Poetry – mr_asante's blog

ODE to a SMITH

By: mr_asante July 19, 2016

PoetryAfrica, African poetry, art, creative writing, Ghana, poetry., spoken word, USA, West Africa10 Comments

Rolling off the tongue, A metamorphosed shtick of pleasure. In and out In and out – it moves with rigorous friction and pressure. A bitter sweet taste of everlasting serenity, Only drowned by the spittle seeping from the lip-side. One might groan and moan from the intense pleasure; Yet is steady as not to release…

Where I come from…

By: mr_asante March 23, 2016March 21, 2018

PoetryAfrica, African poetry, contemporary poetry, creative, creative writing, Ghana, poetry., West Africa22 Comments

I come from a place where good morning means nothing A place where respect is earned Not by Face value But by the lining in my pocket. I come from a place where Dabidabi 3b3y3 yie is the national anthem Sang for some 61 years and yet nothing seems to fathom All I hear is 3nd3 di3…

What Happens At Dawn

By: mr_asante March 10, 2016

Little Musings, narrative, PoetryAfrica, African poetry, art, contemporary poetry, creative, creative writing, Dawn, Ghana, Inspiration, poetry., USA13 Comments

What happens at dawn? Do you not wonder? When sleep shifts from 5th to 3rd. Ignore the 4th For forth comes the lazy 2nd. Till you land on the 1st – gear of sleep The 1st person to wake. Mama Akos. The sound and strength of her short broom against the hard concrete floor. Like…

Eve’s Picasso.

By: mr_asante September 1, 2015September 1, 2015

Poetryart, contemporary poetry, creative, creative writng, Painting, Picasso, poetry.1 Comment

Plastic girls in their plastic world Making men fume with their plastic chord Tis this fakery that binds them all Strangling and struggling In their plastic core Once upon a time, tis cliché When all but her innocence remained She found Picasso’s brush as it lay This – the beginning of a fuss and a…

The Metallic Coffin – Inspired by W.B. Yeats’ “The Second Coming”

By: mr_asante August 28, 2015August 28, 2015

PoetryAfrica, African poetry, art, contemporary poetry, creative writing, thesecondcoming, WBYeats11 Comments

Turning and turning in the shaking trotro The mate cannot hear the passengers Coins fall apart; the polythene bag cannot hold; Mere anarchy is loosed upon the driver. The blood-stained abuse is loosed, and everywhere The innocence of the driver’s mother is drowned; The insults lack conviction, while the worst of the passengers Are full…