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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
In youthful exuberance I become a culture bandit
Well exposed, but never really learning.
Modernity taking a toll as Papa and Ante chased the goods
For my sake they said... No mistakes... deed was good
Nanny TV with her bright inviting light
My imagination on wide escapades around the world
And farther altering my personality by giving me languages, dress codes, and even an accent.
So I stole, other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere or so I thought.
And Yet
In all my juvenile delinquency I could never, tell an adult to his face you are wrong
Revering old age; what is that, where is that from?
In my Success in Corporate with policy of first names and no regard for age but ability and brain
I could never bring myself to say Pat.
Aunty Pat can you please email the document to me
Wait, what? Am I not her boss.
So I stole…. Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere, Or so I thought.
Drawn to the immaculate white of that gown
Instinctively I top it off with a colorful Kente Scarf?
The height I can rock in these 6 inch heels
but how Royal the Ahenema slippers makes me feel
This perfect perfect pony will do well with…. no not pearls or sapphire;
Animal bone necklace and earrings
Oh how perfect my manicure will be accessorized with these….no not diamonds
Bamboo bangles
I will wear the jeans, But only with that tank top with Adinkra symbols
So I stole… other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere… or so I thought.
My true culture grasping at my core
As I gasped, when that little boy called his father’s friend Larry
When He picked the carrot stick with his left hand from the bowl serving the community I died
Though it didn’t make sense because as a right handed person I would say my left hand is as clean as dried
I smiled brightly when that couple spoke Twi, while we waited for the A- train on the subway
My Culturally biased heart coveting a conversation
So I stole, Other cultures infused, fitting in everywhere
A cultural bandit … infused with other cultures… blending in well, or so I thought.
Without need of Affirmation, I have Ghanaian blood flowing through my veins
I know the voice of my people, the beautiful colour
Of the soul that makes a Ghanaian.
In the mother land or not. Ghana comes with us.
From generation to generation Ghana is us
Perfect Culture Chameleons
We fit right in
Ghana is our heritage.
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2018
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Details |
Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
Altercations between couples deafens explanation, fuss gets heightened.
In juggling keynotes, Love masks nuisance, openly publicizing queen’s right.
Stained truth, undoubtedly vocals wear. Xenophobia yields zeal
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
Another day to battle or play..depends on your level in the food chain
Never so hot and there!..a tree to snooze with one eye opened under, in this plain
Imagine the brook is cooler... too hot for the paw is the sand to thread on, Pain!
Mine is to lie with my belly in the air.... who is the smell in my turf, insane?
Antelope!... mine is to stretch a paw and lunch is your name
Lion as I am though, let the Lioness bring in this maimed
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
There I go fussing
‘Cause you is coming
There I go smiling
It’s you I be loving
There I see heaven
In your perfect Beethoven
Humming, Here I come giving
Dead jealous of the living
In tune to your rhythm
Full chest heaving on a proud sternum
Here I find infinity
Comfort in your calming unity
When Jehovah bless the discernment, I’m hoping,
Its gon’be you I be loving
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
100 days to that day
The stars clapped
When the cap with your lip print
Landed in my hand, so perfectly and clear,
The print of your lips I could almost trace
So I cut to the chase, while my heart race
To the denial that I’ve got feelings for the lace
That follows your essence as you move past me.
Clearly you do not see me
Obviously my feeling does not scream
The cream on my lips that I keep plum does not suggest
My luminous corner craving your attention does not say.
The obvious luscious body in the dress I chose does not communicate.
Clearly my actions do not shout enough.
So, I wait for the 100th day.
For it was a 100 days to the perfect day
When expressing love in words is in order.
In wait I count down the days 100 to one.
At one you were still the one
None had my attention
None Held my heart arrest in the rhythm yours did.
Every word I chose stood pointed to you
Every expression expressly about you
Every choice of color as hot as you
Mine was yours and only yours
I watched you walk toward my beckon
Without reservation your steps bold towards me
I can swear I forgot to breathe
All I could hear was my heart beat to your steps
Though concrete and silent it was far reaching and controlling
One I did not resist.
Just a fraction of that attraction
I harbored and labored to control
Over powering as I Handed you the piece of me
That piece of hard paper that could only carry the words,
“Be My Valentine.”
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
When the crack lands on the ice in me
Where will you be?
When the flash lights up the eyes that be
Will you see?
When the darkness swallows the dimmest
Will your light manifest?
When brimstone falls in tongues and cloves
Will there be greenery and light for the gentle dove
Carved in the cages of my sympathy
There is a mighty that preserves empathy
Down in that which cradles my brain is the inscription “my belief.”
There the cries of doom are blocked and faith sums my relief
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
Because we have not a say
To what at all cost may
We just brace ourselves
And choose to embrace the will
To accept the will that will.
After that long hard life
Or different without strife
The acceptance of the meaning of freedom
Or rejection for never being free
The acceptance of what is accepted
To be the meaning of being rich
Or rejection for ever being poor
For acceptance of the other with a different color
Or the rejection for the difference
We are one with one world
One to which we came
And which we leave
In the temporal condition called life
why do we then bind ourselves with the restrictions
Of do(s) and don’t(s), likes and dislikes.
But rather living with an open mind
Accepting the raw and cooked
Rejecting only with the sense of preference
Preserving the beautiful color of life for our children
When finally good morals is a life style.
Tomorrow without you will then be birthed,
After a perfect today with you.
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
I find it amazing
That “seers” see less in the bliss of the grace
And every fore telling is the embrace of chaos
That many “seers” see to confirm the pending destruction
And yet we doubt the existence of the “god” of the day.
One source is these sights I say.
I find it intriguing
Seers foretelling admittedly subject to humanity
You tell me the sky will fall, and the earth will melt
Yet by my actions, to these sights, the earth I can pelt
And protect my beloved from the sights of the day
I will be a fool to doubt the existence of the God of my day
Keeping to his word I stand tall, though a thousand shall
fall.
I find myself saying
Let the sky fall, let the earth melt,
Let the stars align, the economy collapse,
And let chaos consume the civil
My Offspring with thrive, Mercy will my cap fill
The living will be birthed in my house, to others thrill
My land will bring forth in its season.
My end will be at the birth of the living
Not the Dawn of simple reasoning.
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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Abigail Aye-Addo Poem
The raid is the mind in your fear.
The purpose of which is spelt by light voices in your ear.
Are you sure its really not here?
Are those really voices you hear?
Watch, as I, uncertainty grips your core.
And rips the foundation that strengthens the pure,
I cause sweat in the proud as an outpour.
And the excuses to why you shake…poor
Creeping up your spine
Darkness hovering like sour wine
Forcing its way down your gut as you whine
Then coming back up you are totally mine
Are those really voices your hear
Have you ever faced fear?
I whisper in your ear.
This is fear right here.
Copyright © Abigail Aye-Addo | Year Posted 2011
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