Summer Shakespeare!!

Exciting Summer program about to take place in Ghana!!

http://www.summershakespearegh.com/ 

Arts in Ghana

I remember growing up and the voices of the old ones

The wisdom passed down to my by my respected elders

Nuggets of years lived, 

Experience worn

and Badges of knowledge attained by the years on this earth

"Such a waste of time!"

"Do your times table!"

"Count the pawpaw seeds!"

The pencil slapped from the hands of the young dreamer,

The seedling choked out, 

The very being and passions within discouraged, 

Because there is little avenue for the Arts in Ghana. 

Please help this change.

The Kasemo Art Initiative's aim is to encourage and promote the Arts in Ghanaian children. 

Please help in any way that you can.

kasemoart.blogspot.com

Unrequited

I love my little jerk.

The one who never listens when I talk,

The one who says I could look better,

The one who uses words

Not as truth 

But as fillers of the time and space.

The one who thinks my caring is annoying

The one who wants to be left alone,

Untouched.

The gnarly bearded gnome who comes around at night;

Hungry for some midnight porridge:

My warm bowl of sweet sop

I love the one who thinks of him and he alone,

Who dreams of the silence of my absence,

While I yearn for the quietness of his presence 

Because for him talking to me is a pained chore.

I miss the one who rejoices at my waning shadow and cringes at the approaching steps of my advent.

I miss the one whose mind can spare not moment nor second wasted on the worthless thought of me

My heart and soul, my head, my body desires and screams, craves and aches for a sign,

As minute as the flicker of tenderness in a strangers eyes- love

A twitch in the corner of a lip- smile

A flick of a finger in my direction- hug

A parting of the lips, if for a moment

So I can dream the thoughts and words to the action

"I love you"

Mohawk Boy

Six year old man rocks the mohawk of a rock star,
Confidently concentrates on his swagger strut
As he follows his dad around the airport terminal.

Thinking with my mother's brain I disapprovingly judge his parents
With my little sister's face, I smile and flash a thumbs up
My teacher's heart warms at his childfulness.

Outward appearance has an impact on everyone,
How much it matters to you makes you
Dress to impress, you or them.

Tooth Decay

Sweetheart,
Sugar pie,
Honey bun
Sweetie pancake,
Sugar plum
Hon muffin
Sweet cheeks
Sugar love
Honey bunch


Sweet,
Sugar,
Honey,


Mon chou
Mon sucre d'orge
I wanna taste your goodies,
Put some sugar on me,
Chocolate love.

Eats through the hard enamel epidermis,
drills through soft tissue, seeps down to nerve tissue till abscess forms.
Rotting away the very core of the heart.

Beautiful

"You are beautiful indeed, I should have told you more times"
The empty words of a wounded soldier,
Won who played the battle as a game,
And lost the war,
And in the damning loser's shame
Is attacked by brutal reality
He spews the truth in an attempt to recover some dignity
But there is none for the cowardly.
This war has no room for the wounded.

Pieces

A pile of edges heaped in the center of the cold hard floor
Staring into the eyes of the thinker
Teasing,
Mocking
The curves meet the straights
And the straights quickly freeze into corners.
Together the peck paints a picture enshrouded
With the faces and the backs of maybes and what-nots
But each  knot carefully untied reveals the beauty of the string
And with careful thought; pure patient plotting
The painting dries-the puzzle complete
Whole is born with the death of pieces.

His Eyes

Warm rays gently kiss the windows to his soul 

Golden flecks dance upon the crystal epidermis   

What treasures they endeavor to behol' 

Nought one as priceless as it's butterfly kiss 

But tease you to flirt with the depth of the brown 

A brown so pure it becomes in flashes- gold 

Centered by the honesty of dark piths

Ingested, locked behind the shut open gates to who he is

Yet enthralling in the truth they seek. 

A comforting gaze, gently boring...

Close

Flicker and the mirage deceives in coy pretense

Unknowing, unfeelingly loving and familiar 

Tenderly trenchant, the drops spill as an accidental waterfall quenching desert hearts

Comatose

For days I have laboured to detangle the iron bars wrought around my heart.
But as I perspired, the harder they clenched their grip in an unbreakable squeeze
Smothered into silence, my body was numbed and the words of my feelings couldnt scream
The mind slipped and the soul barefly lingered as the threads that sew together the fragments of my being were unraveled.
Push as I may shove, my sweat only fertilized the pot of my enemy
I am dead if my soul cannot speak