Did You Like that Poem?

Nuna sorry note0001

I remember, as if it were yesterday, how my Enlgish teacher extracted a handkerchief from her bag before reading the words
“The boy stood on the burning deck
Where all but he had fled” (Casabianca by Mrs Felicia Dorothea Hermans) She confessed that this poem always made her cry. I found poetry very evocative at that time too.
“Down the ribbon of moonlight, over the brow of the hill
The Highwayman came riding, riding, riding!
The red-coats looked to their priming …” The Highwayman by Alfred Noyes had me riding in my imagination with the Highwayman having anticipated the terrible denouement of the poem.
“Goblin Market” by Christina Rossetti evoked the most phantasmagoric images in my mind.
I liked it when we “did” poetry because even then I realized its’ appreciation required both intellect and emotion.

In my children’s gneration great emphasis was laid on getting children to write poetry. The following poem was written by my eldest son aged eleven. It doesn’t have a title.

I toil and I toil to get it ready
At last it is ready and I go back for tea
Later that day I go back to see if it has survived
And I see the greedy sea has taken away my sand city
Washed it completely away
Just leaving a desolate beach
And I walk back sadly
thinking about my sand city.

The next two poems were written by my daughter when she was ten.

The Sea Shells

The Shells I like are all over the land
Oh! so elegant and so grand
Smooth, spikey, hollow and bumpy
I’m so happy no one should be grumpy.

Rainbows inside the mothers of pearls,
Some shells have got the most amazing twirls.
Sandy ones pulled up at night.

I like shells
They don’t have any smells –
Because their washed clean
By the friendly waters.

Another of the many poems she wrote is
A Travelling Child

Everywhere people stared,
Looking at our tattered clothes.
No one seems to like us much,
We stopped in front of a big house
The people said you awful people

The next day when I went to school,
The children there called me names,
Like, you are nasty and very cruel.
As I was walking home,
Three girls came by and took me there.

Now we know that gypsies are not welcome
In and about other peoples’ homes
Only a few children like us here
And let us play their games.
Its’ hard being a gypsy you know!

My youngest son made up many poems and he also painted and drew a lot. He wrote this poem about a bee when he was eight.

The Humble Bee

Through the garden
While the summer sun
Beats down
on your coat
of golden Brown.

All day long
you come and go
Where the shining
Blossoms blow,
sipping every sweet
you see
Rumble, tumble
Humble bee!

I like the directness, freshness and observations the children made. The poem about the sand city certainly shows an understanding of the transcience of the material world.

I don’t often write poetry. The following poem came to me after seeing a young man who perhaps had full blown AIDS begging on the Tube in London.


He appeared on the Tube Train as if apported from the Land of Death

A pale, shaven-headed cadaver, veins knotted,sinewy, silted , stagnant rivers

“I’m sorry to bother you” he said sofltly, well-spoken “but…….”

A skeletal hand mechanically brings a paper cup into eyeline sight

Rustling in pockets and purses confirms our recognition of Death

We do our best to alleviate his one way journey

Following the beckoning hand of Death.

Dzagbe Cudjoe



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2 Responses to “Did You Like that Poem?”

  1. Marinela Says:

    Nice poems,I enjoyed reading them 🙂

  2. ghanaiangrandmother Says:

    Thank you very much Marinela. I’ve enjoyed visiting your poetry site.

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