By Tikum Mbah Azonga
I didn’t wet the bed
No, I didn’t, I bet you
I just did the pie chart thing
I did it to map out my country
But it came out as Africa
But I did it, remember?
Surely that isn’t bed wetting, is it?
I didn’t pool it with Ted
I don’t believe in tango for two
But I’m wary of the wasp’s sting
That’s why for the right circumference to comply
One must junket from Luanda to Lusaka to Pretoria and Accra
Must you be a member?
Well, those who live will know it.
Copyright
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est TIKUM MBAH AZONGA POEMS ON FAMILY LIFE. Afficher tous les articles
Affichage des articles dont le libellé est TIKUM MBAH AZONGA POEMS ON FAMILY LIFE. Afficher tous les articles
mardi 21 juin 2011
mardi 12 avril 2011
HOLD YOUR HORSES
Let`s not talk about it now
Let`s leave it for the evening before
When you hear the Queen Mother vow
Then wheel out all the pregnant girls to the fore.
Copyright 2011
dimanche 27 mars 2011
THE SKEWED RESULTS
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
Couldn`t you find the data?
Or was your methodology flawed?
But when it comes to payments pro rata
You wobble as if you had been gored.
Copyright 2011
Couldn`t you find the data?
Or was your methodology flawed?
But when it comes to payments pro rata
You wobble as if you had been gored.
Copyright 2011
jeudi 6 janvier 2011
THE ROYAL RECIPE
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
It`s not cognac
Neither is it a Big Mac
It`s water fufu and eru
Topped up with kata and fufu corn.
Copyright 2011
It`s not cognac
Neither is it a Big Mac
It`s water fufu and eru
Topped up with kata and fufu corn.
Copyright 2011
mercredi 5 janvier 2011
CATALYSTS FOR WIVES
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
He knows his fate
So save your breath for your porridge
The day we become hoofed ring leaders
Our wives will all run to the shopkeepers.
Copyright 2010
He knows his fate
So save your breath for your porridge
The day we become hoofed ring leaders
Our wives will all run to the shopkeepers.
Copyright 2010
scarecrow with a hoe
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
It was his word against ours
Forget about the maimed scarecrow
That`s why when mother sent for her hoe
We knew we`d starve for hours.
Copyright 2010
It was his word against ours
Forget about the maimed scarecrow
That`s why when mother sent for her hoe
We knew we`d starve for hours.
Copyright 2010
HEARING AMONG OARS
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
For all sons and daughters of Bota Island
The oars are all roaring
Like the angry waves of Bota Island
When fishermen start to band
Who`ll seek the red herring?
Copyright 2011
For all sons and daughters of Bota Island
The oars are all roaring
Like the angry waves of Bota Island
When fishermen start to band
Who`ll seek the red herring?
Copyright 2011
vendredi 31 décembre 2010
IN BED WITH AWAN ANGOB`S CAT
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
This is Awan`s cat
The new one with sparkling eyes
Not the black one that got missing
Tonight I`ll climb on Awan`s plank bed
Call up the cat
And together we`ll pull up the old blanket
And play hide and seek
Then while Pussie purrs in her sleep
I will listen attentively
So that when Awan awakes
I`ll tell her everything.
Copyright 2010
This is Awan`s cat
The new one with sparkling eyes
Not the black one that got missing
Tonight I`ll climb on Awan`s plank bed
Call up the cat
And together we`ll pull up the old blanket
And play hide and seek
Then while Pussie purrs in her sleep
I will listen attentively
So that when Awan awakes
I`ll tell her everything.
Copyright 2010
ODD MESSAGES FROM ARABIA
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
My old man spoke first
But his speech was a heap of stones
The the Holy One coughed
And his cough was perfumed air from Arabia.
Copyright 2010
My old man spoke first
But his speech was a heap of stones
The the Holy One coughed
And his cough was perfumed air from Arabia.
Copyright 2010
vendredi 12 novembre 2010
THE LONE TRAVELLER
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
She came by herself
Unescorted
If you were expecting the baby nurse
You`d have to wait for ever.
Copyright 2010
She came by herself
Unescorted
If you were expecting the baby nurse
You`d have to wait for ever.
Copyright 2010
jeudi 11 novembre 2010
THE LEAVE OF ABSENCE
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
If you`re sure
Let her http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifgo
But if in the end she becomes a foe
Then be sure your son will wear a tonsure.
Copyright 20410
http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
If you`re sure
Let her http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifgo
But if in the end she becomes a foe
Then be sure your son will wear a tonsure.
Copyright 20410
LATER DAY DOGS
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
I cashed in on it
Why shouldn`t I have?
I too had been taken for a ride
That`s why I pulled down the blinds
So, today here where the Lilly birds sing without dancing
If another black dog passes by
We shoot it down
If no one else does
I will.
Copyright 2010
I cashed in on it
Why shouldn`t I have?
I too had been taken for a ride
That`s why I pulled down the blinds
So, today here where the Lilly birds sing without dancing
If another black dog passes by
We shoot it down
If no one else does
I will.
Copyright 2010
WE AND OUR WIVES
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
We`re all in the cradle
Even the vice chancellor
So when the thunder birds reel
Our united wives will lift their velvet skirts and latter.
Copyright 2010
We`re all in the cradle
Even the vice chancellor
So when the thunder birds reel
Our united wives will lift their velvet skirts and latter.
Copyright 2010
mardi 9 novembre 2010
MY EARLY DAYS
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
Saturdays as days are too sullen
And Sundays too chaste
So when next I rise
I`ll smack down your curious chronic dress.
Copyright 2010
Saturdays as days are too sullen
And Sundays too chaste
So when next I rise
I`ll smack down your curious chronic dress.
Copyright 2010
dimanche 31 octobre 2010
WHY WORRY?
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
The programme is known
So, why do you pretend?
If you aren`t full blown
Then why must you extend?
Copyright 2010
The programme is known
So, why do you pretend?
If you aren`t full blown
Then why must you extend?
Copyright 2010
vendredi 29 octobre 2010
GRAND MA`S LETTER TO AMERICA
Par Tikum Mbah Azonga
(For Awan Sarah Angob Mbaku née Nkumulung)
The boiling kettle is not a threat
Although it may hiss like a snake
And Awan knows that only too well
The kettle has hissed here in her house for years
It`s like Stephenson`s locomotive
Only it does not have the wheels
But who cares?
As long as it keeps Awan`s friends-for-ever-cats awake
So that they don`t snore in their sleep
Like the drunken sleepers in Chaucer`s prologue.
Who really cares?
Is it Abu Re Fotsoh who shares a name with Mary the mother of Jesus?
Is it Engonwei Neg
Or Ni Victor who jovially calls everybody, “Officer”?
Or Ma Esther who brings goodies such as elephant meat from the coast?
Or Ma Eli the great internationalist and peace maker born ahead of her time?
Or Ni John the successor who went on early retirement?
This immobile steam engine is a curiosity for us kids
That`s why we throng to Awan`s house when we hear
The kettle is on the fire
After getting Engoh to make tea for us
With water from the boiling black kettle
Awan lights her long pipe
And inserting it in her mouth, she begins to pull and puff
Then she returns round and asks: "What child is out there?
I want someone to came and write a book
For that my Fri in the Whiteman`s land
Is Azongho there? Ask him to bring paper and pen.
Then Awan begins to dictate her letter
This is now outside in the yard, under the coffee and banana trees
She on her stool and I the secretary on the large compound stone
"Tell Fri that I saw my bundle she sent
Tell her I thank her for it
Tell her I am greeting her
Tell her I want her to answer so that I hear her voice from here
I want to hear her answer me
Tell her that I saw the gown she sent
Ask her that is the Whiteman`s country so nice
Or why does she look so much fresher and younger and beautiful
But tell her she must not come back with a white man
Those people have money, yes
But their ways are not our ways
If he comes her, will he eat achu like us?
Will he go to the farm?
Tell my daughter that I am fine, I am doing well
But that is for today
Only God knows what he has in store for tomorrow
Tell her I do not know whether she will still meet me alive
When she returns in five years
But let`s put everything in God`s hands.
Tell her I salute her
Everybody here salutes her
And tell her I love her.”
Copyright 2010
(For Awan Sarah Angob Mbaku née Nkumulung)
The boiling kettle is not a threat
Although it may hiss like a snake
And Awan knows that only too well
The kettle has hissed here in her house for years
It`s like Stephenson`s locomotive
Only it does not have the wheels
But who cares?
As long as it keeps Awan`s friends-for-ever-cats awake
So that they don`t snore in their sleep
Like the drunken sleepers in Chaucer`s prologue.
Who really cares?
Is it Abu Re Fotsoh who shares a name with Mary the mother of Jesus?
Is it Engonwei Neg
Or Ni Victor who jovially calls everybody, “Officer”?
Or Ma Esther who brings goodies such as elephant meat from the coast?
Or Ma Eli the great internationalist and peace maker born ahead of her time?
Or Ni John the successor who went on early retirement?
This immobile steam engine is a curiosity for us kids
That`s why we throng to Awan`s house when we hear
The kettle is on the fire
After getting Engoh to make tea for us
With water from the boiling black kettle
Awan lights her long pipe
And inserting it in her mouth, she begins to pull and puff
Then she returns round and asks: "What child is out there?
I want someone to came and write a book
For that my Fri in the Whiteman`s land
Is Azongho there? Ask him to bring paper and pen.
Then Awan begins to dictate her letter
This is now outside in the yard, under the coffee and banana trees
She on her stool and I the secretary on the large compound stone
"Tell Fri that I saw my bundle she sent
Tell her I thank her for it
Tell her I am greeting her
Tell her I want her to answer so that I hear her voice from here
I want to hear her answer me
Tell her that I saw the gown she sent
Ask her that is the Whiteman`s country so nice
Or why does she look so much fresher and younger and beautiful
But tell her she must not come back with a white man
Those people have money, yes
But their ways are not our ways
If he comes her, will he eat achu like us?
Will he go to the farm?
Tell my daughter that I am fine, I am doing well
But that is for today
Only God knows what he has in store for tomorrow
Tell her I do not know whether she will still meet me alive
When she returns in five years
But let`s put everything in God`s hands.
Tell her I salute her
Everybody here salutes her
And tell her I love her.”
Copyright 2010
MUM`S CLAY POTS
By Tikum Mbah Azonga
My mother made clay pots
With mud from Formenjuh`s place
She made them full of grace
And made sure she removed all the dots
On market days we carried them on our heads
Then arrayed them on the earth for all to see
The crowd puller they were
None returned home.
Copyright 2010
My mother made clay pots
With mud from Formenjuh`s place
She made them full of grace
And made sure she removed all the dots
On market days we carried them on our heads
Then arrayed them on the earth for all to see
The crowd puller they were
None returned home.
Copyright 2010
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