Village boy Impressions

Fifteen villages share the land And more if you look closely They till it, mould it, build it And call it Buluk, home. The children have dispersed far Many no longer remember it, At least not in the old fond way. They do not know its history They do not speak its language But the old blood runs strong . Its fire burns in their hearts, They want to know; and For them the land tells its tale:   "I have lain here ages uncounted Before ever a foot trod upon my back  Or men spoke with voices, and I have seen and known much  That none now knows or remembers. But I would have you know, that, Once I was a far green country, Without border or path or hamlet. Countless streams fed by steady rains Coursed through my valleys, Filled with innumerable fishes. Spectacular creatures and extinct monsters, Roamed across my woodlands; Gigantic buffalos and mammoth-like elephants, Giant reptiles and the mysterious Sivatherium; The moose-like giraffe named Shiva’s beast. And numerous mega-herbivores t

https://wallpapers.com/wallpapers/grim-reaper-rainy-night-5w3t8wte90wquc2c.html In the sweet morning air bright, A little lizard sat upon the wall Across from my window.  Dead-like still and snug she was. All flat, and dark greyish concealed. I could not have noticed her  But for the repeated darts  Shot at the passing ants.  Then crept up, a scowly cat noiseless   And the fiery dragon was carried off  To be the dinner  of a skulking hunter.  The predator had become the prey  The devourer became the devoured  The watcher indeed knows not  that he's watched.  We are the victims of our own plots, The carvers of our own destinies; Whilst we prey on others,  We are preyed upon. Whilst we close in on others, We are enclosed upon. Whilst we focus on others, Life-changing ideas go unprocessed. And by us many opportunities pass Unnoticed, untaken, untested. And before we know it, The curtains are closing upon us; The dark angel is at our bedstead, His raised scythe descending... Tamale 03/

I was struck at an hour unforeseen; And at a place unexpected With love sudden and sweet. My heart danced like many butterflies My legs went stiff and impotent, Shivers coursed through my frame, The blood swelled in my breast, Beating loudly with mighty blows With love I could not articulate. I smiled, and she smiled, Her golden eyes shown brighter, My eyes refused to look away, Light beamed on my face, The birds were muted in every tree, The clocks stopped ticking, My heart has left its nest, To dwell in a fairer bosom, There, in bliss, forever!  14/02/17

  I laugh at the day, however it turns out. And at the night, dark or starry I count as joy! I laugh in the morning sunlight laugh at the fierce noon day sun, the fading light of dusk, The sparkling moonlight, and the twinkling stars at night. I laugh to see the egrets, Flying overhead, destined for I know not where. I laugh at the ants, Who stole bits of my food Into their hidden cove At the foot of my wall. I laugh at the wind, Even the mighty Harmattan,  When it comes desiccating all. I laugh at the trees, The grass, and the shrubs, Even the thorns and thistles. I laugh at the rain; Hailstones,  when they come pelting. And thunderstorms,  when they come, tearing all in their path.   I laugh to see my feet Drenched in the dawn dew And the tender shoots in the fields Trembling in the morning breeze. I laugh to see the maize, the millet And the sorghum in bloom, As the birds, and the bees humming from flower to flower,  fertilizes them. I laugh to see the ripened crop All ready fo

                                                                                                                                                                                 35 th January 2022 His Royal Miserliness, First Born of the Gregorian Calendar  Slow Motion Avenue Three Hundred & Sixty-Five One-Quarter Days. Dear January,  Last week, I wrote you a very long disturbing letter in which I chided you for your yearly niggardly attitude and wanton display of sluggish disdain for the dignity of labour and the golden rule not to mete out what you cannot countenance in others.   It seems nearly everyone has lost something since you came up: students cannot find their school fees, tenants are owing rent, housewives have misplaced the chop-money they were given in December, pubs have lost customers, a couple of drunks have lost their front teeth, the few virgins we have, have broken their vessels of honour and not a few ladies are missing periods.  As if that was not enough, many m

It was a beauteous night, dusty and cold  And we were all mum and droopy  Whilst the preacher droned on  And the rest of the world lived on  An expectant harmattan swirled around  As stemmed waters must feel bound  Yet gyrating as one tickled in erogenous places  On and on and on towards the climax  The cold outside threatened to come in  And we held our sweaters to ourselves  As we gazed at the clock ahead  Inching ever closer to the new year  Suddenly everyone’s tongue was loosed Everyone’s voice was lifted in praise And sang in generous grateful tones As we leapt in joyous ecstasy Turning round and about  We embraced and hugged and waved And with beamish smiles Hailed each in greeting..." Bein paali !*" Life and beauty poured out as at sunrise And my secret heart glowed with love And gratitude for life, family, friends Oh that the singing would never end! 17th January 2019 Accra. *Bein paali - Happy New year! You can also find this poem and other poe

From the east, a golden-sun  rises proud and majestic, Shining in all brilliance and delight. His rays strike with fierce-some joy Upon the bare brown earth, with Not a cloud in the heavens to stay them. Energy gushes forth in torrents, Birds, beasts, gods, and mortals Glow with vigour and intent . The Drums sound, the flutes call, The birds chirp, the doves coo, Goats and sheep, rams and bulls Bleat and moo in joyous ecstasy. Kids and calves bray and fray  Smoke rises from cooking places. It is Feok! A hallowed day, a merry day; Bubbly with contentment and laughter. Today we drink, and we eat, We celebrate and  make merry And dance with grace and skill The rhythm of our land. Like one mighty beating heart, The land throbs with graceful steps. The hills ring with voices of song As we recall the valour and skill, The courage and strength, And the charity of our fathers, Who rose against the cowardly Babatu an d his marauding beasts; And slew an