MUSTARD SEEDS

Talk less, speak more

Talk more, never

Eat more, more fruits

Fail more-

In doing evil

See more, look less

Sight is free

Learn more, outside school walls

Sow always, Reap always

You are a seed, sow yourself

Ask those who know, be an Oliver

Be yourself

Sing more, sink less

Connect always, never condemn

Connect with the right people

Never write; remain writhed

Write more, of your revolving life

Never hate, haters abound

Save more, spend less

Stay close, remain open

Better late than never

Start small, small is relative

Still, start small

Speak truly; truth is truth

Be a happy fellow

Live freely, die a freer man. 

LETTER AT SUNRISE

Good morning friends

Good morning flowery flames of flourishing fields

Good morning Anases

Mockers tremble when you wake at cockcrow

Good morning to those who were born yesterday

Good morning to those who loved us yesterday

You cause rain to gather in our eyes

Grow and water the earth

In wait for the harvest

Good morning to those whose palms fed the kernel

Our children know of you

That you did not bury the prophecy

The merry songs and dreadful days

Good morning to ordinary men who feed hungry mouths

Though you are despised everywhere

Your name is everywhere

The Potter’s pride

Good morning to suffering souls

When your day comes

Offer your master his last pound of greeting

Then walk out to your freedom which waits at the door

Good morning to those who deserve our greetings

Good morning friends.

Copyright (C) 2015

SHINING LIGHTS

Light shines where it shines

Darkness stripped

Driven across the mountains

Here, no eyes should see blackness

Light shines where it shines

Blackest dawn forced backwards

With the strike of nine wounded vipers

Backwards ever forward never

Light shines where it shines

Light in every being

Ascending to ascension

Till the world sees bright light indeed

Light shines where it shines

The moon in your palms

Even on your sick bed

Of exit into eternal rest

That, men should see

The candlelight you were in their darkness.

Copyright (C) 2015

ABRONOMA

On that blissful night

Of retire from the Folks Place

Where our feet first converged at Nana's call

I, the bee

Blown by the wind into your path

Words exchanged one or two, or three

'You look familiar’, I have seen you before'

Then, you entered my soul, there

Embossed, not ephemeral, your fragrance

I inhaled deeply

Morning blossoms

Blossoming spring

Clothed in heaven's mind

The window of my heart flung opened

To catch your aroma and morning breathe

Afternoon sun

Baths you to beauty

Your attitude

Your sweetness

Your care

My heart whispered me calm

Spoke to me and sang a ballad

My heart knew it had found a treasure

A place, a home

A woman to love, a companion

Slowly

I loosened to trust like Bonwire’s loom

You are the weaver’s hand

Whose tears wiped away my tears

Love is no more a stranger

Abronoma

Dainty dove

I till the earth and sow

A handful of gratitude

For you, the august gift of August.

Copyright (C) 2015


Abronoma (Akan Twi) = Dove

PRICELESS

Fragile

Precious

Ripe egg

Bearer of gold eggs

Your wings spread beautifully abroad

Peacock in flight

You swallow the pebbles of my despair

Your love reminds me of old God

You mean so much

Words are prisoners of your love

Your smile spreads across  

Your voice is a tale on noble tongues

I will tell my mother about you

And remind your mother of her beautiful tree

Planted in the heart of a young lover

Priceless

Copyright (C) 2015

MY BLACK SUN, LORLORNYO

Mother told me about the shapely sun

That appears once in a blue moon

Carrying thoughts of the unborn

So I waited for her august arrival

I waited where the dusty roads kissed and broke

Where the roads embraced our town

It blossoms in the king’s forest

In all tranquility

I stood on restless dust

She eats me; the dust, I eat her

I eat the dust

Till my skin dries

Blurs!!

I stood amidst the unwelcome of crippled branches

Darkness rushed by, across my shoulder

Fear mounted upon our soul's silhouette, unyielding

Our earnest plea was lost in the wind’s sail.

Many nights passed

The royal gongs were agog

They came, love birds

They came to where they had began

Perched on the tree’s waiting arms

Ohene wraps himself in her sunken breast

Sprinkling each other with sweet melodies of delightful memories

My admiration for the old lovers soared

Then, you showed up

My dearest!

Colorful bird among birds!!

More beautiful than a Goldian Finch

My thoughts flew out of my chest into hers

I wept and she knew why

She wept also, her love pierced my heart to glee

My armour-bearer; my kings guard

Stay here, my dome, my Lorlornyo

For, you are the black sun that should rise daily atop my roof

On ethereal eternal nights

Copyright (C) 2015

SWEAT IS GOLD

Sweat and gold
Sweat on gold
Sweat is sweat
Gold is gold
Sweat is gold

Copyright (C) 2015

EKURASE

The night always young
peasants resuming from labor
Noise of children so real and loud

Igniting a chorus through every deafening silence
¹Ekurase

Each day too young to die
Footprints denting sand dunes
All are busy, none will dare sleep
Every man at his best
Ekurase

Household sits around the illuminating fire
Listening to the sage as he unties wisdom knot
Gray hairs nods in agreement amidst the lads
And in a mellow mood they enjoy every word

Tell us legends which preceded our birth,
and why death has no cure, they seem to ask
But night has journeyed far and old folks are weary,
They wait for a fortnight

Ekurase!
Forever my love at first sight.

¹Ekurase: Akan name for village

First published at http://poetryfoundationghana.org/index.php/traditional-poems/item/303-ekurase
Copyright (C) 2013

YUSUF AND ABIBA

(Yusuf tickles Abiba..they smile..She tickles him)
.
.
.
.
.
You sparkle like the sun in its prime
and like the moon in full bloom
so stick with me like dust to earth, that
just like Romeo and Juliet
we remain, Yusuf and Abiba.


Copyright (C) 2013

THE SUN AND THE MOON

The Sun stays awake while the Moon sleeps.

The Moon stays awake while the Sun sleeps.

If only we would in this manner live,

Being each other’s keeper; watching each other’s back,

The world will always see light, day or night.



Copyright (C) 2013

MY SONS ARE NOT

Drums don’t beat anymore

The once noisy night has gone dumb

so our hearts

The town is as quiet as a graveyard, even

Jimmy Jimmy the drunkard has gone to sleep

Where is the youth leader? Nobody knows

Has he travelled to visit his in-laws? No

Has he gone to see his concubine? No

Has he gone in search of our enemies? No

 So where is he? Where is she? Nobody knows

Fathers cannot find their sons, and mothers their daughters

There is no one to go and bring firewood

They have gone to the city, says Dzifa the village gossip

Who will go in search of our men and tell them of our dying farms?

Who will leave his plantation to go in search of our missing sons?

So mothers sit to eat

They eat the bread of sorrow in tears

Humming songs in limbo

They know all is not well

The men don’t know what to do

Fireside stories no more drips from the lips of the aged

Fireside stories today sit in history books’ corolla

The dusty market square is beseck with silence at night

No music is heard, no one is there to sing and dance

The place of the chief linguist is vacant and exalted with dust

No one will take his place; No one is there to take his place!

Elders know all is not well, they sing the same chorus

Where is my son? Where is my daughter?

Fathers cannot find their sons, and mothers their daughters

There is no one to go and bring firewood

They have gone to the city, says Dzifa the village gossip

Who will go in search of our men and tell them of our dying farms?

Who will leave his plantation to go in search of our missing sons?

So mothers sit to eat

They eat the bread of sorrow in tears

Humming songs in limbo

They know all is not well

The men don’t know what to do

Fireside stories no more drips from the lips of the aged

Fireside stories today sit in history books’ corolla

The dusty market square is beseck with silence at night

No music is heard, no one is there to sing and dance

The place of the chief linguist is vacant and exalted with dust

No one will take his place; No one is there to take his place!

Elders know all is not well, they sing the same chorus

Where is my son? Where is my daughter?

Copyright (C) 2012

All Rights Reserved

MY LOVE

Play the flute of love

Let me alone dance to its tune

  

All night, till daybreak exposes the dove

You are my love; Poetry, my dearest love.

First written on the 18th October, 2011. 
Copyright (C) 2012