Biography of Akua Achampong
I've written these poems at different times. I wrote the first 'The Station' at 13. It was a homework assignment, for drama i think, depicting a metaphor for the transition from youth to old age and death, then the others were written over a few years. The poems aren't always a reflection of what i'm feeling, maybe its a film i've watched, a lyric or quote i've read or a conversation i've over heard that sets me off. I read some of these poems and laugh because i have no idea what i was thinking when i wrote them and some of them are just plain embarrassing, but i've stopped myself from deleting them like i used to. They show parts of me that sometimes i'd prefer people not to see which makes me feel quite vulnerable but i am proud of some of them. I'm currently studyin Psychology, Sociology, History and Politics, and hope to get into Journalism or writing.
if you have any questions just message me. xx
Akua Achampong Poems
In Love With Love
Here sits a boy so in love with this girl, But he won't say a word cause it sets him in a whirl. And it won't stop spinning untill he can find some rest, reassurance or peace of mind,
Ten- Time is ticking way too fast Nine- Nothings ever meant to last Eight- Everything you knew this year Seven- soon enough will disappear
Drunkenly In Love
Bit to drink but not drunk, Not in love with life...but think i am with you. Don't know what love is, hasn't sunk In deep enough for me to fall through
Comfortable In My Skin...Not So Much In ...
I walked a mile in your boots, But they weren't for me. They blistered my feet and made them bleed.
A thick gauze surrounds me now, it hums with me. Its so suffocating i can hardly breathe. it slides up my top and caresses my chest, it plays on my skin and soaks my vest.
It's on the first step that I fumble, Easing my way down. It's on the second step that I stumble, Calmly hiding my frown.
What is left for me to do? My heart torn, feeling bloody blue. There no sun to light my sky... No moonlight to bring in my tide.
Death Of The Budding Flower
Plant my seed and plant it deep, Push it through the dirt. ill germinate and fix my roots Deep within the earth.
Hook your foot in and begin to climb, Sercure your footing, you don't have time. Keep climbing and try not to fall...
My Little Box
I'm trapped and i can't move... These four walls of my little box are too hard to break through. I can't do it anymore; My walls are moving in and my hearts too sore.
I love the way you make me smile without needing to try, i love the way you make a horrible day float happily by. But i can't notice or seem to care when you look at me. i might smile, frown, even snare or be beside myself with glee.
When you miss him so much that it burns in your chest, Ripping the days off your calender, Counting down till when you'll see him next.
Fickle Little Thing
Feelings can change as seasons do Sometimes hot or cold. Each different and new. But will I feel the same about you in a few months
I stop at the station, I stand, I wait. But time keeps ticking and its getting late.
Fickle Little Thing
Feelings can change as seasons do
Sometimes hot or cold.
Each different and new.
But will I feel the same about you in a few months
Who’s to tell?
Cause my hearts heavy
And it’s beginning to swell
And I know I won’t bear or take the pain- when it stops beating