is it Necessary to Fall?

Today I didn't try at all. *shake my head sadly* I failed at staying on my bicycle and not actually falling off for the second time in a week. I think this time it was a little funny because I fell on(yes ON!!! not even OFF) my bike without actually even mounting on it. How could I have possibly done so? Such embarrassment; those camp kids must have pitied me, standing a few feet behind me, wearing bright orange shirts with large white prints that said something motivational something enlightening: I don't know what it said, I couldn't look well because I was busy falling.

Why is the idea of falling so embarassing, completely shameful, so demeaning? I think this shame is exacerbated when you aren't even pushed but rather fall because you tripped or slipped. It's completely absurd when others see you fall and ask "Are you okay?" I want to respond "No I'm actually not okay, I just fell and I think I scraped my really nice legs which already have scars from my previous falls" but all I say is "Yes, thank you for asking." 

Once at a university,( I always fall terribly during summer school programs, maybe I should stop attending them) I fell, running away from the rain. I had my laptop in hand and there was no building close by so I hoped I would make it to my dorm which was about 10 minutes away (such wishful thinking on my part.) I begged the rain not to touch me or my laptop but I forgot it didn't have ears. Not only did I get beaten by the rain but I also slipped and fell down a flight of stairs. I don't know how we both survived but, here I am telling the story... well my laptop didn't really survive.. but again a sweet couple asked if I was doing fine and then I smiled, with all the pain in my knees saying "yes, thank you." I was pretty hurt that day but didn't have the time for formalities: to nurse the pain and feel pity for myself.

Since then, I've been afraid of falling because I might lose my two front teeth and not be able to smile on my wedding day. But even worse than my fear of falling is my fear of failing. It's like falling only it embarrasses your emotions and causes them to sometimes mock you and laugh at you. I'm talking about that feeling where you feel so hot and a certain warmth tickles your stomach muscles and you don't want to swallow your spit anymore because that one goal you worked at for so long wasn't successful. I've been there so many times that it makes me itch. Caution this feeling comes in different forms such as vomiting, crying, fever, depression, overeating, restrictions may apply...See a doctor if symptoms get worse. 

Failing sucks so much that sometimes I'd rather fall and dust off the dirt and get on my bike again. But what if I was to fall off a building? Then I would die! haha let's not trail away to the negative realms.

I think if we begin to see failing as falling, life wouldn't be so terrible. So you failed that test, and it would affect you GPA, and you won't graduate and the worst thing in the world happens and then what? You wake up tomorrow and continue your life. You are not the first person to fail at whatever you are doing and even if you were you would certainly not be the last. It is really what you do after failing/falling that matters. If  you don't get up immediately after failing and falling, it is not much of an issue. You have the chance to cry and wail and nurse your pain and do whatever allows you to cope with your pain and embarrassment but at some point,
you must end your dramatic reaction, get up, and continue to live.

The moving on process is not supposed to be sweet and extra cheesy or creamy or even have some inspirational music in the background. But it can be. You will need to have a more positive disposition towards life and keep telling yourself "It will get better. It must get better. until it actually gets better"

Natural Hair Gone Wrong!

This post has been long overdue...most people, when they go natural, find they have to give a reason for why they thought it was okay to just chop of most of their hair so it could grow so thick and curly  and healthy and all that good stuff. I am not here to give you that reason because honestly, I think you don't care...and also because I think it doesn't matter: you have had several reasons to do wild and crazy things to your hair but never felt the need to explain(maybe you did) and so why should I?

What I really want to talk to you about is how difficult it is to be natural..like being yourself kind of thing. Boy! Have you ever tried being normal? I'm not talking about pretending. I'm talking about just you being the abnormally normal person you are?

Let me share my NATURAL story.

I did not do the "big chop." I wasn't bold enough. My cheeks would be too fat, my forehead would be out, big and visible, all the blackheads on my face would show miserably well. But I wanted to go natural. My permed hair was all thin and  never grew any longer after it got permed. So I stopped perming and just continued to braid : twists,box braids, and all that. It was all going well until one day a GUY pointed out that I needed a perm. How embarrassing!  (As if I couldn't see the struggles on my head)

 

So time went on, birds flew in the sky, babies were born and I finally decided to cut off my permed hair after growing it naturally for six months. After I cut it, there was almost nothing left on my head. However, I was all bold(and a little bald) and confident until Monday came around and I had to go back to school and I thought "that guy that had been checking me out won't look at me again after he sees this hair"...no I couldn't do this to myself. So I braided my hair with really long twists :color 4 and color 33, nothing special until I was tired of covering my head with two shower caps every time I took a shower (see below) .

After spring beak I took those threads down and my "natural " hair seemed to not have grown an inch. Where was the fabulousness these girls on YouTube were talking about? All free and liberating...yeah right!!!. I felt anxiety every time I wanted to reveal my hair. I felt like I wanted to glue my permed hair back on. I felt someone could have at least told me that the courage wasn't in the hair but actually in the person. 

So I took the short look to church and the comments I heard just poured cold water on my soul : this one lady looked at me, squeezed her face like I had farted and said "why did you cut your hair?" and when I told her why, it seemed the reason was not enough. So I stopped explaining and only said something like "you know, I'm trying something new."

I was so insecure I wanted to cut all my hair off: like that would have made anything better. So I added more extensions to my "afro" like hair. The only catch was that these new extensions looked like my own hair and so when people would say " I love your hair" I would say "thanks"...I didn't want to disappoint them and let them know it was fake. That I was fake. So I carried on feeling confident with 100% human hair ...Janet. .thank you Janet for your service.

But then the extensions started to stink and it was unfitting so I took them out and decided I was coming out...lol. Mainly because school was out and it was getting hotter by the day. So I wore my natural hair and no one even cared. All this while I was caring about people not caring about how I looked.  If I had just stopped and just been myself.

Disclaimer: Natural hair is real. The shrinkage is real. The struggle is real. Everything is real. But I would not have it any other way...until I decide I don't want to be real anymore.

There are many reasons for individuals to think that their lives must be a show. You don't have to wake up putting on a show for anyone unless you think its necessary. However, I think that it's just wrong to pretend for a long time: you will get tired. But just remember no one really cares about why you have green or blue hair. They might question, disagree, or even reject you but at least you have given them a taste of #teamnatural.

Taking A Trip to Standford University

Hello All,

I have been MIA a little because I took a trip again, this time to Stanford University for summer research. I just wanted to keep you posted with some pictures and will definitely write a post about how everything else is going.

Getting lost with the clan...going for a picnic.

Chili and watermelon flavored candy

My bicycle (adwoa Pokuaa

Pinata (I originally thought this was spongebob)

I'm not sure why I was laughing so hard.

With Lorena (my swimming/sushi tutor)

Graduation Pictures

Hello All,

I know I have not been very consistent with updating my blog. I am sincerely sorry as I was trying to graduate. Since graduation, I have been trying to get some rest which has been extremely difficult as I have realized that I have spent most of my time being "busy." I have, however, decided to stop lazying around and get back to being "busy" before my summer "work" (I'll explain later).

Anyways, hats off to the big man beyond the clouds for seeing me through four years of college. I know, I didn't get to be Valedictorian this time so I must present my speech here. I really appreciate all the support, guidance and laughs I got from most of my friends, mentors, and family members. There were so many times I felt like giving up but didn't even know how to but the journey has been truly beautiful to say the least. I had never imagined that I would attend a commuter college ( I always wanted to go far away and live on campus) but it wasn't that bad. The greatest lesson I learnt from these four years is that one should always find joy in his or her situation. Create the joy, bring life to it, make it burn all the negativity and let it bring forth peace into your heart.

Here are some pictures from the wonderful day which took like an hour... (BA, English Literature,Honors)

A couple of English Majors with the director of the Mellon Fellowship

Not listening to the boring speech, waiting to be called on stage.

Having fun with the camera

My big sis and I

With the Dean of Humanities and Arts

Taking a selfie with my mother.

These two...great friends. (  I am not sure why I was so happy )

The Ansong Ladies!

Imani...

After graduation celebration

I did it!!! wohoooo

Pictures from my Birthday

I was blessed to celebrate my 21st birthday a month and a day ago. It's truly great to see how I have accomplished so much in just 21 years of being on this earth. I owe it to God, supportive family members, and friends who drink a lot of water! 

Just wanted to share

Dear Method by Noviolet Bulawayo

  Here is a short story I found on Noviolet Bulawayo's Blog. I thought it was rather funny.  Here's a link to the blog if you want to check out more of her writing. 

http://novioletbulawayo.blogspot.com/search?updated-max=2012-12-25T21:23:00-08:00&max-results=11&start=11&by-date=false

 

P. O. Box 3

Dear Method

If waiting killed I would be dead by now, dead from waiting for a letter from you, a letter that never comes. I have wept and prayed and hoped; I have gone mad, I have suffered, I have everything. Now I do not know, I just don’t, except maybe that if waiting killed, I would be dead. All I want is to know you are well, Method, that is all. Not more than that, no, not more than that. Even if its one sentence, one word, I do not care, just as long as I know how you are keeping. Tell me shuwa Method, utshukuthi you cannot even find time to write just one word, one word to your own mother? Kambe sibili have you forgotten? Forgotten who carried you, who chose to carry you even if those doctors advised against it, even if they said, woman, you are old and you are unhealthy, you may not survive this pregnancy, it will kill you. Yes, maybe you have forgotten who chose to die for you, forgotten who gave birth to you at Mtshabezi Hospital, forgotten who walked all the way with you on her back to Mfundisi Gatsheni’s home when you were sick and couldn’t talk, couldn’t eat, couldn’t cry, couldn’t nothing, forgotten who prayed for you, who cried for you, who lived for you, who suffered for you. Have you forgotten Method, sukhohliwe? If I wasn’t a woman of God I would be saying things to you right now, Method. I have words and words inside me that I want to say but I cannot because I am not an ordinary person anymore, I am with Christ now, but if I wasn’t I would say them. Yes, I would spit them on this paper, then maybe you would understand what I am feeling, then maybe you would know that no, what you are doing is bad, it is very bad what you are doing, akulunganga sibili. It is uncultured, it is disrespectful, it is dishonorable, it is not supposed to be done by sons to their own mothers who carried them. I don’t even know what you think you are doing; what are you doing Method? Answer me that, just answer me that. And whatever it is that you doing, know, again, that it is dishonorable, and that Jesus is watching your every move and he knows it all.

Your mother, MaS’thole

Birthday Wish List

 Hello all,

I guess I gave up on poetry. I came up with a birthday wish list and wanted to share it with you guys.

 http://www.colehaan.com/gramercy-oxford-cap-toe-irnstn-hass-grn/D40789.html?dwvar_D40789_color=Irnstn%2Fhass%20Grn#cgid=sale_womens&start=56
 I love something classic, a keeper. 

http://www.michaelkors.com/p/Michael-Kors-Michael-Kors-Mini-Size-Blair-Multi-Function-Glitz-Watch-Rose-Golden-Rose-gold/prod15090012___/?eItemId=prod15090012&cmCat=search&searchType=MAIN&icid=&rte=%252Fsearch.jhtml%253FN%253D0%2526Ntt%253DRose%252Bgold%2526_requestid%253D229909

I don't own a ladies watch, might as well get something fancy.

http://www.toms.com/womens/shoes/classics/black-canvas-wm-clsc-alprg/s

Toms are really comfortable...see previous posts. My mom threw my old ones away because they had holes in them. Now I need new one. I miss them :(

Oh and I just love books!

The Palm-Wine Drinkard & My Life in the Bush of Ghosts (Paperback)
by Amos Tutuola
Xala (Paperback)
 Osumane Sembene
So Long a Letter (Paperback)
Mariamba Ba

The Joys of Motherhood (Paperback)
Buchi Emecheta

Aké: The Years of Childhood (Paperback)
by Wole Soyinka

And some more!!!

He'll raise stones
for priase
He'll raise stones
for sons
after men
come stones;
stubborn in every size. 

So I've been reading the Bible lately and I just discovered that God must like stones a lot. I'm just wondering though, if God replaces me with a stone, that will be one of the saddest days of my life.  I can do more than a stone...maybe that's all He's trying to say.


There are three reasons
why
I love you
1. The goat standing there
can't tell of our love
2.The trees can only stare
and wave its branches
3. the blood that pumps
my heart has no sense
of direction.

A week later...

And so where have I been?

Last week was extremely hectic for me. I was trying to piece together words for a presentation and also trying to organize something else, (I have forgotten what) but it seemed like my forever was near. I did not want to write poetry or read poetry or even.... Here I am, a week later, feeling bad for not keeping up to my promise/goal. I don't have seven poems to make up for all of this lost precious time, but I have a few...

True story...simply that

Passing Winds

I lost my big toe nail

On a Sunday afternoon

Sliced in half

By a falling blackboard

Pushed by the passing wind

My sister nursed

The green and pale skin

With a white napkin

Salty bubbly water

Pierced my wound

The steam in my screams

Called the hot winds

To serve me with cool warmth

My Well Runs Dry

Aku and I

raced with empty buckets

to the well

while crickets stretched limbs

and the sun cracked from its shell

My metal bucket

half empty

balanced on my neck

My arms stretched

to guard what remained

We didn’t race back

A mountain of clothes

laid waiting

My grandmothers garden

Grew thirsty.

Ampe is a game little girls like me used to play in Accra. It was so much fun because it involved several people. Sometimes I made my greatest enemies from playing ampe: simply because they had “shot” me out of the game at its early stages. I can’t play ampe in America, whatever that means.

Ampe

girls jumping

kicking tan sands

into the air

they clap

pa pa pa

singing songs

of home



Channeling my inner African? NO! I was simply retelling observations of my lifestyle. I didn't live in a jungle...it's just similar to how New Yorkers (some) live with rats/mice/roaches :Each region to its own.

Wild life

in Accra,

I shared my bed

with a yellow lizard

and ate with a baby cockroach

I ate my sweets with red

soldier ants

and sold my garbage

to the bald wet vultures

I complained to the bats

their bite marks

impressed on the indian almond

a green snake watched

my grandmother’s crops

grow

and fed them to the crows.

The Mirror

I have two poems for you guys today. "The Mirror" and "Looking for the Song in my Life." Both poems were written as I began my 2nd semester in poetry class. I like writing poetry because I am honest. That is all I have to say for now.

The Mirror

Why do we
call Narcissus 
a fool
For falling
into the water?
let's ask the flower
it will know.
Our image drawn
reflects our imperfections.
If mirrors were oceans,
we might all be roses, lilies,
flowing amidst the stream.





Looking For The Song In My Life"

I forgot how to write a poem
how to make letters dance
and touch the skin of the brain.
So I began to sing.
I sand numbers,
calculating
the time and time
I thought about
rhythm and rhyme
alliteration
I whistled to the birds
some blue, some yellow
watching us converse.
The voices tell me
if you ever forget how to love
Just remember. 

For April 8th -Untitled

I was fooled
Beauty is not skin deep
It's soul deep
It's the worm eating
Up your essence
The sand covering
Your graveyard
The need to justify
That existence becomes explosive
Each time
You hold your
Breath...e
Beauty is that dying boy
At the end of the street
Who sticks his tongue out
To taste the rain

For April 7th...

I know, I don't want to forget about tomorrow so let's start living it now...

My Ghana is blue

My Ghana is blue

like ink

floating

on a burnt British Flag

sweat flows

from the forehead

of a schoolboy

selling charcoal

blue like

air inhaled by taxi drivers

in the cracks of harmattan

black like tainted oxygen

that shreds bullets of war

My Ghana is blue

like the voices in the sky

walking away...

There is so much joy knowing what you like and knowing what you don't. I like being able to express what I want to say but I don't like being questioned for what I believe in. I believe in Ghana but don't ask me why.

April 6th- Betrayed

Betrayed

if rage could be dipped in butter,
and melt in a frying pan,
I will be that heat in glory
steaming to burn the life out of you.
The lies you told me crippled my eyes.
I felt the coldness of your mind,
and the knife you held close to my heart.
Truth be told, I always saw your hands
dripping of cold sticky blood.
You washed with water from the purest valley,
but the scent of life remained fresh.
Now we stand face to face
You wound me.
You rip my love apart.
I bleed dark hatred.

I wrote this poem because I was so very angry. It wasn't a break up or a guy trashing my love. It was a friendship that had been mishandled. Maybe I was taking things too seriously but at that moment I felt betrayed and the excuse was just not good enough. I am grateful for the experience even though my friendship with that person is not as strong. However, I have learned to walk around with forgiveness in my pocket...

April 5th-West African Paradise

West-African Paradise

My West-African paradise

stands behind peach bars.

A mango tree folds

its arms

but throws down yellow beans

when whipped.

High in the dirty violet sky,

a pale pawpaw tree hides

treasures of soft pebbles

but spits black seeds

when whipped.

The blind vampires

chew the purple

Indian almond,

licking the seed dry.

The leaves of the yam

hug the fufu pistol.

Blushing red tomatoes stand

beside excited carrots.

Mild green peppers sweat.

A forest green snake

guards my grandmother’s jewels.

I wrote this poem because I missed my home in Ghana. The only thing "unreal" about this poem is possibly the vampires. Of course they were only bats but sometimes exaggerating ideas makes life more interesting.

April 4th- There Are No Spoons In My Kithcen

There are no Spoons in my kitchen

There are no spoons in my kitchen.

We cleanse our hands

of the black dirt,

washing away the skin.

When we eat,

hands feed the tongue,

sucking sweet marrow

from the legs of the quivering goat.

Hands dig out yams,

wipe the sand off its skin,

and hold the knife that breaks

it into white chunks.

The hand greets

heat, leaping out            

of soups, flowing                                                                                                                       

with pink garlic strips.

When we eat,

we talk with our lips,

swallow with our tongue,

taste with our hands.

Obviously, there are many spoons in my kitchen but I prefer to eat with my hands. I think you waste less of the food when you eat with your hands. Eating with your hands does not mean you are"uncivilized or incapable of using a spoon, it just means you are connected more to the food. So I wrote a poem that allowed to reason out loud and share with the rest of my class..culture/ethics/life.