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.
No comments:
Post a Comment