Village boy Impressions

Hurt not the trees! The trees! The trees! Oh hurt not the trees! These majestic giants,  Robed in green glory; Thick as thieves, Meek as mice,  Ancient even as the land.   Silent, calm, dignified. Shedding their incense  upon a neglected realm. Long have they stood,    deep in their root, tall in their reach massive in their girth keeping watch over us; from the blazing sun above,  the blistering earth at our feet, and the carbonic gas in air. Come, let us go on our knees to thank and praise their worth! Oh, what a sight they make; What a view to see; What beauty to admire;  Cheek to cheek,  shoulder to shoulder, with intertwining boughs  muttering their supplications  over this wretched thoroughfare that has received naught but promise upon promise  yet cannot be mended And now to be without them? The first shade of welcome  and the last sigh of goodbye upon this dusty stretch. Is their death the price we must pay, For the promises to be fulfilled? Stop! Listen! Across the land, the h

I am but a pin in this strangling place; A manic world drowning in sensual excess. Yonder lies only shameless opulence, And here, shameful squalor and discontent Where cats eat mice and cheese  And the mice must eat other mice. Each day I jostle with the thousands  In the sweltering noon sun at Nima With hands and breast,  I must heave and cleave, The foundation of new mansions at Ashongman Must push and pull truck and cart Through Kantamanto and Mallam Atta And nudge my way through the  madding crowds At Ashaiman and Agbogbloshie  Till I hear the clink of copper in my pocket  Or see the precious red paper at hand To buy only stale bread and pure water, Pay one macho man to ease myself, And another one to wash, And the rest to an indolent landlord  at Sodom and Gomorrah Whose only estate is the half-rotten kiosk Where at the coming of darkness With my legs as heavy as lead, My muscles sickly with fatigue And all my joints disjointed, I suffocate with eight brothers fro

The sun is searing hot Hurling down fierce fuming rays.  Earth roasts under his angry gaze  As meat over blazing coals.  Everything bows in submission  Men, birds, beasts, and beetles  Trees, shrubs and every blade of grass  Droops in defeat and compliance. On this sweltering March noon ablaze Upon a deserted path in defiance , A solitary figure lumbers on. Bent forward with a stern grit, with A double load of wood and flesh, Labouring on, towards The distant din of a village market! Read:  Village Boy Impressions  -  Fathers A mother, with her mewling infant And a hefty load of firewood Trudging to the market To buy salt and pepper  That she may feed her family! Her man, probably lounging in a bar Had shoved at her a basket of millet With nothing else for soup. She had gone to the mortar To thresh that millet with sore palms And upon her grinding stone  Milled it all into flour. She went to the river with a big pot Till all the bigger pots at home brimmed over.  But

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