Tuesday, 26 June 2012


Ivory horn of Africa
From which wine is served
To young and old, has become a commoner
In the city of her ancestors
She has deserted the land of her birth
Enroute a path, unknown to her folks
Destructive, o route, misleading.

Listen!!! O people of the world, of Africa
Children sit helplessly till sun sets and moon emerges
Children, living within tired bodies
Who shall overturn this curse?

Africa must not die like the hero who dies in battle.

Africa is the epitome of Beauty
beauty with a name, nature exemplified
The place of peace and freedom,
Freedom to explore possibilities,
Possibilities so divine.

Let the weak arise!
Let the strong hold them up!!
Let every piece be picked up; every worn heart!!!
Every man his own
Let us rise again
Our flag must not go down.

Copyright (C) 2012

First published at http://www.poetryfoundationghana.org/index.php/theme/social-poems/item/123-ivory-horn-of-africa
*Some lines have been edited with my permission


Days come and nights go, 
I roam the streets in search
Of whom to greet and shower my love upon
My face now wretched, I hide in regret
More engulfed in this dilemma than Ananse in his web
In the shallows of your heart.
News travel of me – they say ‘your lover is mad’ and you bother not.
Instead of paying for your hairdo, I am the poor fellow carrying that weird look
Torn skirts my roofless shelter amidst the tease
Spending and straining their muscles to call; them passers-by and your friends
‘The wild pet’, as wages I receive mockery.
Araba, to you my all gave and you left me to fall...
Araba, to you my time gave and you left me no dime...
Araba, to you my love gave and you returned me a hard shove...
Araba, I need an answer...
What excuse shall I give God for this decision to depart the face of living mortals?
Till then
Your love, Kofi. (##ontopofSilverStarTowerBuilding##)

Copyright (C) 2012


I see hope in that street child, a young lad
To whom all seems bad
Whose life devoid of hope
Without a future, to gain
To him, life seem but a restraint
Nothing but white and black, good and evil
But, I see in him that glimmer of hope.

Once beautiful eyes, now tortured by poverty and his broken home
clothes tattered, bare legs kiss the earth all-day
Walking on weak limbs, I see his day ahead bright
A brighter morning, a new day
When the sun will greet his burned face and
The breeze will blow anew his skin
This hope greater than despair, I see.

I see him walk past the limits of his predecessors
Past the regions of hopelessness
Into a new future, we hold-
Blazing torch of opportunities
Today, the street child makes his mansion under a bridge
Tomorrow, he leads the team that constructs bridges-
And all these would have been simply history.

Copyright (C) 2012