~I
FEEL FOR YOU MAMA~
Has the aroma of the unfinished bread
Put you to sleep?
Has the firewood burn out into ashes?
What about the charcoal?
I wonder if you could ever bake your own bread
And share equally among your offspring.
Wake up Mama and look at me hungry in rags.
Have the mercy and utilize
What my bastard dad left me.
Don’t be fooled by friends
For they might not be as fortunate as you
So would want you to be in same level as them.
The oven has gone cold-
Yet we need to bake.
Why can’t you make up your mind
And change the faulty ovens?
But would always want to give it
Another try while you know in your hearts,
The ovens cannot bake the bread of development;
Of which your children are waiting
To feast upon with a hungry relish.
Who is brain washing you Mama,
That the oven is doing well?
Have you forgotten your words that;
If a mother knows the use of her breast milk
Her children may never suffer?
I weep for you Mama
Because being so rich, yet you lack
The eyes to look around and see.
Always that naive slut
Hovering
about potbellied men
With briefcases making news in town
Yet we still have less to depend on
Because you strike poor bargains
Before every shag.
You give in too much
And always left with little to care for.
I cry for you, instead of myself.
I pity you mother
Cause I’m been scorn by strangers
For your acts-they entirely mistake me for an
animal!
Even though Odomankoma has built me to last.
They call me names
But yes! I bear with those fools somewhat!
Because my mother upon all the oil she has
And all the left over minerals
My bastard father left us
Has no clue of how to bake her own bread with.
But I will keep on crying, changing pitch
Till you hear me out and act.
For it is only when the mouth has got enough to
chew
That some spreads into the beard.
---Fampah Coyish---
© By Fampah Coyish-Awoken By Poems 2014
