Ssebo gwe wange! You pound me like the engalabi I slap the wall to your rhythm Sharp, Unforgettable, you are lightening Subdued, I moan like thunder Your sweat erodes layers of my sanity I’m in a dream and shouldn’t wake I’m in a nightmare Ssebo gwe wange! You hold two balls of tropical sunshine over…
Micropoems
Beauty There is beauty in stubbornness. in falling down, and picking yourself up Is it not the rising and falling of the waves that keeps the Ocean alive? ****** Find Yourself I provide you with water in a bowl, kneeling with love, Waiting for you to sip it all. Something about the way you Sip…
Aria Deemie
At just 24 years old, one might not expect such acute awareness, such tangible sensitivity, capable of recounting raw and painful realities with clear, transparent, effective words. But we are in Liberia, and she belongs to a generation born while the second civil war was still raging, enduring its effects in the difficult civil and…
Roberta Turkson – Robbie Ajjuah Fantini
Roberta Turkson’s career in poetry started in 2011, as a way to drive the pain off her chest, after failing to fulfil the fondest dream of having her own traditional Ghanaian restaurant in Nashville. “With lots of time on my hands and pain in my heart, I took to writing which turned out to be…
But How Can I Be Me?
I am not who I want to be The only person in my way is me The lives of the ‘amour propre’ I see But how can I be me? I don’t want to die an arm candy I really want to be happy Happiness without being sappy But how can I be me? But…
The 3rd
1- My rebelliousness cowered at the sound of bullets and teargas. 2- I stood behind my parents words and their fear of losing me in the mess. 3- Collapsing needs one to be standing.. but I was already lying down when my mother called to tell me about the news she was watching on TV….
I Lost My Teeth in a Fight
I. My father tries to kill me twice before the age of twelve. both times I’m a tiny thing on a floor. He breaks the branch of a jacaranda tree on my skin and I lose my voice. In both scenarios he screams: I will kill you. In both scenarios, my mother stands by and…
An Aquafer
I’m a solid rusty ground My chest A magma kind of rock But deep underneath it I’m an aquifer That runs a thousand feet deep Roaring silently Swirling quietly Like a tornado Waiting to come to surface An endless sea that takes off the land To evacuate no more Link to the Italian translation
Hypersexualization of the African woman
Fetishized My worthiness is measured in cup sizes and big booty. Integrity is dismissed and compromised. Body parts named policed and sexualized. They say: “it’s the sway of my African belle derriere the clumsiness of my breasts the fullness of my lips and the arch of my back”. Objectified by the media, my nudity is…