A Sampling of Poems by Yamoransa Students

Here are a few of the poems written by my students in Yamoransa during our week of classes in August, 2016:

Green walls
black cardboard
closed windows and open door
different kinds of books
—Charlotte Aidoo

Yellow color
Pointed mouth
Wooden body
Red eraser
—Francis Awotwe

I am like education
always hoping for the best
I replace an empty mind
with an open one
I challenge blockheaded people
I never give up in life.
—Jacob Owusu

I am like gold
I can shine for everybody
I cannot break
I can help the one who needs me
No one can stop me from shining
—Matilda  Ekuwa Acheampong

If I were water
I would always be pure
and good for drinking
I would be mineral water
—Prosper Mensah

If I were a president
I would always rule the nation
good and give the nation anything
they need and make sure
there is peace and stability
—Prosper Mensah

If I were a bird
I’d fly in the sky
to heaven and I will
be with God everyday
—Edmond Mensah

If I were an animal
I would be a dog
barking to scare the robbers
who try to steal or kill
So that the owner of the house
will know that a robber
has appeared.
—Benedicta Boakye


A light of fire roaming about
A bright clay on a floor
The dress we wear to a funeral ceremony.

A sad day
When you are worried
Thinking about someone else

Red berries blending into juice
drinking hot water
Swallowing toffee

A crisp morning
swimming in a pool to cool your body
A very serious volcano destroying houses

Red can change your life.
—Priscilla Adede Ocansey


The love between a couple
A bright, clear sky in summer
The kindness in a person

Footprints in white clay
The sharing of love
The tenderness of children

Milk added to tea for breakfast
Chewing popcorn
Eating brazed rice

Clouds in the sky
The root of a tree which water penetrates in plant growth
the purity of Jesus Christ

White can bring peace.
—Bonaventure Kumah Munkoh


Yellow is like a mango
Yellow is like a golden cup
Yellow is like a sunflower
Yellow sounds like a bell ringing for lunch
Bananas taste yellow
Yellow makes me feel happy
Yellow makes me smile
Yellow makes me feel like I am in a dream
I love my color yellow.
—Benedicta Boakye

September 11, 2001

September 11, 2001

Yesterdays frustrations recede
as news of crashing
hijacked planes
explode into my kitchen.
I watch as one of New York’s
tallest towers crumbles,
trapping thousands in a massive
tomb of debris,
unable to erase the image
of people jumping
from the building.

The second tower succumbs.

Just two days ago
at 12,000 feet
wind floated across Gibson Lake
mountains coated with fresh snow
dazzled against the cobalt sky
marmots fattened for impending hibernation
sunned themselves on boulders
like vacationers at the beach

Now peace seems so far away,
the world unsafe
as my thoughts scurry
like frightened mice
for a shelter
that doesn’t exist

Linda Keller, 9/11/01

From Comet Dreams, ©2004


Like Frederick the mouse in one of Leo Lionni’s children’s books, I have stored images of beauty. On February 25, my mother died. Her final three weeks were under hospice care in her home. I flew in for a visit and there were some incredible exchanges I will never forget. Yet, I am also haunted by images of her deterioration and helplessness.

Now, my cat of fifteen years is severely diminished and approaching death. The tears are back, a mix of this double grief. I remember holding my mom’s hand, saying my last goodbye, before heading to the airport. I said she would live in my heart forever. She said, “I’ll be bouncing around in there.”

Rationally, I know that at almost 92, with a failing body, it was time for my mother to pass on. It does not change the nature of the loss, though I am certain that those who lose loved ones at an earlier age have an element of tragedy that I did not experience.

I can apply the same thinking to my cat. When I adopted her from the Dumb Friends League, she was 4 months old. Although she probably would have preferred to be an outdoor cat, she has had time prowling around the yard under our supervision. She has slept in our bed, and in her older years, stretched out on top of me for naps. This morning, she purred and I drank in the sound, the sound that may soon disappear from my life.


I swim in a sea of tears,
in the deep waters of grief.
There is no tomorrow.
Sifting through the moments,
collecting memories,
the treasures of a life shared.

The gift of love
opening the door to pain wide,
yet what is greater?

Love, the gold we all seek,
that I have been blessed to find.

linda keller
february 19, 2013