OH GHANA, MY BELOVED
Mother Ghana feels
Warm, cozy and horny,
On her neck, rests a hand,
Luring and taunting her
Touching her heels.
He rests his hand
On her sexy thighs
A searching touch and
A hitched fishy brand
Full of ecstasy and awe .
One hand tracing down her spine,
Cascading chills on her body,
Thrown on where his fingers once, were on,
The other hand stuck in her hair, sworn,
Stroking and smooching
So gently,
Leaving her ignorant LIPS wide open awaiting HIS.
Then her lips embraces his,
Their tongues, dancing, a long persuaded bond,
A mouthful of a pleasurable desire,
Devouring, depleting and
Exhausting her with each
Slow, romantic poisonous kiss.
His nails claw her sweating bark
His fingers creating a feeling of everlasting love,
Printing an agonizing pleasure, and
She remains his betrothed slave,
She crawls blindly into his nape of aid.
His smouldering lips caresses her ear,
A stroke on her NIPPLE here and there.
"OH GOD" my Ghana why?
She whippers through the moan,
An epileptic orgasmic roar,
Through her enchanted veins, and
Ghana succumbing to his ravenous touch,
Producing a puddle of lust,
Allowing him to siphon her every part with guts.
All said and done
Sitting in insatiable silence,
Awaiting the feelings in between her legs to return,
She'll taste the bitter pill
Raw and vaguely empty,
She'll drown in a feeling
Once resembling lust,
Fraud, loneliness and recolonization,
Oh why, my Ghana why, Ghana oh
My Ghana, why?
Don't fall for his lustful talks,
Like a call girl who thinks nothing but money,
Instead of her health along as her wealth.
Protect your dignity with impunity,
And love your self as does a dove with divinity.
Oh Ghana, my beloved.
Written by:
Gladys Alasid Mbilla
0556491371
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