For a while the street had no smile on its brown cheek
nor a horn or vuvuzela of which to speak.
Hearts wore everything but a humming.
Who is gonna love our women, when all they need is loving?
Who is gonna tell the belly that the food sits starving
or the throat that the palmwine needs gulping?
But the sky is purple
the ball is marble
the water is stone
we who love soccer, with every bone.
Then the wind blew,
the ball took a fondle from a breast
a kick, a header, a shoulder
or was it a chest?
A smack and it's a goal!! Goo...al!!!
Oluwaaaaa...
The sky is blue
a birdie coos
the water is a river and our women moan
a kiss, a fondle, a black star shone.
"A Black Star Shone" is part six of our impromptu tribute series to the Black Stars. Though the Black Stars' run is now over, we will keep posting new poems until July 9th. If you would like to contribute a tribute poem, send it to oneghanaonevoice(at)gmail.com.
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