Hello lovely readers,
This month, I'll be sharing some of my favorite poems I have written so far. The first would be this one, because it was one of the first few poems I wrote when I began to take my poetry seriously.
As a child, living in the city of Accra, I spent a lot of time in the market which was loud, large, and yet so colorful and rich. I would do anything to make sure my Saturday afternoons were spent in the market instead of the quiet kitchen at home. I found that markets in New York were not the same as markets in Accra. I was highly disappointed because everything was too organized and I couldn't bargain for anything I bought... So mechanic. Here's a little bit of nostalgia in black ink and free verse.
A Taste of Accra
My feet in cold clay.
Dried in the burning heat of Accra.
My wet kente lies on twisted blue ropes.
Welcomed by the high-pitched chattering of fat market
women. Sweet juice from red tomatoes and acid green peppers,
blend with the sourness of gari, dried fish, and wet snails.
A school girl squats near a Forget-Me-Not tree.
Her beige overalls sag between brown legs.
She bites into a purple Indian almond, waving away flies.
Peep! Peep! from long lines of lorries
standing under the orange sun.
Fading in the music, I hear
the invisible crickets wail,
and the pitiful moan
of the Christmas goat.
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