Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah Poems
|2.||When The Sun Turns Red||12/5/2013|
|3.||Two Haiku: For The North Africa||12/5/2013|
|6.||Serving As A Bridegroom||12/5/2013|
|15.||Waiting To Celebrate||12/5/2013|
|16.||From The Cold To The Warmth||12/5/2013|
|19.||Letter To Dr Mk Lee||12/5/2013|
|21.||Spanish Civil War (1936-1939)||12/5/2013|
Comments about Jacob Kobina Ayiah Mensah
You were not here but you heard it,
You heard the water, boiling over the hilltops,
Roaring in your ears, far deep in sleep,
Because, the windows of this house were opened.
But, it is still raining here than before;
And if I look, through this open window,
Through the rain, I can see how River Limpopo
Is growing larger and fatter, and what I see again
Is more than those established roots of the past
And individuals who are living
In their own time in the waters,
The waters are streaming
From another form of the mangroves,
Growing in the white clay,...
No Stalins. No Mussolinis. No Marxist heads,
or Nietzsche's heads, or Luther's heads.
No masks. No fancy dressing.
No placards. No banners. No graffiti.
It's just a little world in your bed to ride on!
Its streets are bare and open to guesswork!
Its streets are glued with superheroes' footprints.
Tuesday night in the house of a latter-day Noah.