Nneka - Kangpe

Pregnant Eyes

Poetry303-001

Prof. Gregory Pardlo

May 12^th, 2009

Pregnant Eyes

I can’t believe this woman

Yall real hard headed

No compassion fuh people eh.

I tell yah me brother dead

And I need lil money to help with the burial

And all you could do is give me

Hundred dallah

Hundred dallah

A should neva bring yall here

Give yall opportunity

Fuh yall turn round and spit pun me.

Shouldah left yah ass to rot in that mud village.

Is who feed and clothed

you and yah children eh,

as fuh them I don’t know what parenting you did

They ain’t got no manners

none what so ever,

the lil one just like you.

Hot headed and rude

and the older one

Well

me and know who she belong to

You must be put ma name on somebody else pickni

Just a lil small piece fuh help bury me buddy

And all you could fork out yah pocket

Is hundred dallah

Hundred dallah

Good for nothing woman

See when I come back hey

Mek sure you and yah children gone

Pack yuh Georgy bundle

And clear yah rass out!

Rebels of Earth and Sky.

Prof. Latasha Diggs

Sonnet – Pleasures of Sex

Nov 1^st, 2010

Task : Omitting the use of the letter eand using fruits instead of sexual signal phrases etc

Rebels of Earth and Sky.

Round jumbo sapodillas form imprints in silky hollows

kiss midnight's air with bold provocation, Kintu walks

across a charcoal plum canvas to find Nambi’s mangos shadows

summoning the moons luminous glow, and crafting locks

in Kintu’s honor.  Join sun worship psidiums into raw solution

moonlight coats dual lust of exploding sour sops pouring

thick spurs of mandarin passion upon onyx stain infusion.

Plantain drowns in silky sapota liquids, rhythms soaring

sky high like sinful imprints stomping on archaic concoction.

Ning Ning simah Ohi, Ning Ning simah Ohi, Ning Ning simah Ohi

Ohi simah Ning Ning, Ohi simah Ning Ning, Ohi simah Ning Ning

Ohi Ohi, Ning Ning, Ohi Ohi, Ning Ning,  Ohi Ohi Ning Nambiiiiiiiii

The Carrions Dance

Calla lilies, Orchids, Peonies,

Crystal encrusted napkin rings

Pensive Italian haunting grannies

commenting on forgotten things

like the vacant space reserved

for the father of an absent bride

weeping mothers with curved

brows, encroaching on caged pride.

But lovers bare their chest

in spite of the weary eyes

protecting their sable nest

in light of our present guise

Calla lilies, Orchids, Peonies

pensive Italian haunting grannies.

So this poem was based on a photograph...an interpretation of that photograph...I'll try an upload the actual photo...but i think it would be best to see it first without. as not to bias the perspective.
Appreciate the feedback...if any

Humanities: Spoken Word/ Afri American; The Triolet

Cries From the Tombs of Haiti

I looked to our rising hills and
saw great soldiers marching in
heaving dead on their crystal bones and
i looked to our rising hills and
feared lord had forsaken the living and
as time faintly died in the morning
I looked to our rising hills and
saw great soldiers marching in.


No more Whiplash For Haiti

rain, wind, wash, splash
mother nature with another whiplash
folding and molding, loud crash!
Rain, wind, wash, splash
lonely infant vacant calabash
homes swallowed in a mishap
rain, wind, wash, splash
mother nature with another whiplash.



Masquerade

Humans in gesticulation
incarnate colonial slumber.
Through robotic fixation
humans in gesticulation
throw doubloons with blind caution,
transcending plantation order
humans in gesticulation
incarnate colonial slumber.



A Libation at the Bayou.

God sent a baptism to unearth
the captured souls of the bayou.
Weeping mortals seeking worth
God sent a baptism to unearth
structures of fallacious mirth.
Shackled blood can now bid adieu
God sent a baptism to unearth
the captured souls of the bayou.



From a Condors Vantage Point

Aging flesh of the dead
collide with fierce cries of the living.
Green giants behead
aging flesh of the dead.
Water and land spread
with threatening doom upon the living
Aging flesh of the dead
collide with fierce cries of the living.



Wailing Santiago

Do you hear the Copihue?
Do you hear the Copihue?
Her crimson flesh decays,
do you hear the Copihue
Her solemn neck hangs lower today
for the children of Chile.
Do you hear the Copihue?
Do you hear the Copihue?


By far my most difficult traditional verse...because of the restriction and also the instructed format that was necessary to follow.
But i can see some growth in my writing and that's a plus! (?)