Mini Mini Shoe Market

The sun was bright It was hot and sticky

 Market traders were out

 Customers being picky

 Suddenly in front of me

 Fantastic colours appeared 

Dazzling my eyes

 I saw the trader whose road side shop was

 Full of multi coloured shoes 

Every shoe had it's own story

Fruit Glorious Fruit by the roadside

The wonderfully colourful fruit

designed by God to entice the eyes and mouth 

call out "Buy me now"!  I am fresh, 

No pesticides, 

No GMO, 

No forced growth to ship abroad,

The fresh fruits, 

Rejected for export and considered imperfect 

But fresh for home use. 

Don't mind them, 

I am perfect for you,

"Buy me! I am yours!"

Rhythms of Poetry in Motion

My new poetry book is out - follow this link to order

The Sea Shore

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Sitting by the sea shore when dusk was setting in and the tide ebbing out

Was a peaceful moment for me,

The sand was damp in between my toes

I could still feel the warmth occasionally

When the wind stilled and all I could hear was

The water gently slapping the rocks besides me

The sky was red, orange, blue and grey

A combination that was wonderful to see

The gulls flew low on their way home

And the boats had their sails down, gently sailing

In no particular hurry to get back, so it seemed

The thoughts I had then were peaceful ones

I just sat and absorbed in the beauty around me

The crabs and seaweed seemed intertwined and moved in unison

One going sideways on its own fee will

The other having no will of its own was rolled about

Whenever the sea rolled in and out

If only life could be so peaceful,

Instead we fight against the nature of life

And end up tearing each other apart

Instead of rolling together in unison

We fight and hate and destroy

The very things that we love

Every grain of sand told a story of ones life

The ups and downs the joy and sadness

But it was the feel of the sand between my

Toes that I would have loved to have as the feel

Of life in my hands, smooth, flowing gently with

No obstacles and lumps and just the breeze to

Slightly change its direction before it landed and joined

The sand lying beneath my feet.

Loneliness

It creeps on you without you realizing it

Loneliness

There may be so much going on around you but its there

Loneliness

The silence, which was once welcomed, now changes to

Loneliness

The wide bed, which once was enjoyed, now shouts

Loneliness

No one to chat to, no one to gossip to, no one to stop the

Loneliness

Friends may be around, may call, may laugh and joke but in the end it is still

Loneliness

No unexpected phone call, no whispers of ‘I love you’ only

Loneliness

No touch when no one is looking, no secret glance into my eyes, only

Loneliness

No answer to the call of ‘I need you’ no SMS to let me know that wherever you are, you are thinking of me only

Loneliness

Friends may declare love but love without commitment leads to loneliness

The loneliness of staring at the phone, looking out the window, enough to drive you into the deeper pit of loneliness

Why did you leave me alone?

Why did you have to go?

Why did it have to end?

Why did you leave me with such

Loneliness?

I lOVE GHANA

From the moment my feet touched the ground 

The moment I heard the different sounds

The heat that hit my face made me know I’d found my place.   

Every trip back to this country of mine 

Makes me love it, in a way I can’t define. 

The different shades of people, 

The hustle in the street, 

The reckless bus drivers, 

The kaya girls in the street. 

The food by the roadside,  

The colours of the clothes, 

The smiles in the faces of young girls 

Carrying life giving water in colourful buckets.  

The hot early morning sun 

The chickens and goats all out to run, 

Even the mosquitoes make music before they bite, 

The smells in the air, 

The sight of children playing without worries 

And birds, all around in flight in some kind of hurry. 

The music filled with life  

The drums beating with powerful might, 

The church bells a ringing 

The night songs of Christian brethren  

The mosque cries a calling 

The hi fi’s loud and blaring 

The crowds always cheering  

The markets always bustling. 

I love Ghana! 

The solidarity when you mourn, 

The companionship when you celebrate, 

The shouts of good morning from strangers in the street  

Even when they were late and rushed off their feet.

Oh I love Ghana! 

The country of rich culture, 

Of Rich laughter, 

Of Rich music 

Of Rich tradition 

I love Ghana!

The food so colourful,  

The Palm soup rich red orange, 

The Kontomre mysteriously green, 

The Shito black as night, 

The Gari yellow as the sun,  

The Kokonte brown as earth,  

How can you feel so blue 

With colourful food that will overwhelm you.

 I love my country Ghana! 

People of different cultures

Different tribes, Different dialects, Different lives,

All thrown together In a great pot, 

Intertwined like the roots of the neem tree.

Each passing through life like a pothole in the street, 

Up down – in out, up down, up down. 

I love my country Ghana!

A place with cultures old and new 

Make up the national stew 

Life surrounded by powerful hardworking women 

The matriarchs alive and strong The ones who continued from times long gone 

Their influences always around, like the undercurrents of a river rolling along,

 Never visible but strongly felt once encountered. 

 I love Ghana!

The patience of the people queuing in long lines like millipedes 

 Lines for busses Lines to vote Lines for water Lines to eat 

Moving along with the shuffling of tired feet I love my country Ghana, 

The hustle, The bustle, The rhythms of life, 

 Pulsating along I can’t live without my country Ghana I love Ghana, 

 The sea so blue, Sands so white, Sun so hot, Trees green and just right, 

If I continue with this love of mine I’ll talk on and on into the night….but  

Oh how I love Ghana!

 Out of this poem, I dreamt a poetry book for children available on amazon.

Reading of I love Ghana filmed by Laban Hill

The Dancer

The dancer moved to the drum beat 

His expression full of heat 

His neck moved in unison with his feet

 His hands told a story His eyes spoke of things past, present and future 

His beauty enough to move you 

His feet moved gracefully 

His body twisted and turned like a piece of leaf in the hot sun 

 His muscles rolled and jerked to the pulsating rhythm of the drum beat. 

Every so often his cloth slid down his hips and his graceful fingers pulled it in place 

The movement so slight you’d hardly notice. 

The drummers drummed in a trance 

Their rhythms vibrating up the soles of our feet 

The dancer kept on talking with his body 

Sweat run down his dark muscular flesh 

Only to fly off him when his movements jerked,

 Or when he jumped and landed on his feet. 

There was silence then a shout when the dance ended 

Women with brightly coloured scarves wiped the sweat off the dancer to acknowledge the beauty of the dance 

The dancer’s glazed eyes sparkled 

His lips turned up in a smile 

His spirit came back inside him 

The spirits of his forefathers had entered him 

During the rhythms of the beautiful dance

 

Natural Woman

 

Pic from instagram- I do not own the rights

When was the last time you felt the warm scalp of a woman
Run your fingers through her hair
Twisted her natural locks through your fingers
Or walked your fingers through the rows of braids
Just like walking through fields of corn

When did you see the true beauty of your African Woman?
Or saw a flawless dark skin?
Or kissed her natural plump lips?

From the days of slavery black women were told “ You gotta have hair like “Massa” ,
Don't want no nappy haired black as sin gal in the house”
The beautiful black women were kept in the cotton fields
While those that had lighter skin,
The products of the slave master s were kept as house slaves
If your hair was long and straight, without a natural crinkle it was your bonus,                                           A passport to heaven,
 A ticket to the illusion of freedom

Now, I hardly see an original black woman
They all seem to have become Chinese, Brazilian, Indian and European
Flicking about hair that is not their own
That may be from a horse, a yak or plastic factory
Afraid to show their natural beauty
Afraid because their men have been conditioned to think that a perfect woman has straight hair and fair skin
Afraid because their sisters would laugh and tease them for their tight curls

Wake up!
Have you ever really looked at the beauty of a black woman, all natural and dark?
They way her teeth and eyes sparkle in contrast to her skin
The way her hair feels soft like the ends of an ear of corn
Or woolly like that of a new born lamb
Twisting and curling itself through your fingers
True feelings exploding through the shaft of natural hair

Men! Treat a natural woman with respect
Women! rise up for the natural woman who dared
For her inner strength and inner pride have made her able to go against the norm
To show her true self
Just the way God made her-----------------
Perfect
A beautiful black woman

Written for launch day of Bless the Mic, Ghana. 9/11/2008 (c) Mariska Araba Taylor-Darko 2008

Ebusia - Do the right thing

There are some elders who completely disgrace the title
The elders are supposed to be men or women of dignity
But what do we see?
Bickering over property when death puts its icy hands on a family member
Selling off of family land to make profit rather than thinking of the future generations
Even to the point of cheating the family who actually want to improve the area
Oh how I weep inside with I hear of these actions
The custodians of the family land, of the family property behaving like vultures on a tip.

Oh Ebusia
Why, do you take the nipple from the suckling babe?
Why do you strip them of their future?
Sometimes no one knows who you are except the older generations
You did not show interest when the young were growing up
But now that they are dead you claim first place at every event
You perch yourself at a vantage point and watch with eagle eyes
To see who brought what, who donated what and frighten those who mourn
Not caring what the family want
Just to impose your tyrannical laws upon them
Oh Ebusia

No contribution to anything except to take,
pity is the poor mother, wife or child
If you have anything to do with their life
All you would want to know is where the key to the property was,
nothing about how the children would finish school,
how the wife or mother would live
Oh Ebusia

The dead most probably had the greatest respect for your wisdom
Talked about how you would make everything alright should something happen
But now you have done the opposite
And you wonder why the children ignore you when they grow up
Why the traditions are not being carried on through the generations
The same way you treat them is the same way your children will be treated
You may not be here to see the fruits of your bad labour
But it will happen
Do the right thing Ebusia
Shame the devil
Earn the respect and love of the family
So your name will be carried on down the generations
And people will stand at the mention of your name
People are watching you
The clan is watching you
The spirits are watching you
Ebusia

After the Storm

It is dawn and all is still

The smell of settled dust and washed leaves fills the air

The sky, once dark and threatening turns blue The birds sing and chickens cluck over upturned food

When the storm came, all was lost

Nothing seemed right

No movement was heard in the night except the beating of rain on every available surface

like drums beating the war cry

All night long the rain came down, the once welcomed trickle turned into a nasty storm

What was once beautiful turned into a nightmare

 It was a great storm, a turbulent time that one thought would never end 

Everything changed the day you died

 Eyes lost their sparkle

Smiles disappeared 

Laughter stopped 

Happiness just faded into a distance.

The dull ache stayed permanently just below the womb you know the place, that bottomless pit

Now the storm is over

The calm that followed was a shock

The distruction clearly visible 

The effects of the storm showed in various ways. 

Things that were up-rooted were things that were washed away. 

Others were destroyed 

Some so far gone that there was no repair. 

Others like the seeds just floated along, settled and started to flourish. 

The weak was removed and the strong became stronger. 

The rays of light touched the heart, melting away all fear 

The terror that once held one captive disappeared 

 What was the purpose of the storm? 

We'll never know, but out of it came a certain understanding, 

A certain peace, 

A certain calm, 

A certain strength and a determination to go on and on and on. 

(c) Mariska Araba Taylor Darko 2003

 

 

 

Secret Friend

The touch was tender
The tingles to remember
The kiss so gentle
The feelings high
The rhythm on my thighs
My mouth let out a sigh

The dance was slow
The music turned down low
The light not too bright
In the middle of the night
I wish it would never end
This journey with my secret friend

We met one day in a very strange way
Two lonely souls not really searching
But thrown together for a special reason.
I wish it would never stop
This feeling that makes my heart go hop.

Every time I meet my sweetheart
Nothing else seems to matter
The fear inside disappears
When my lover is close and near
I wish it would never end this feeling for my secret friend

The touch is still tender
The tingles, I don’t have to remember
Cos they are entwined around like the veins inside me
Don’t care about the future as long as this feeling never
Never departs from me
I wish it would never end
This destiny with my secret friend

Friends v Family

Friends that you acquire on the way
Can be discarded at any whim
If they hurt or treat you bad
You just brush them out of your life.

Family, you acquire at birth,
Given freely without choice
Whatever they do you can’t get rid of them
They are stuck to you like superglue
The more you try to get away,
The more they prove that they are here to stay

Friends can be closer than family because you chose them,
You choose ones whose vibes run parallel to yours
You study each other and share their pain
And each knows the ties are by choice and therefore respect them

Family can have opposite and clashing characters
Like boiling water they scrape you raw,
But you can’t get away from them.

Family who love you do so unconditionally
They ask of nothing but care about you
If you have a loving family you are blessed
But if yours is a hateful one, them I’m sorry, you are
cursed

I leave it for you so see
that sometimes things that are given for free
may be a burden rather than a gain
But whatever be the case
I love my family and wouldn’t want to change.

A MOTHERS TOUCH

                                                    Photo by Annie Spratt on Unsplash

 
In the village compound which was cleanly swept and tidy,

A compound not easily accessible by road,

A group of old women sat huddled together.

Sticks and pipes jutted out of their mouths which occasionally moved in unison.

A sigh here and a look to the sky there.

Some sat with their chins in their palms, a look of sadness about them, they spoke:

"This is the time that I should be with my sons and their wives,

with my daughters, and their husbands.

My children should be looking after me now,

After all the blood, sweat and tears that I shed for many days and nights

In their time of illness, their time of pain, their time of sorrow.

"I felt pain when they were born,

But it was such sweet pain when I looked into the faces of the new life that I had borne,

I felt joy when they were growing up and happiness when they became adults,

I felt pain when they left home to set up their new lives but joy when they came to visit,

Sitting and laughing while they enjoyed their mother's cooking,

I felt pain when they were going through difficulties,

But joy when they overcame their hurdles.

"Now I sit alone, some stranger, a prophet, in the name of religion,

Put their struggles and problems on my head –

"Your mother is a witch, she wants to destroy you"

Just because I am old, a widow, helpless and defenseless,

Just because my poverty and suffering is drawn on my face

I am the scourge of my village.

Would I destroy my life?

Life that came out of me?

I may have lost my youth but not my mind.

"Now I don't see my children,

I don't know some of my grandchildren,

My husband's family don't remember me.

There is a pain that never goes,

It just stays there in the heart, in the womb, and gradually eats away at life itself

- Oh the pain. "When I die it will be too late for anyone to say "I am sorry,

" But I continue to love my children,

I continue to feel them in my arms,

I continue to see their laughter and joy,

I continue to live for the day when I would be called "Maame" again - Aye! The pain.

"Old men don't get called witches,

They just marry younger women and continue with life.

What is it that women do wrong in their lives?

Maybe they love and care too much,

Maybe they sacrifice too much, feel too much." One day, someone somewhere will weep,

Because they can no longer get back that mother's touch,

That mother's love,

That mother's smile - oh the pain!.

Joy

It is such a joy to be alive
to be able to see the smiles and laughter of those around you
to know that you are alive
and have love around you

It is such a joy to have friends and family who love you
who miss you and care about you
it is such a joy to be able to say thinks and have gratitude for all that you have
what a joy to be alive.

Thank You