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Best Poems Written by Eugene Yeboah

Below are the all-time best Eugene Yeboah poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Letter From Your Pothead Son

I have had one sanctuary 
to protect me from the wild, 
she is a lone wolf, 
majestic her style. 
She said walk like a god, 
so my goddess will find me, 
my shining north star,
when I am lost out at sea. 

You are my mother, 
that status is yours,
love without stipulation, 
since the days of all fours. 
So to this I impart, 
to beloved matriarch, 
a bit of my soul 
manifested in art.

A sardonic variety 
our relation can be, 
when I say I'm with friends, 
I bring doubt and worry. 
And rightfully so, 
for you see through my guise, 
in my blood shot, 
laid back 
and satisfied eyes. 

The problem with change 
is it elicits disdain, 
I am flawed 
I am maturing, 
but you'll be okay. 
I am your son, 
not your baby, 
this you must comprehend, 
but that never means 
that our kinship will end. 

For you are my mother, 
your pride in me glows, 
from my dizzying heights, 
to my miserable lows. 
No more I can say, 
It’s a fruitless endeavor, 
my appreciation for you, 
will last forever. 

So allow me to conclude, 
on one final note, 
and utter these words,
before they are never spoke.
You'll worry about me, 
its what all mothers do, 
I understand your sacrifices 
and I love you too.

Copyright © Eugene Yeboah | Year Posted 2013



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Freedom Is

to be free,
is between,
the metal and ink,
the multitude and the one,
where match has found powder, 
where ideas have found guns.

Between foe and friend, 
the rise and descend, 
a new beginning,
born from violent end.

Between the dreams of the young,
the impatience of old,
where the heart burns with pride,
but the blood has turned cold.

Between the indifferent rich,
the proles who've grown tired,
where a sea of blood,
meets horizon of fire.
Some view things as hopeless,
say acceptance is key,
but I'd rather die standing,
than living on knees.

For what can they do,
to a people with no hope,
refusing surrender,
will no longer cope.
When beasts are unchained,
a thunder with cleansing rain,
rambunctious, unyielding,
it won't be contained.

Liberty for man,
to distant to see,
but one things for certain, 
he will have to bleed.
if you want seat at banquet
to partake in the meal,
uproot indignation.
replant it in steel.

If we seek to be free, 
to control destiny,
observe this to do list,
heed this decree.

You must live, 
fight, 
kick, 
scream.

Unite, 
march
stand 
lead.

Claw, 
bite, 
falter, 
succeed.

Shoot, 
kill, 
and die, 
free.

Copyright © Eugene Yeboah | Year Posted 2013

Details | Eugene Yeboah Poem

Remember Why the Caged Bird Flew: a Tribute To Maya Angelou

The caged bird utters bemused tweet
ignorant to the truth, yet aware of deceit.
It wishes to die
for its life is a lie
he's condemned to his feet
when he's made for the sky.

Spent all his known life
confined to a cage
his protest unheeded, fell silent with rage.
But once in a while
he sounds painful trill
for desires unknown 
but longed for still

Gone are the days of somber songs
a new wrathful melody
seeks right for the wrong.
Seeks an end to his squalor, 
endured for so long
he dares for the sky, 
where he knows he belongs

His futile hollers abound dusk till dawn
until owner, fed up
checks to see what is wrong
Cranky,
enraged, 
owners not slept for days
screams "shut the ****! up" 
as bars violently shake.

But in callous fury, 
he makes crucial mistake
for unhinged and open is the door of the cage.
Now caged bird is free,
he flies to the sill
ambitions unknown
but his own to fulfill
former owner
dumbstruck,
some tears well in his eye
he desperately pleads
"Oh sweet bird come inside".
Turns and shits on the offer
for he would much rather die
with the world at his feet, 
he takes to the sky.

Copyright © Eugene Yeboah | Year Posted 2013


Book: Reflection on the Important Things