Village boy Impressions

Why are there so many derogatory comments for a girl? Bitch, ho, slut, thot, whore! Why is my worth found in my vagina? Why am I valued by how many I've lain with?   Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Unsung Heroines   Why is it wrong to be alone? Why is marriage seen as my end goal? Why am I insulted when I want no marriage? Why am I only seen as female when I marry? Click to Read:  Village Boy Impressions - The Kayayei's Tale Why is my worth, dictated by my children? Why am I less if I have none? Why is my son considered my child? I have a daughter here, does she not qualify? Why are my children mine when they are bad? Are they not their father’s too? Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Fathers   My sister, we live in a special kind of place Say no more about this age There is no peace for a woman here Nor can joy be found anywhere near Maybe, we’ll find them in a world Where there is no man Until then, endure this hell Death will come s

Pain, pain and more pain The loss of a gamble Listen and learn You who would like to gamble You who are ready to explore   I burn, oh I burn! With the flame of regret and pain And yet I cannot stop My feelings in debt It was time to gamble my heart away   Have You Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Beauty's Plight? Why did you not warn me of the cost? Why did you signal me to go on? To not care To borrow from merciless death It was time to gamble my sight away Let none say a word Let none see my despair Let my mask remain fixed An eternal smile of patience and peace A time it was to gamble my voice away   Read Here:  Village Boy Impressions - Serenade to my love Breaking hearts like vases I could have any but picked you Hollow eyes, bleeding tears of blood I was so taken Time it was to gamble my body away   Should I say? Nay. Silence is golden, endurance more so Let it not be said, I wavered at the end It was time to gamble my

Sunset on the High Plains of the  Mojave Desert  (courtesy: Wikipedia) When the body easily frails And breath suddenly shortens, When the joints can no longer hold Then you know that sunset dawns. Have You Read:  To the Lily ? When those silky strands refuse to Sprout, leaving a fine circumference Of parched land on the head. Then you know that sunset dawns.   When nature takes his stencil and Without mercy designs those familiar lines Leaving streaks of lightening on the face, Then you know that sunset dawns.   Read Here:  The Wailing Bride When the mamba well placed in The very centre of the garden Can no longer rear its head to eat An apple, then you’re sure that sunset dawns.   When those once bulgy glands That brought joy to daddy and baby Now stress, shrivel and sag Then there’s no doubt that sunset dawns.   Village Boy Impressions - When the Sun Shines in Bergen The morning seemed unending. The ultra-rays almost indefinite. W

Oh bright and innocent Lilium, Why do you wail in the mountain breeze?  Golden Splendour, scented Robina, Why envy the crimson-rose?  Think not of them,  You also have your shine. Behold the sun outshines all And all life hasten to greet his awakening.  Yet it is the moon, the lesser light  That makes the cripple hungry for a walk!  Village Boy Impressions - The Joys of Mother Africa How you degrade yourself, fairest lily, And do the sons of Adam an injustice.  Though they be beguiled of the sun by day, They soon seek the shade of the huge baobab To escape even his charm and grandeur  But of the moon, it is not told  That they tired nor sought rest.  Village Boy Impressions - Moonlit Nights As the day makes way for the night,  So does the sun for the moon, And long into the watches of the night, The village is bathed in her glorious splendour, Charmed by her joyous beams Intoxicated with her beauty. Only when she grows shy and hides her grin  Do they, at last, seek their happy mats  An

I was happy when the long Awaited rain started pouring. But the soft shower soon matured Into a strong fearful storm. I saw the roofs ripped apart by the Horrendous winds that blew. Like a Gazelle in search of water I run in search of the Crag Read:  Village Boy Impressions - Hustler in Accra   Glad I was to see the sunshine. Before long the warm friendly planet Had grown into a sulfur furnace. Soon enough the burning heat set My frock on fiery, fatal, flames. Turning my flesh into roast beef I rent my clothes in fright And flew in search of the Crag Read Here:  Village Boy Impressions - Televised News in Ghana   Then I saw the kinsman’s hut That seemed so hale and hearty. I was weak but I knocked and kicked Until the door seemed to open. But where was the headman? He was gone, gone, never to return. Strange eyes stared ferociously at me So I sped in search of the Crag  Have you read:  Village Boy Impressions - Vipers? Then I saw the

On  the wall in my backyard, In the shade of the tall tree in flower Round and round the trunk, up and down A she-lizard dances with her mate. My heart rolled back the years Till I stood by the crags in childhood  Wide-eyed with a taut catapult in hand A roughly round pebble held ready to fly As we circled the rocks  in the noon sun. Read:  Village Boy Impressions - The Baobab Tree Agama, what a good sport! Swift, spirited and agile Just as good at swerving as Breaking suddenly in flight.  Quite a wonder and a challenge to us. But so also were we, the little cats Nimble of foot and deft with our shots. Driven by our little rumbling tummies; The constant nagging companions of our boyhood. Read:  Village Boy Impressions - A Tribute to Hunger Our favourite was always the landlord Blue-grey body, and yellow tail Red or orange head, so cocky Mocking us from your elevated post On the crags, roofs, high walls or tree branches, Defying our flying stones and curses. 

Indeed, beauty is sweet and tasty Like the lily by the waters That the little damsel plucked  And pinned in her auburn hair. But she grew tired of her captive As soon as she spotted the rose That blossomed by the walkway. Off came the lily out of her silky setting Into the nearby stenchy sewage Then smiled the rose and sat On the wench’s auburn hair  Enjoying her ladyship whiles it lasted. Sons of Adam are as the damsel. Daughters of Eve are as the lily. Oh, son of Adam! why do you pluck A white lily when you need a red rose? You smell, you touch and you taste Only to spit out into the stenchy sewage. Very soon there will be no more lilies Still bright, white and innocent. Only roses shall remain, ready to sting With their poisonous thorns When at last they sure must fall into The dark stenchy sewage of forgetfulness. And blame it on the damsel, we will, The unending plight of beauty. ***************************************************************** By Oparebea Maafo