BROKEN : A POEM

He cries.

He cries because he is dead and no one seems to notice.

The darkness is overpowering,

He can’t find himself.He gropes here and there hoping to at least find a small part of himself in the darkness.

For he knows he is broken. In Pieces.

That’s really why he cries

Because the dead are broken souls who do not know themselves.

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THE MARRIAGE OF ANANSEWAA:NOT A REVIEW

Authors Note: Agoo!(a vocalised Akan knocking) Hope all is good.I got this play from my sisters book list for High School.And its excellent 

So Ananse, the ever cunning man in Ghanaian folklore tells a complex lie in order to make money for himself and his daughter Anansewaa .He decides to give his daughter’s hand in marriage to four different chiefs.Until they all decide to do the Knocking rites( Marriage rites) on the same day.How does George K. Ananse untangle this web he has spurn. Find a copy and enjoy one of Ghana’s greatest plays by one its great writers, Efua T.Sutherland.

IMPRESSIONS: A POEM

  Authors Note: Heyy!Did you miss me? The Last week has been hectic presentations and things.I’m still working on the series though.Meanwhile enjoy Impressions.
                                IMPRESSIONS

I wanted to impress you

So I put on really high heels

And make up and whitened my skin.

I wanted to impress you,

So I sagged my jean

And used vulgar words.

I wanted to impress you,

So I emptied my accounts

And bought you golden words and silver skies.

I  wanted to impress you,

 So I had all the children

My womb could bear.

I wanted to impress you, 

So I let you decide my life

And plan my future.

Poor me, lucky you.

KILLERS : A POEM

Author’s Note : So I hope you are good.Im still working on my series(Still dealing with my addiction to procrastination..hmm)I hope it gets ready soon.This is a poem I wrote years ago in SHS.Enjoy

                        KILLERS

We are killers

Look at the blood

Its coppery smells intoxicates me.

We killed her

The blood drives me crazy

Her round-face haunts me.

Like the face from my worst nightmares.The spider with the human face, screaming in pain.

Her cries taunts me.She shouts my name

Whenever I shut my eyes

Like the Larbis in my school days

She attacks when I least expect.

We called her names

“Mother of none”, “Empty womb”, “The woman’s whose birthing right was withheld by the heavens”, “witch.”

We called her all sorts of names. Making and coining custom-made names just for her.

We cast boulders at her with the superhuman strength of our lips.

We led her to lose a husband.A man who wasn’t man enough.

He run when we begun.

When we began hurling the stones, just days before we progressed to boulders.

We dragged her with invisible ropes.

We dragged her to the bridge and forced her to jump.

With just our lips. How powerful we are!

We are murderers.We are killers

She died silently, without spilling any blood.

Yet our hands are soaked in blood and our heads are filled with her screams.

THE REWARD OF A GOOD DEED : A CHILDRENS STORY.

    

        THE REWARD OF A GOOD DEED

It was a Wednesday  evening and I was returning from school. It had rained a few  hours before and everywhere was very wet the ground was very muddy and quiet slippery. I continued walking, making sure to keep steady so that I didn’t fall. I reached the bank of a large mass of water that had been created as a result of the rain. I watched as those in front me rolled up their trousers and skirts and waded through the brown water in order to get to the other side. As I removed my sandals and put it in my  bag I noticed an old woman who was standing in front of the brownish looking water with her walking stick in her hand. The other people around had completely ignored her. I don’t know why but I felt that I must help her. So I drew closer to her and told her I would help her across. She declined saying that she had called her son who would be there in a few minutes. The rain had began drizzling again and it was clear that it was going to get harder. I managed to convince her to climb on my back so I could carry her across . She took my bag off my bag swung it on her back and got on my back. With her walking stick in my hand and with the help a young woman, I managed to get across. I ended up carrying her to her house which was close by . The moment we got there  a young man came out. He was probably the old woman’s son who she had talked about earlier. He apologised and thanked me profusely and put a GHS 10 note in my hand.

I had totally forgotten about this until I was invited for an interview at one of the reputable banking companies in the country. The man leading the interview asked me if I remembered him. I told him I had forgotten .He said “I didn’t forget”. Then he went on to remind me of what I had done for his mother those years ago. Long story short, I got the job not because I was overly qualified but because of the good deed I had done some years back .It is true that good deeds are always rewarded.

THE OCEANS OF US : A POEM

Author’s Note: The state of pollutions of our waters are heart breaking.The last time I went to the beach(a lot of years ago).It was like a dump(I’m totally serious .I saw actual faeces on the beach).It’s a shame there hasn’t been much change.Here is something I wrote about our seas and how we treat them.

               THE OCEANS OF US.

In the middle of the ocean lives parts of us

You, me and them

But the dirt the faeces and the plastics

It suffocates us,  it strangles us 

And those parts of us die

And we die. And we cease to exist.

Right where the waves gather

For their timely meetings is where we sink.

For the waves are proof of our selfishness, our hate, our indifference, our shame

For only the waves know. They are proof of our existence ; good or bad.

And they will tell him What He already sees

He who promises to destroy those who destroy his earth.

Ps: Last line makes reference to Revelation 11 : 18.(Even Jehovah cares about pollution.).You should too.