To my Ancestors

my silence
salutes the tall Dreams of the Dead
who withdrew from here
to roam over fine mountains and
frighten hawks reshaping my dreams

sometime the sound and throbs of their breath
is a rage of blood in eons of anger with stones and axes

at times they come as Fumes of Smoke
on a Dark Noon to take me across rivers of Solitude

but
I sometimes wonder if
while tip-toeing in the fog of foreign suits
we have not lost sight of the ancestors' humorous
laughs at the steps we place in the quicksand
and call ourselves special names

sometimes I stroll
around the roundabout of my memory
when carving affections for my dead soul
in unforgettable words
like a master-butcher who picks-up the axe and
dismembers parts of goat-meat that tastes so good
and says, tonight there will be another party
with champagnes in place of palm wine

I have grown sick of songs of sorrow
I want to cross the rivers of solitude
sing new songs of joy
celebrate the past and present
and sing and dance in gratitude for life at Home

but
will my ancestors be accustomed to forgiving me
every day for the loss of my Soul
the Soul lost in the fog of foreign suits

Padmore Agbemabiese: I Appreciate Your Kindness

Padmore Agbemabiese: I Appreciate Your Kindness

SOMETIMES, I CRY

I first saw you in the woods
at noontime—unwrapping the pain
head forward folding back the tears

as a passerby I nodded and went on
only to tell the story each time
on village lanes with my lithe leg pleading
when I too came into the woods

sometimes, I cry
when I see proud, skeptical minds
trained by the heights of the Ivory Staff
to bake souls on the road to the Ivory Tower

POSIT-ITS OF LOVE

helplessly yours;
I’m devoted to you after tasting your kiss; truly,
I’m lovingly yours with an eye on that elegance
kissing your smile and making my day;
please savor this while falling asleep;
I’m dreaming of you and missing your arms;
so, holding onto feelings that’s true as days are cherished;
my heart is never alone, you’re always on my mind;
is your heart on loan, it’s like drifting away;
dear, let’s bring back old memories with bliss
where with just your kiss I shiver through the body;
choking on words and screaming for your mercy
I am your love and all
till the waters in the Ocean run dry

Her Journey Just Begun

don't think of Adzoa as gone
her journey has just begun
life holds many facets and the Earth is only one
therefore, think of her as resting
from the sorrows and the tears
in a place of warmth and comfort
where there are no days nor years

think how she must be wishing
that we know, life brings tears, smiles and memories
and though our tears may dry, and our smile fade
it is only our memories that live on forever

so we must think of her as living,
living in the hearts of those she touched
for nothing loved is ever lost-
and she was loved so much

so, don’t stand by and grieve and weep
she is not here nor dead
she is the thousand winds that blow in the veldt
she is the diamond glints on the snow
the sunlight on ripened grain
she is the soft refreshing rain
that falls on a hot summer afternoon
and when we awake in the morning's hush
she is the swift uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight
she is the star that shines at night
to bring you a smile that none can steal
when death leaves a heartache no one can heal

For a Friend

seeing the sun rise with glow this morn
its rays dancing among the leaves in the grove
I saw my tears dry like dew on village lanes
and for once, I found again the lost smile
that was missing for a long time ago

seeing the moon with the choir this night
this heart holds hope like a rock
to see this old heartache in love's cradle again
maybe I no longer will cry at night
as if all my dearest friends are gone

I Appreciate Your Kindness

thank you is not enough
to tell you my deep feelings
about your thoughtfulness and the gift of love
but in the absence of the right word

let this note thank you and say
the memory of your thoughtfulness
will be remembered
for many days and many nights
till this Breath leaves for Home

by your gift of love
I have come to know
you are a person who makes life easier and better
for everyone around you
your continual acts of thoughtfulness and kindness
and love brightens each day of my life
and what you did for me

will glow in my memory
reviving pleasant feelings every time I think about it
and should I not tell you in person
how much you mean to me
let this note tell it now, I appreciate your kindness
and thank you forever for the gift of love
that has made a difference in my life

ON LEAVING

often, sorrow streams from our hearts,
flooding the roads of yester days and future days
when those close to our hearts are lost
along the path we thread

even, years thereafter,
puddles of sorrow gather
between the dry spaces of our memories

such sorrow gushes upward into the night
and touches the mountain of belief
that looms high, strong, and majestic
upon the peak of belief, near the clouds,

it is there
that memories and spirit meet
to peek at the stars, to see the moon,
and to face the day of hope
the day when the beautiful song of poetry
capitulate or conspire with the task of our weeping
to render or bring together
bouquets of gestures
of quiet but fertile abundant lush
of fragrance of honor
of what we have all the year long

JUST SAYING, THANKS

thanks for being strength in my weakness
thanks for being hope in my despair
and mores, thanks for being there

when light walks away from the forest
and along the long lonely snaking road
are cascading pike-peak thorns
they hurt the foot at where none can care
when all you can hear are crickets singing their dirges
when we call for ululation to heal the hurts
I hear your gentle voice saying:
here I am, love is all I can give

when the sun rises as it usually does,
and the cock crows at the hour it can;
when the apostolic minister rings the church bells
and the congregation begins to sing the 'martins',
hear it again, it's me saying once again,
thanks for all the love

SHOULD YOU FIND HER

if some time someone should find these Beads
threaded on a innocent string of silk
along pathways of village lanes
let him know — they are Pearls — they lit up
the face of a young-old Heart

I'm sending my Pearls
on the wings of the Wind
like scents of blooming lilies carried on air
let her wear them; they belong to her
like life's own path like elks in hunting season

tell her gently
our paths are hidden fields of force
that call us home
when we can no longer bear to be alone

and between the hours of the day
somewhere in the fog
we will sing a welcome song—