Poetry

From within it comes
From that invisible portion of man
And it’s brought out
To be heard by the crowd

Relaxing, making happy, seeking
To cheer whoever has the hearing,
Like the soul of anything that seeks
To comfort the other soul.

My poem a song and prayer
That nature sings to itself
And rings its bells to its maker,
Has ever been and will be made louder.

Nature met it
Already here, they met it
They will leave but it will stay
Stay with the maker even in his presence.

This immortal entity
Is produced by the mind
Written by the hands
And read in sound by the mouth

Poetry, my poetry, is life without which
We march to the grave in mournful
Songs; in lines so short but meaningful,
All that has been, and yet will be.

To those who will only hear and criticize
Not even to cheer,
I leave you to ponder endlessly
Over it, in noisy struggle, as I rest peacefully.

The name

Early in the morning after all said rituals
Before the moon disappears from the blue and fleece
Patiently waiting came out sounding
This name invoked by the minds to the stranger
Who has come to stay, the new born.

For the first time that
I heard this name that
I bear, seven days in darkness
I was kept, from that
Morning and evening golden rays.

A name after the heart of two
According to the dictates of the clan
Name them both male and female
The name which tells of a story
Retold by the clan and of two

Ever since have I heard
And seen many have their name
Pride and disown it;
Changing it on paper and
Adding others sometimes.

This name is called for a response
For a service and an aid,
In respect, when it’s called
For smiles to follow
Driving away our angry mood.

Name that is only remembered
By the pure in heart
And forgotten by those
On the narrow path
Away or rebelling against the source

This name rises high above all others,
A name that is called by other
Names; Superior to other
Names, mentioning other
Names in order to call it.

Name that invokes the almighty
That induces on him our will
That allows us to be his own
When not from Abraham's bowels
Yet allowed to be among his own

Name that in death like the bearer
Disappears into thin air
as he disappears into the bosom
Of the dear earth
Heavy or light to be lied on

The name that created all things
And has been since time memorial.
They met it, we too and so will they
The name which will stay with all other
Names even after death

Goal

He looses his mark
The striker enters the eighteen
One two and three
A goal it is, G-o-a-l!

The screaming and shouting
From empty stomachs they come
The throwing of legs and hands
By the weak and weary
The noises they follow, the blind
For a brief moment forget
Their plights and frets

Tooting horns fill the streets
Blood from the wounded and dead too
Uncontrollable joy mounts up
uncontrollable pain in the hearts
Bloodless wounds which could
No be nursed an entire life time
Assets and properties will be gained
In difficulty for generations unborn
And lost in ease in a flash

Glasses will clash without breaking
Throats will open ready to swallow
Earned sweat till tummy fills up,
Till our eyes plea to our feet

For a brief moment
We cry no more
Peace and security
Hunger and thirst
Justice and righteousness
Equality and one for all
Not all for one.

Few filled pockets, have all our resources
Leaving the cries unsolved
Misplaced priorities by wicked men in pajeros
Where majority will listen and not hear
This cry until they be over:
The damage with the euphoria of the ball entering the net.

My wretched soul

Moments spent with you like
The brightness just before the cloud cover
The sun, very gentle , pleasing and short
Far before the showers be opened
Onto the poor earth just to flood it

One searched that light
That brightened his dark being
Because of where one came from
Because one once lived there:
With the light and in it was
Covered one like a strong metal shield

Those rays that one searched
To replace that beam, that
Brightness just before the rain
Was once far away until
Eyes met the telescope, that
Which brought it nearer

One expects that it will
Live with us and not
Like those others: the short lived
Lightening splashes that
Ushers in the trumpet sound
Of the clasp of thunder

If it were a gift
I would replace with another precious one
If it were a poem
I could write lines unending
If it were a song
It would be sang by an orchestra
And forever will live in the minds and hearts

Oh wretched soul that I have
Become for not being able to keep
The light after piercing through me
But allowed it to move out
Into the deep dark making
Me lonely, cold and without purpose
The bats, only to see and hear them

Close your eyes and make a step
And you’ll know how it feels
To depend on people, to be led by
Strangers and those who mock
You at the end; they near you
Because of what they get from you
Oh wretched soul that I am.

From the distance a thick rain cloud
Approaches and sends shivering
Through me from the head to the scalp
Now that the winds blow steadily
I could not tell how soon they’ll arrive
To cover the beam that I have found
O wretched soul that I’ll become

strike, throw and smell

Strike with experienced fingers
Strings of the harp
Just once and
More than once
Would be heard in harmony

Throw with your strength
As weak as a pregnant lady
Just once a pebble
More than once the sight
The ripples after the splash

Smell the foul smell
In the land of the rot
Grows the lotus amidst
The dropping and coloured water
Into clean petals white and spotless

fallen tree

He cut the tree
Falls the pear, its fruits
Its moaning and groaning
Heard he not
Its beauty saw he not
With thick trunk, the birds
Around surround in blue
A farewell to their friend.

( )

Crowded for food because
Can not cook at home.

Leaf picking with beaks alone
In order to build their home.

Where stagnant waters flow
Doing same seeing her yawn.

What did he do to her?

What did he do to her?
she who leaps to hag
and leans when cannot cling,
who has weighed anchor
that keeps her trust
and has woven the spider’s web
so thick and uncut a web,
around her thawing heart
which flows away at the rising
of the burning sun.

those bloodless wounds though
healed and beaming with smiles
which has replaced her far away look
stands to conquer and resist
the attacking soft and charming words
from any corner at any time
no matter how long it takes
at the mercy of her cherished principles.
Principles that were not only thought of but
Experienced from where the hear t formed the pact
Which has brought no one any good.

What did he do to her
That after so many years
A barrier has been formed
So formidable an with alloys stronger
Than steel and though has recovered
Years ago , those around her now,
Her pain they still feel
More than has been unleashed
On her several years ago?
So unthinkable her effect on them.

After what he did to her,
She who leaps to hag
And leans when can not cling
Will lift anchor but when,
As her thawing heart flows away
And goes waste on the dust y floor?
If only will have the power
I will cut down the spiders web
Making her love again
And freeing them from her imprisonment.

She whose voice calms the angry
And the quick tempered but
Failed to calm herself
Losing all what meant much to her,
Unfulfilled dreams which could come
To pass if only would allow one to cut
That which seems to be an obstacle,
A borne fear of the unknown
This present time not to remain

Butterfly and dragonfly

Flies in the air everywhere
Yet are not heard
Butterflies and dragonflies
On and around the coloured
Petals, which shows their glory in bloom

Butterflies in the air
Ready to sap of the nectar
As swiftly followed the dragonfly
Whose entrance was denied when
Ready to grab his juice,
Save the butterfly

In the belly they are felt
An unpleasant feeling
Which is wished to end
But the dragonfly not
So close, let alone enter
But afar from them remained

Butterfly kisses!! The petals
And their colourful smell shouted
Again and again until
It gave up the chase.
Poor dragonfly a sorrowful fly
As its lips wish for this taste

LOCKED INDOORS

Indoors the blue bird stays
Like a bat in the day
When it must spread
Its colourful wings
Across the clear heavens
Like a star in cloudless night

Strength and vigour fills his veins
Industry and innovation
So full of immense wealth untapped
Acquired through tiresome study
In higher education to develop
His wings and attain his real blue colour

His place of abode lies in the
Grasses and shrubs and no more
The fruitful pear trees, cut
And in its place, many stores
And super markets patronized
By a few wicked people in pajeros
No shelter over his head, he has,
No break in an endless job hunt
From the appearance of the sun
To the moon, such an inheritance
For others like him competing a place
For a daily morsel under any tree.

Where are you, trained blue bird
Who can sing the melodious songs
Which would drive away
Like the pied piper of Hamelin
Our unquenchable thirst and hunger
Our engulfing illiteracy and waste
That plagues the poor on the dusty path?

Where are you selfless blue birds?
For butterflies are now homes as pest
And rats and cockroaches friends of man
…and they blame their ancestors
For not being brave and wise enough
For allowing into their abode, the white man.

Will we have the pear tree, when?
…the fruitful tree, when will it grow tall
When planted again? Our blue birds lie sorrowfully
And homelessly like a stranger in their own land,
Though a graduate, being sought for
In lands afar by numerous pear trees.

AYEKOO !

Ayekoo son of Nkroful
Kwame was his name
Do you not know him, tell me?
He who returned to the coast of gold
He who named it after the ancient empire
Ghana our beloved country
Did you not hear it:
My Adomi bridge, my Tema habour
And the solid infrastructure
Because he believed in her?
We remember as
We salute you for that end:
The struggle for our independence.
We salute you for the motivation:
The struggle for African liberation.
They too, salute you:
The AU’s initiatives
The whites who even opposed you
Ayekoo they say
To the proud son of Nkroful
Wo jogban, Kwame
Wherever your soul lies.

Before the knock

The confused mind, wandering thoughts… spoken words
Terrifying fear … action or inaction, gay or pain
Hovers around settling down
When not permitted
Blinding the weak eyes, shutting down
The straining ears and ceasing breaking breadth.

Open your weak eyes
Even when it is dusty and dark,
Too bright too crowdie
Allowing not the piercing
Sword of the mind and the sharp
Fork tongue more poisonous
Than the scorpion and the rattle snakes.

Open your straining ears not to the banshees
But the sweet soothing song of the bluebirds
Comforting many as it rains.
Through out the ages yet
Has none to comfort
But the smiling moon and passing fleece.

None to speak to because
Surrounded by the cold and thorny trees
Short to its reach…
By the long winter nights of starless skies
And the short sunny days
Its words, voices like echoes waiting
To be accepted and heard, opened
To be loved by those it loves.

Gay or pain whatever it be
Fed up by the silence which
It protects and nurtures
Because of others that came its way
Shortly but devastating
Polluting and looting its enchanting voice
That lips imitate in failure.

Open and loose, release and allow
The mind and thoughts for a change for once
For us, for good and well-being
For that future, for them and all others
Below or higher, to what the aching and aging ears
Will hear from the weary mouths of what the weak eyes see
The truth it is, only will tell, the coming moments.

Respect long gone

…that light, too bright
On my face to shine
And blind my horrible sight.
Hide it!...in the dark
So my senses will live in peace

That light too bright
Once flew that flash so bright
Yet harmful, hurtful
A first experience,
Better if not shown at all

That light too bright
When my mind made complete meaning
And their mind made no meaning
Even though the mountains
Are above with the glaring sun

That light too hot
I could no longer contain
What my eyes saw, not
Alone but all within me too,
As if not too bright

That light, too bright
That your shame could not hide
In the darkness and not
So precious, what we’ve built
To be guarded but destroyed

That respect, long gone
And of the residue after
The fruits with their seeds consumed?
…that hurt too shameful?

Beautiful beast

Hands went towards pain
At the same time that her
Mouth opened to let out her
Sorrowful cry of hurt
For a parting that has been thought
Of but seems to have delayed.

I slept one afternoon, all bright
When I suddenly blacked out
When awoken, no more the keys
To my heart which beside me had lain
Before his arrival, the raid
Of the beautiful beast

Dancing alone

Tap my shoulders and hold my hands
Don’t leave me alone
Because the moon hangs like a ball
And I fear the engulfing dark
Around me if I must dance alone

My blue bird
My own blue bird
Just descended from the clouds
Where it has been colouring
Its colourful feathers.

My blue bird
My own blue bird
Invited I to a party under the blue
In the moon lit night
Started they and all
In pairs except the pear tree

He dances alone
To the melodious blowing wind
From side to side, its dancing rhythm
Which is heard by the leaves
Dancing to the created echoes

But on its branches hangs
Memories of the past:
How the blue bird has
Sat and leaned against its trunk
Completely drawn in thought with the dance.

Dirt in the eyes

Just a few tarred roads
With many dust y ones
Dirt as hot as a corn cob
Right from the open fire in
Our nostrils and our throats
Feel bitter and sour at once
Taking all these injustices.

Dirt in our eyes
Turning white the two black spot
Blinding even those with lenses.
Dirt that stains and stains our only
White linen and never goes out
Even when applied
The most powerful bleach

Injustice like dirt fills the air
Almost always seen everywhere
Our friends they pose
A just cause to uphold
But deceit and inequality
Born and bread by those
Who claim to be against it

Tears flow from our eyes
More than a pool full
And suddenly all wants to swim in this:
That which came out of the poor

They laugh at us

Secretly in their chambers
They laugh at us when they
give us the role to cut the sod
to commence a project

Secretly they laugh at us
when we come bowing down
to collect their money,
money we’ll pay blowing our noses

Secretly they laugh at us
Making us treat our
Citizens in a manner they wouldn’t
In their own country

Land of the blessed

Below the blue and fleece
Where the sun only shines
At midnight for a while
For the moon to have rest,
Here they hunger and thirst
Amidst the abundance.

The land of the blessed
Where the seen lives
With the unseen and makes
himself known to those
with an extra eye ,
those who really desire him
not for themselves but others.

In the land of the blessed
Together they lived
every agreed moment
But just for a while before a separation
Into other lands to bless it
and make it like their own.

Returning to the land of the blessed
To restore their strength
To receive their sight again
To be remembered of the promise
The promise of the invisible
To the visible for that great day.

Here , friends and lovers will stay
With enemies and foes
And will not suffer, their soul,
Against their terrible plans
But the elements and the stars.

There below the blue and fleece
His stale voice will be
To make us special a breed
According to his will
In order to be like him
In the land of the blessed.

EL CEMENTERIO

Se vive aquí, las mañanas están
tranquilas, muy ocupadas por
las tardes con diversos ruidos
que se empiezan desde los
animales a los hombres y sus
cosas. Los que a veces se
permiten y se disfrutan otras

veces se llenan de dolor y
tristeza. El ruido por la tarde
calurosa se oye con tanta pena.
¡El cementerio! Los pájaros
melodiosos, el bocinazo del
coche, gente que continúa a
quejarse. Aquí se quedan los
pájaros solos cuando salgan los

coches y se acompaña el clarín
de canto fúnebre. ¡El cementerio!
muy solo pero lleno de toda gente
diversa: rica y pobre, humilde y
altiva, plebeya y famosa. Este lugar
tranquilo, bajo cuyas tumbas
continúa una vida activa con
alegría y abundancia. La vida

de las termitas, la de la lombriz.
Este lugar silencioso que se llena
de la muerte, Arriba de las
tumbas, hay las flores vistosos
las hierbas verdes y los arboles
grandes. ¿Puede olvidar
a los roedores y los saltamontes?
El cementerio nuestro cabo,

nuestra agonía y tribulación.
Acá nuestro gemido termina y
allá vive ella también, la más
bonita y cariñosa llena del
humor y la pasiόn. La desean
todos, su sonrisa su ojo
encantado pero temieron ir acá
a menudo, el trocito de miedo

aunque se pinta blanco la tumba
de όseo la tiene miedo. El
cementerio donde nos termina
la memoria aquí nuestra vida
esquiva Aún en la muerte lo
buscan para que les abrace el
cementerio.

Anda ella en la belleza

Anda ella en la belleza como la hoja que cae
Y se balancea tranquilamente desde el baobab
Por la noche cuando hay luna.
Se humedece por la brisa camada que corre
en el abrazo del roció tranquilo mostrando
su destello como la reflexión de un diamante
en la oscuridad miedosa.

Llena de brazaletes en la muñeca con
Los aretes que muestra la luna brillando
Cuando los rayos le caen.
Sus mejillas poco pulidas son patadas por
Las oscuridades y su nariz sonriente y
Y sus ojos encantados son revelados.
Tan irresistibles, que uno no puede decir adiós
Cuando estás cerca de ella sola.

El cetro del universo ella es, a sus pies están
Los tesoros no descubiertos, todo lo que los oídos
Han oído que no se han visto.
Es la estrella brillante que alumbra mi noche,
Arrastrando a todo lo que respira.
Como una reina, los adornos que lleva
Cerca de ella y tan grácil su andar que
Define la elegancia cuando estás cerca de ella sola

Su gracia, no la pueden comprender los magos,
Su toque cambia el metal crudo en oro,
Se siente su calor en sus abrazos y eso es bastante
Para que se derrita su nervio helado, que convierte
el dolor en memorias alegres.
Nacido del rostro que se hunde en mil barcos
y destruye las torres altísimas, haciendo a los
hombres inmortales con sus besos, que son tan
maravillosos en sólo de pensar cuando estás
cerca de ella sola.

Como un vivero a los cultivos, como la sombra
Que nos da, nos echamos debajo de su frente,
como niños para las generaciones venideras.
Desde lejos por la noche ventosa y brumosa
Todavía anda ella en la belleza sola
Aunque se está lejos de ella.

Dígame

Dígalo,
Dígame como es
Como un cuento dicho a un niño
Muy sencillo y preciso
Todo dígalo
Desde el momento que los rayos
Cayeron en sus ojos estableciendo
la fundación de nuestra fuente gloriosa
que no se ha secado.

Dígalo
dígame como es
como el esfuerzo tremendo
muy calmo y liberado
todo dígalo
desde el momento sus afectos
cambiaron en los nubes inundando sus ojos
y trayéndose a una parada
todas las actividades.

Dígalo
Dígame como es
Como el canto que le ayuda a dormirse
Que se abre desde la trampa sin fondo
Donde se lo ha encadenado
Todo dígalo
Que calmante y relajante para una persona
cuando siente al cabo que está libre
despertándose y dándose cuenta que se dormía

Oh dígame
dígame como es
como es el primer paso de un niño
muy difícil y despacio.
todo, dígame.
pues estoy listo y una persona decidida ahora
para empezar cualquier viaje
si sólo lo que hace o dice,
si sólo sé, lo que hacer que me llega Ud. enamorado

La cita

Desesperado, como se puede decir
en lo que hago:

mirando a estos ojos brillantes,
los sentimientos de estos toques,
las sonrisas radiantes que lleva Ud.
cerca de mí,
compartiendo mi casa conmigo,
levantándome muy temprano para verte
cerca de mí,
y abrazándoles en tus abrazos nuestros niños
para que se consuelen.

Jamás me ha tocado mucho en el pensamiento
que teniendo el placer de salir para siempre contigo.

Una canción a Rodita

A veces una sonrisa
es lo que se necesita, todo
en su rostro hacia él;
Otras veces un toque
en tu hombro que le irá bien con él;

Pasar sólo por él
para que sepa que no vive
solo, para que oiga
tu voz en saludarle: recordándole
Que le cuides.
Aun nuestras vidas

Un pesado vacio cuando
las personas que se necesitan,
no nos desean; cuando
nuestros brazos estirados
Se ponen de un golpe muy pesado
que se llena de dolor cuando

nuestras palabras de paz y consuelo
Se convierten en un enfado,
una pelea y algo que causa mucha pena
¿Van a darnos esta oportunidad
con todo lo que se dice?
es para conocerles

El tambor fúnebre

El tambor fúnebre
ha pasado hace mucho
tiempos y en nuestras memorias todavía
se suenan los ecos de los aires.

La tierra ha sido brillante, tranquila y
justa, ha sufrido una tranquilidad sin un llanto y
todo el mundo quiere
que se quede para siempre
Nunca a regresar a casa.
En la distancia es en punto de pegar
con sus palos
El locutor, los tenía altos

como su tambor
Todavía quedaba bajo
de la tierra preparándose a sonar.
Pegando su piel, lo afirma el tambor,

Otra muerte, ¿pero quién?
La última vez estaba fuera de la vecindad
Hoy es adentro de la vecindad,
en mi casa, ¿pero quién?

Mi madre murió hace muchos años después
De la muerte de mi papá viejo.
mi mujer, su voz, puedo

oír, parece poco fuerte
Llora de una manera extranjera
que nunca he oído

Sh…!! Sh…!! El nombre que chillaba ella
Era… baboni su hijo, mi hijo
¡Ah…! ¡ah no! ¡No mi hijo!
Eso no puede ser verdad
Porque era fuerte cuando lo dejé

Desde hace treinta años cuando dejé
Entonces era un bebe mi hijo
Ahora qué lástima mi hijo
Que no puedo ver más tu cuerpo.

Despedida

Cuando veo su sonrisa
Me parece que es un mundo tranquilo
Cuando veo su depresión
Me parece que es un mundo sin brillo
Algo no se puede saber
Algo no puedo entender
Se va y se viene
Su desaparición y su aparición
Para decir adiós
Su presencia se me va
Mi corazón se detiene
Mi esperanza se pierde
Mi sueño se destruye
Mi luz se quita
Y en mi oscuridad canto
… hasta luego.

Mundo absurdo

Te amo, eres tú en quien
pienso todos los días.
Olvídeme no estoy lista.

¿Me quieres? Mi corazón estará
llena de pena si no me amas.
Olvídeme, no estoy listo.

Mi amor es para ella
aunque ya no vuelva.
No diga más te quiero.

Se busca y busca

Se busca el retiro
y se tendrá la soledad.

Se busca la belleza
y se tendrá las miradas.

Se busca el amor
y se rompen en odio.

Se busca a un hombre
y se tendrá un bruto por tu lado.

Se busca a una mujer
y se tendrá una fantasma cuando se le necesite.

Se busca el logro
y se renuncia ante el cabo.

Se busca la paz
y se combate sin una causa.

Se busca vivir por mucho tiempo
y se destruye el cuerpo.

Se busca ser un líder
y se niega servir.

Se busca para tener todo
y no se tendrá nada.

Lo útil del pasado

Cuando sea terrible lo que pasa
Se desea lo imposible para pasar
Se desea tenerles acerca de nosotros
La gente que queda lejos de nosotros
Se desea tener de nuevo el pasado
Que se pierde y desaparece en el presente

Cuando sea tranquilo todo
Se pierden la acción y el control
Y dejas las cosas y personas de valor
Que queden más cerca de todo
Se despejan el pasado y su error
Los que nos asaltan el honor

La tranquilidad después del llanto

Se ha volado todo el día
En el horizonte un alto árbol
Con las brasas anchas, la corneja
vuela para posarse pero no
le permitió una plaga
Que la hizo dar vueltas.
Por un momento fue recibido por el
Buitre como si no fuera nada
Una tranquilidad seguida
Después del llanto

Mientras estoy lejos los miré
Como un gato y un perro
Que tuvieron una lucha encarnada
Para decidir, cual persona le merece más.
Fue una lucha terrible, porque
Nadie había acudido al rescate
Sólo la carne descansa como un premio
Para el vencedor después de su victoria.

La paz, después de la lucha ruidosa
Los pedazos después del consumo
Un apretón de manos, una sonrisa
Un golpecito en el hombre
Sólo bastante para una restablecimiento
De enemistad serenidad,
Un legado para siempre
De a tranquilidad después del llora.

Oh Mujeres, en tus ojos

¿Qué se encuentran en sus ojos, las mujeres?
Llama y se responde en seguida,
Puede ser austero pero uno no puede quejarse,
Puede detenerte cuando tengas prisa,
La gente que se ocupa toma un descanso
Que creen que durará por el día.

Brilla en sus ojos oscuros como Venus
que empieza el día aburrido; es fuerte
como el pegamento
y tan seductivo como el néctar
que hace quedarse al insecto; como
la atadura que las palabras sólo
pueden preservar o no cumplir tiempo.

Suena dulcemente como azúcar, relajante y
Sereno, entretiene como la música en los
oídos y desde lejos se oye como el zumbido con el oídos
de los ciervos que están de guardia contra un depredador;
qué se encuentra en sus ojos, las mujeres.
Habla conmigo, como le miro a ella
y espero siempre que me responda.
Qué obra maravillosa
si nuestras mujeres queridas
comprenderían lo que se encuentra
en sus ojos

Pensando en la voz alta

Algunas cosas no se compran
aunque tengas todo el dinero en el mundo

Algunas cosas no son ingrávidas
aún no puede levantarlas el hombre fuerte

De algunas cosas no puedes ser dueño
aunque las tengan en tu bolsillo

Algunas memorias no se pueden olvidar
aunque causen más dolor

Algunas confianzas pueden ser perdidas de repente
aunque se formen hace mucho anos

Algunas personas se quieren por su dinero
aunque no haya ni una pizca de amor

Algunas pueden vivir contigo de manera cruel
aunque a ellas les abras tu corazón

Algunas podían reír y quedarse calmadamente
aunque la situación sea horrorosa

Algunas veces brilla el sol
aunque todavía llueve

Algunas veces debes esperar todavía
aunque se nos está acabando el tiempo

Algún lugar se nos cuida
aunque está lejísimo de nosotros

Algún lugar uno llora para nosotros
aunque esté en el brazo de un cariño

Algunas veces me pregunto otra vez
Aunque sé que no puedo contestar

La boda

Despacio se mueve
Más que el caracol
Esta mañana cuando el sol
Rápidamente se mueve

Cantar ya ha empezado
El sol, todavía no ha empezado
La ceremonia de la boda
Y ya está en la iglesia el novio

Para esperar a la novia,
Para terminar la lluvia
Que ha prevenido a la novia
De encontrarse a su novio

Pasa el momento para la ceremonia
De boda, su sentimiento todavía
No puede controlar, es inútil aunque
Se pueda regresar la mano del reloj

Tengo que esperar sin terminar
Hay que continuar sufriendo
Hasta que llegue la novia
Para que empecemos a divertirnos

El corriente mensual

Cuantas veces se sufrirá de estos,
El dolor y la inquietud que nunca se creó
Pero deben ser sufridos como una imposición
Para siempre mientras tenga la vida.

Quizás cuando caigan los huevos ovales
En la sartén en el fuego estén riquísimos
pero qué crimen se ha cometido
cuando se ande sin encontrar a alguien
Para romper el huevo.

Qué doloroso e inquieto
Cuando salga en el rojo
Y contamine todo lo que se encuentra.
El corriente como un chocolate caliente del fuego.

Como si fuera para siempre,
una nos ha nacido en
Este dolor y esta inquietud
Ayudando la muerte de nuestros hijos
Antes de que sus pies se desarrollen.

Como si fuera para siempre,
se nos ha nacido en
este dolor y este inquietud
Para ser débil y para hacerse
Blanca, nuestra piel.

Una teme sentarse por tiempo largo
Cuando llegue cada mes abierto,
Que contamine a todo lo que se encuentra.

Tales malos crimen de muerte
Se miran y se aceptan en el mundo
Porque no se podría romper su huevo
Si nadie lo hiciera.

Gracias mamá

En tu útero no me quedaba nunca
Mi primera luna no viste nunca,
Nunca mi primer andar en la tierra
Pero tu amor maternal no me refrenaste nunca:

Un amor que nunca se hizo frio
En un lugar en mi corazón que no se negó nunca.
Nunca se completará mi vida sin ti

Nunca habrá una casa en un lugar sin ti
Nunca he abandonado esta casa por ti
Porque nunca se te puede reemplazar allá
Y la razón por qué: nunca te puedo dejar de decir gracias.

celosa

… cuando se permite una vez.

Me parece que se oye con amistad aún
Se ven los resultados de estos
como un daño tan serio.

Eso es lo que hace celosa cuando
llamo tu nombre y doy su descripción;
destruyó todo lo que hemos creado,

toda nuestra conversación delicada,
todos nuestros secretos salieron
para causar mucha pena y dolor.

Eso sí qué es, una palabra sólo y
me parece se oye con amistad pero
se ve las resultados de estos
como daño y dolor tan grave.

El deseo para hablar contigo,
lo que hay que decir y el temor de esto
me hacen un prisionero sin una cárcel.
Celosa viene y se va,

celosa por breve momento solo
pero nada puede dejarla a celosa
cuando se permite una vez.

ESTÉ TRANQUILO

Esté tranquilo y habla conmigo,
no oculte ninguno.
tenga calma y dígame
porque está esperando mis espaldas
que no han oído ningún llanto
ni se ha absorbido ninguna lágrima.
Hace muchos años han quedado
tiernas y blandas para recibirle

¡Oh! esté tranquilo y hable conmigo.
¿Pueden continuar como así,
silencioso y solo,
Cuando están temperamentales
fingen estar felices y alegres,
muy rápido para hacerse enfadados,
no permiten la comida,
dan un suspiro profundo y frecuente
no permiten los consuelos de amantes y amados
y olvidan la importancia de la vida?
¿Cuánto se prolongará
cuando ideas de la muerte
se imprimen en la mente?
luego se morirá y ya no vivirá
Olvidando que lo que intentamos evitar
quedaría cuando se muera.
Entonces, por qué no se resolverá
mientras se quedan a ser fieles
y los enemigos quedan lejos de ti;
mientras los problemas quedan en el estado de brotar
y se necesitará poco esfuerzo para resolver;
aunque falte de las palabras
y no sepa dónde empezar,
sólo abre tu boca con cualquier sonido:
este tranquilo, hable, lo seguiré.

NUNCA DIGA ADIÓS

Me dijo que fue para siempre
Me dijo que no me dejará.
¿Cόmo puede desaparecer la memoria?
Arranca el corazόn
cuando se conversa el dolor
profundo con la tristeza y
Cuando a mi ayuda nadie viene.
Ahora es la hora y se debe decir adiós.
Pronto uno zarpa a la mar,
Con la vela para cruzar;
El avión por el aire;
El coche por la calle.
Cuando esté lejos
El invierno y la lluvia durarán
El silencio roba a los árboles sombreados
La luz del cielo se traga
Y la noche sombra se consagra.
Se apartarían los amantes
Recuérdeme cuando este lejos
Por favor, o lindo, por favor
Recuérdeme cuando vuelva
No olvide, vuélvame
¿Me volverás? ¡Ah, no diga adiós!
Se le esperará, ¡Ah, nunca diga adiós!

NOCHE SOMBRA

Pronto la canciόn del sol se oirá
con la luz blanca que dirige,
se despeja la noche sombra
sale corriendo mi noche sombra
al lugar que no puede volverme.

Pronto mi felicidad
que se me guarda bajo llave
en las profundidades del océano,
que nadie puede verla menos
el pescado y sus ojos encendidos.

Pronto estarán listos los buzos
para ir a socorrer han perdido
la pista de la ruta marítima
unas guardias, las olas.


Entre las cosas con el habla
me puse a cubierto y cuando
se me encontrό
el sol mi amigo enseguida
cediό descansar.

Solo se quedaba
Tranquilo y calmado
Pero en ello mismo
una confusiόn ruidoso
Esperando a explotarse.

Pronto el invierno vio al verano
Pronto el otoño vio a la primavera
No me vieron y no me oyeron...
Huya mi noche, mi oscuridad
Permita mi felicidad, como canta el sol pronto.

QUÉ TERRORÍFICO

Qué miedo horroroso enfrente del pistolera
Entrando en un accidente de tráfico
Mirando a un cariño que se está ahogando
Qué espantoso mira su cara brilla
Qué terrible
Revelando
El secreto
Qué horrible
No está seguro
Si le ama
Qué temeroso
su respuesta
Qué miedoso
para decir
te quiero.

YA ES LA HORA

Ya ha cacareado el gallo;
Ya ha pasado del sol el rayo.
¡Vayamos! Alejandrinos,
Traigan las azadas y los machetes;
Ya es la hora de cosechar.

LA SOLEDAD

Me sigue por la noche y el día,
Como una amada celosa que
quiere vengarse de un esposo
que le ha dejado, sus orejas no
están cansadas de escucharme
la conversación secreta, me mira
en el cuarto encerrado con ojos

que no se satisfacen nada de
verme, me habla cuando
están lejos mis amigos.
A veces para consolarme otras
veces para molestarme
Está feliz cuando no
están cerca de mí. Me ayuda

muchas veces para reflejarme
y descansarme. Puede ser
peligroso si le tenga miedo
nadie le desea pero pasa baja
de la puerta encerrada. Quien
puede echarla de aquí, ¡soledad!
nadie le desean.

that wasn't the first time
my heart pumped deep
and my hurt left deepened
this time for good
after the pain, ordeal and agony

all alone i bore it
when i needed her most
my head raised to the heavens
in a quest for a solution
alone with my hands which stood by me
with fingers crossed to watch

memories at their peak never ceased
my breath faster than ever
like a whisper it was heard
only those who will believe

a knock on the door
with a look in her piercing eyes
with that feign of a cheerful smile
all was gone with the bank on the door

a cry was heard ,'my lost love'
as hands jumped to hold
and legs stretched but glued to the ground
all gone my love
never to return again

Men and pajeros

Why do the evil and wicked laugh
As the poor cry and weep
They laugh at the poor
After leaving the paths and boulevards
without tarred and in red, covering the
eyes and cloths with the red earth
Oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

Why are there no schools that we
Can afford, that we can boast of its
Quality. Why are there many places
of abode for students yet could not
find places to sleep than sharing a bed
or under the sky and open air.
Oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

Why did the stranger left a vast land
after building our schools and hospitals
and our people sell them for their selfish
gains and at an ugly song and dance? Why
has the stranger left a vast land for our final
resting place and our people sell them
wanting to still dig their bones to make more
room for their buying and selling?
Oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

Why can’t we stuff the hospitals with
materials? Why should our pregnant
women deliver and be held in chains
because they can’t settle their expense?
Why do we belittle our traditional healers
even those who have been licensed to
practice under hygienic conditions? Why will
they always destroy these place left for the poor
Oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

Why do we pay our monthly donations to
these foundations and their services are
outrageous and unaffordable? Why do we pay
our health insurance and it could only take care
of ailments we can even treat? Why do we
belittle those who take care of our lives and
watch them leave to foreign countries ? At the
end the poor suffers and they only laugh their
hearts out: Oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

Why do we destroy what they have used their
strength and blood to build and not found other
means to resettle them and their properties?
Why are turning all who want to genuinely work
into robbers and their children into sluts and hors,
vagabonds who walk the streets, who will graduate
into beggars and create no haven but jungle?
All in the name of filth and hygiene and not work.
Oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

Why do our farmers now want to also sell
on the streets when we have arable lands
lying waste and we hunger? rivers divide us
into boundaries yet we thirst and search
for water? why do we drink colourful,
odourful, and tasty water from our
taps while there are institutions and
boards to control and regulate? if not
for wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

O their cries rise up into the skies into heaven
Because man refuse to do something unless
The wind with its rushing sound there into the
arms of the maker it goes, ever ready to be
embraced who will put things anew. Soon will
be no more, their strength too, who will fail them,
a lashing rod ready for them before joining their
maker for a gnashing of teeth, there you will be:
oh wicked and evil men who sit in
their pajeros and splash muddy waters
on them that walk the dusty path.

The blue bird

The blue bird
Trees, branches… fly !
Not away but towards the sky
Leave the green grasses and
dry shrubs and fly my blue bird.
The rising sun rings its bell
And the branches bow down
To the sound of the majestic bell,
Making every hill plain and
brightening every dim light.

Into the nest of the pear tree
Which has been made, already into
a safe haven away from the fire at
noon day and the predator at night for
the branches are held hand in hand across
a street, a shield for our nestlings

fly my blue bird
gird your loins with strength
and fly quick for the pear fruit lie ripe
and desolate only for the bats and crows.
Fly quick my blue bird
For the scorching sun will last for long,
And I wait as your nest lie without warmth.

The party before the dark

Soon across will fly
The crows to receive a share of
The golden sun’s ore
With a smile into their treasure vault

Soon the brothers of the sky too
Together a party full of smiles
The vocal songs of kwa-kwa to
Usher in the dark and moon light

The passing cloud

Moments spent with you
Are like the brightness
Just before the clouds cover the sun:
Very gentle, pleasing and short;
Allowing the showers to be opened
On the poor earth just to flood it.

One searched that light
that brightened his dark being
remembering where one comes from
and where he once lived, his abode
with the light, which also covered
him like a strong metal shield.

Those rays that one searched
To replace that beam, that brightness
Just before the rain,
remained far away
until eyes met the telescope,
which brought it nearer.

One expects
that it will live With us, not
like those others: the short lived
lightning splashes that ushers in
the trumpet sound
of the clasp of thunder

if it were a gift, I would replace it
with another precious one
if it were a poem, I would write
its lines unending; if it were a song,
it would be sang with an orchestra,
which will ever live in the mind

oh wretched soul that I have become
for not being able to keep the light
after piercing through me. But allowed it
to move out into the deep dark and
making me lonely, cold and without
purpose only to see and hear them, the bats.

Close your eyes and make a step
And you’ll know how it feels depending
on people, to be led by strangers and those
who will mock you at the end. They near
you because of what they get from you.
Oh wretched soul that I am.

From the distance a thick rain clouds
Approaches and it sends shivering, from
the heel to the scalp. Now that the trade winds
are blowing I could not tell how soon they
will arrive to cover the beam that I have found.
Oh wretched soul that I’ll become.

A sale in grief

As it drops from yours into mine
Like an over flown sink, another
One immediately enters
To maintain the flowing current.
Even if it be withheld, a deduction
To make you a debtor,
one will not be still
prone to any disease

The signs of the heart
their eyes capture,
The least movement and
their legs and feet respond:
a phone call in the bus,
a hand in the bag;
a response from their feet
thinking it was for a purchase.

Fast he came for a sale,
a response to a phone call it was…
yet their haste
for a change of mind after the bid…
sends him away in grief.

Men and the dark

Fast, the night, the dark…
they returned; men, women
and children as if for safety –
running away from the brothers:
the night and the dark.
All other places are made desolate
For all moral activities; like a chase
It came, the gentle fearful dark
With only a dim eye light to see
Through the thick cloudy dark.

In the morning the cloud, they scatter
around with the friendly sun which
burns their skin and blinds their eyes
-- those who hate them as they walk,
Side by side with them,
next to them they sit—
public buses, greetings, smiles
-- in the night and dark they hide
underneath their hair like lice
to get rid of their host.

Rude, you!

You are rude
rude even on Sundays.
I am not talking to you
I am talking to you, yes you.

I don’t mind fighting
the bravest man.
I could still survive
in the fore front
of the battle field

I could walk on hot coals
And sit on thorny seats
Yet I cannot stand it
When you are rude

You whom circumstances
Left on my shore
And I almost killed myself
To protect and preserve.
You , I can’t stand if you be rude.

Chocolate love

She stabbed me
In the back she did
With her sharp edged words
her poisonous response,
Saying that I am not her friend:

The friend that I thought I was,
That I have jealously guarded,
Keeping all that I now have lost.

It is gone
Gone with the wind,
Its rushing sound
So furious it winded

Sweeping away the leaves
Of the tree of love
All because

I failed to grant a wish
A wish beyond my power
Now I suffer to end it all
The fact that I never
Ever dreamt it will be now

The fire track

Pii …
Whose luck it is
This help, to receive
Pii-poo pii-poo
Smoke so thick
A crunchy and dry thatch
Pii-poo pii-poo
A hail from the crowd
Their arrival at the ground
Pii-poo pii-poo
All gone the thatch
With the passing fire
Pii-poo pii-poo
Because the track
no water had
… poo

Cry with me

I will cry with you
I will share your tear
I will soften you pain
But don’t come closer
My hands like the scorpion
Has no panacea for its bite

I will cry with you
I will share your tears
I will soften your pains
But don’t look at me
My countenance like the gong-gong
Will make you cold as stone

I will cry with you
I will share your tears
I will share your pains
But never think it’s well,
All with me, when I have
only put you first.

Your life

As many express it deeply,
Others say it is a dream
That could be nice or bad,
looking real until it dims.

No matter how long one had
To explore, It will stand still.
When meaningless, then
it is soon forgotten.

So your life my life
For a meaningful dream:
Good deeds that will ride
In the minds, dreams
That would tarry
Till the end of time.

Noisy peace

Their noise raises you up from bed
Their noisy fall waters the tendrils
Their noisy croaking divides the night

In noise the birds seek their mates,
The goats as well as the elephant,
the carpenter’s workshop, where the

hot metal strikes against the anvil.
The tooting horns on the streets,
The sparking of the motor engine,

The hawk to catch a chick,
the hen to protect the running chick,
their noise, all through their noise

The kiss

Not clothing not shoes
But kindness but faithfulness
Not seen but felt only
When close to her only.

When you are far from her
You miss her dearly
Venus shines in her eyes
Marks the glassy night
And the glorious day.

One can search the dark night
Which into a bright day
Her shiny eyes turn.

Like the smell of wine
When around and with her
Her honey lips one taste
To awake but for a dream
So unforgettable her kiss
So irresistible t become immortal

BROKEN PROMISES

My eyes cry because of
What my mouth want to say;
What my ears have heard
and become sad because the
promise was not fulfilled.

Making people happy

It feels good to make
People happy than hate
Them, and not coming close
To them; opposing everything
that comes from them.

You need to have perseverance
Because they value not you
But that act of deliverance
That comes from within you.
The reason their want to stay,
And the reason they be nice to you.

All the people to make happy
Only few of them became happy
As I still try and never stop
But they appreciate not your toil
Rather those who will not
leave them straight but in a coil

several people tried I to give
few people succeeded I to give
as I tried hard to give
the little that I have,
all, I had to give.

LOVE INFECTIONS

Cut my two legs
And I will still walk by you.
Plug out my tongue
And I will not cease talking to you.

If only she knows...

I wish it’s true
That you feel the same too
But I fear your response
And will listen to nothing
So don’t open your mouth

Just allow this feeling
To go on and on
O let it go on
Like a car without breaks
Stopping when it can go no more

Once, twice and more
Have I been on this road
Seeing the fall and wanting to roam
Through, because of this feeling
Which I am feeling

It was deep
But now no more than fear
The fear to lose you
The fear that you’ll not be mine,
That you’ll be gone

Let the darkness sleep
And not wake
Let the dark sky shut
its light, let the blowing wind
seize because I am afraid,

Scared, a brave man
That I am , a coward
that I have been because of love.
Leave me, leave me in my joy,
keep your response.

Truth is bitter , yes !
Bitter than hiding In
my ignorance, yet
I’ll prefer to be in joy now
And for always, with you in my
Ignorance, than without you in truth.

You will break my heart
Because I love you.
You will break my heart
If you don’t love me too,
If you don’t understand me,
If you live for yourself
and forget we are two;
not welcoming varieties
nor different ideas and views;
not wanting to solve
but put the blame on one;

Please don’t cry else they hear,
the room and those outside it;
else they see, the hidden treasure
in between your teeth: more precious
than has
ever been seen by man

Please don’t ask any more
for a cue of lies climb through
my throats and floods the mind;
will break the heart
because you love me.

Much talking has never
helped, much crying worsened
the situation, hasty conclusions
like fuel in fire, will explode,
always breaking your crying heart.

I watched her again
as she came back again.
she looked up as if to talk to me
And those eyes that opened
To greet me, whispered the chorus:

‘It’s ok, you can tell me anything’
At a glance I wanted to answer,
To tell her all that I felt
but I was speechless
because I have said it all.

If what is done and ended
will forever be thus,
I will love her, a thousand times
I will, for always I’ll do,
Just for her alone.

As i finished my words
and my drops of sorrows
all lie soaked in my
unseen garment that i wore
and guarded jealously.
...preceded her appearance,
the breeze, then that of her carriage
proceeded it all.

A motionless body, has lost its life,
its warmth too like water
chilled in a vessel of earth;
as her carriage full of motion
after the take off.

she who leaps to hag
and leans when cannot cling,
freed her last imprisoned words:
"good bye", in a blink.

My response,far gone before,
one that should not be heard by her
because i couldn't let go
as i partly remained
in this moment of shock
wondering if would ever she return.

Good bye
You told me it was forever
You told me you’ll never leave me
How can memories fade out
Like a blue jeans, which has lost
its colour out of frequent washing
o don’t say good bye
else my heart faint when
sorrow nears my tent and
none to my rescue comes.

yet now is the hour that
I must say good bye

Soon I sail far across the sea
When you are gone
my winter will be long,
silence swallows the whispers
under the shady trees.
The night sky will need no light
friends would be gone
lovers could be lost
O please remember me
when you return?
You’ll find me waiting here.
Will you return to me?
O don’t say good bye.
O never say good bye.

Respect

Everyone has a gift...
It matters not his habitation
It matters not his origination
Remember however little, someone needs it

But it is human when they err
Hide not but aid them
Fight not but change them
Remember we all have our faults

We live to give
They live and we gain
They leave and we lose
Remember the whole world loses

So remember whoever we are, remember
Whatever we do, wherever we are …
We must remember to respect ourselves
Everyone has a gift respect it

Years gone by

It is just like years gone by
In the moonlit night
Sheep and dogs lay thinking
From a glance the smell of peace
But how can the prey feel safe amidst its pursuer?

It is just like years gone by
In the moonlit night
All seated and warmed by the tribe’s fire
Listening to stories of yesteryears
O how can we tell of our fall in the land of the enemy?

It is just like years gone by
in the moonlit night
the blind beggar held on confidently to his boy
into a ditch they all fell
o how could he knew his boy dozed off at each step

but it is just like years gone by
o in the moonlit night
but I can see two lovers in a straw thatch
who were exposed when dim light turned bright
how can their fantasy blindfold their eye of care

How many? how may?

… How many…?
How many times should I ask
before you know I need it?
How many times will say I love you
before you know I mean what I say?
How many children will carry loads and hawk
before you know that living conditions are high?

How many flooding will occur
before you know gutters are silted?
How many wars will occur
before we learn to settle our disputes?
How many times will one react in anger
before you know he cannot stand it?

How many times will I suffer pain
before you realize I am human?
How many deaths will you see
before you respect the sanctity of life?
How much disappointment is needed
before you learn to trust yourself?
How many …? How many…?

At the peak terrible times are forgotten

At the peak,
terrible times are forgotten;
on the water surface,
jagged rocks are hidden below;
in the midst of roses
thorns are found;
in the midst of friends
enemies find their hide out;
on the top of green leaves,
coloured flowers grow;
at the end emerges death and
at the end of death begins life.

tears flow from our eyes

Just a few tarred road
ahead with many dusty ones,
dirt as hot as a corn cob
in our nostrils and our throats,
like a sour and bitter feeling at once
talking about all these injustices.
Dust in our eyes, turning white
our black spot, blinding clearly
even those with thick lenses;
dirt that stains our only white linen
and never goes out if even
applied, the most powerful bleach.
Injustices like dirt fills the air
and almost seen everywhere.
Our bosom friends they pose,
a just course pretend they to uphold,
but deceit and injustice
born and bred by those
who claim to uphold these.
Tears from our eyes they pour,
more than water from a free fall
and suddenly want to swim in whatever
which came out from the poor.

The black and white birds

It is getting dark,
all was hungry,
the birds gathered under the black tree
for their last meal.
The white bird who climbed up
first ate a fruit
and tore the best of the rest
for those on the ground
until they were satisfied.

It is getting dark,
all was hungry,
the birds gathered under the black tree,
the birds to feed.
A black bird who climbed up
first, ate the best of the fruit
and dropped the rest with the worst
after a plea from those on the ground
and until he was full alone.

Time

It clicks without stopping,
all met it, all left it; It marks their
beginning, their end; It might seem too
long when we are to wait for it; It
might also seem short when we
end our enjoyment.
It has answers to our
problems: mending the broken
hearted, the poor becomes rich, the family
becomes a nation, and giving us hope
when the situation is bad.
Who is this? So powerful,
So helpful so feared yet does not
Speak nor have a body; does not move yet
one will always wonder why it is
everywhere; and for how long,
time will always tell.

The missing dance

On their owner’s compound they stayed
And danced to the flute he played
Early in the morning they stayed
As he got ready from where he had lain
In the night under the stars for that day

Around they played in the morning light
They bathed when the branch top suddenly lighted
They flame of danger descending with their noise on high
The noise of the flying caretakers and watchers
Who had seen their flying mate, the devourer.

In haste he flew to fill his plates
Its diamond eyes turned green with hate
As he flew in search a chick to take
And sorrowful the darling hen to make
After the scare of her chicks in that haste

The noise of the little birds came down
As their tiny bodies never touched the ground
The caretakers and watchers of the poor fowl
Blew their trumpets a warning to sound
The untimely death which they frowned

A quick shelter she took after the scare
Under the shade of the tree branches a crowd,
Full of sheep goats and fowls
With the other neighbors and their children to care
Seeing the desperate hawk descend from the clouds

A mother’s tender care never grew dim but bright,
Showed the way when danger starred at the face,
Daring all threats outside the shade
With her whole soul an offering to replace
Her delicate and innocent ones with her life

Out of the shelter
Was she, her chicks and the devourer,
In amazement they scattered around,
Her neighbours starred and watched
As if glued to the ground

An attack from the hawk
A defense from the hen
In the air they met
In a crash after the clash
A battle of survival to fight

In the air away from the hen
The hawk quickly turned,
Again a scatter of cheeks rushing into the shade,
the little birds, their caretakers ,
their noise higher again

a sweep for a chick in an attack,
away into the air again,
the hen has lost again;
bloodless wounds from previous attacks
which for year has accumulate and remained

cries for those victims for years
now like echoes in her ears
the kwi kwi-kwi kwi of her chicks
which has turned bread full of cheese
for the enemies and his kits and keens

he got home when all was
gathered by the hen under the shade, all was
like a funeral gathering full of awe,
a gathering of his goats sheep and fowls
and their silent mournful songs

the sun has long gone down,
the bats and their songs have gone up
in the morning his flute he played
the missing chick , the missing dance
before the normal journey he makes

The shoe

If can only you ask
and answers to questions have
then we’ll understand the shoe
the awkward looking slope
of its dying sole.

Always he had been
A humble servant to his master
Wherever he wished, to places
Wherever he needed to be
His life he gained
The moment one freed him from
The enclosed walled store
To form part of his domain
A part of his body
A servant of the noble feet.

All he saw:
the rich and their lascivious spending,
on parties and celebrations he saw,
on VIP seats he sat and danced
with the famous and well-known,
the most beautiful and handsome,
those whose words either stood
for or against the world.

His appearances on the scenes
described and maintained the status
of his master to the world if he came
sparkling white with the rays of the sun.
unlike those who fell on different soil,
had to breathe in the stale smell and foul
odour from rotten poor feet,
had to get squeezed by heavy and fat feet,
supporting a body like it on top .

several days it could stay
without polish or ordinary brush’s caressing
on its soft and gentle skin.
Who will believe his story
In homes where his passage is through
The droppings of food and animals left
Scattered around, and left to rot;
In places where his wounds
stayed for years without stitches,
No matter how deep they may be.

So if can only you ask
and answers to questions have
then you’ll understand the shoe
the awkward looking slope
of its dying sole.

The faceless assassins

it began right there in the womb
even before their fluids met ,
the war of the faceless assassins
of fathoms that have no boundaries
which multiplies with time
enemies without swords
but cuts and wounds deeply on the
battle field of the mind

there we were to fight to the end,
and if we lose , an end of survival
of good. Here the sun will not rise
till one awakes and feels it is not
reel and if we win, only for a brief
moment before a replacement
of another twice or even more
formidable than it has already been

we fight with our instincts and wits
and all that nature has bestowed on
us seen and unseen even the Devine,
just to survive. How long to survive
Will depend on us and the maker:
Our carelessness, our ignorance,
Our perseverance, our obedience, all.

The harmatan

You who precede the rebirth of the old year
from the north and east you come
the earth to complete her rotation.
Across the Sahara you are blown
floating until your fall on her coast
full of energy and noise
full of gold and an ugliness
which soon is scattered, all apart.

So eager to be seen everywhere:
particles panting
and for air gasping
in a bid to escape
from the north east trade winds terrifying

passing,
the fertile ground loses its moisture
making
it bitter and sour for
growing
plants and crops when of its juice they taste .

A harrowing experience
oh trees who mourn
each time the winds pass
and leave your elderly at their mercy

oh tress who mourn
while animals thirst for water
when the oases are buried
and wells now shallow
only the sheer force of the air blows
A cattle cry precedes it all,
like a warning to vegetable farmers all,
to be alert of an eminent danger .

Our buildings need no paint
where our eyes fail to appreciate beauty
through the misty and foggy weather
this sense of thirst for paint we lose.

A voice which is never heard by our ears
when our eyes are lashed into tears
by the prevailing winds which have opened
the flood gates for a free flow of the nose
of mucus after hearing eyes, his brother cry.

It is six 'o' clock in the morning
but the night still looks young
and refuses to realize
that his grand children
have already taken over from him
while yet alive.
Men enjoy the night
and would wish the morrow never comes.
They go to work late trusting the weather;
when dark coloured skin becomes clear
and white when without a pomade on the skin.

with sand, our rooms are filled
as they fiercely penetrate our covering
the sieves, unaware like thieves
their passing in the broad day light
and in full glare of the eyes

Fruits ripe quickly
people with single cloth to wear
enter the bath after washing their cloths;
return from their bath,
their cloths already dry to wear.

Lips of the newest couple even suffer
from bleeding and cracking
through constant and accepted abuses,
all from the north east trade winds out there.
This nerve cracking experience
minimized when the sky is blue
finally waves bye; comes the cool night
with less hail and dusty winds.

Leaves are in a hurry to fall
the little brush from the air
both dry and green the fall
great pain from mothers
whose daily bread it is
to sweep off the rubbish
again and again on the street.

Little children cry
and class rooms becomes filled with ghost
because of the mild shocks they fear
within the chilly bathing weather.
Men are seen walking in coats
and at night buried in their blanket
even with their wives in their arms
during these winter nights in Accra.

Their shining cocoa butter lips
a sweet smelling savour give.
The prayer of lovers :
that the winds may last ;
but bachelors their stay regret
in an opportunity that will only rear
its beautiful head once, the whole year
when the dry air kisses all good bye.


By Emperor Leander David
26/03/2010

The king of the animals

Far far away came a time
When fire was hard to find
The king of the animals
The cock with the red crown
Became king because of the ever
Burning flame of its crown

Far far away he ruled
Away from men a palace
Guarded by the tiger and elephant
In majesty and in awe
He ruled because of the ever
Burning red flame of its crown

Far far away it rained
And all of earth became cold
The trees got soaked, killing
their fires in their huts, leaving
darkness in their eyes except the cock
and his ever burning red flame of its crown

far far away they came
a gathering to enter the palace
but for fear of the king who
sleeps because of the ever
burning red flame of its crown

far far away after the gathering
the tiger the most courageous
sent his daring son
into the palace to light
the fire from the ever
burning red flame of its crown

far far away an uproar
among the animals when
the emissary returned from his quest
to bring home their only hope
failing to light the light from the ever
burning red flame of its crown

far far away came an end to a reign
and life of a noble king an end to
so many years of deception; a scatter
of the royal family into the woods
because they could not light from the ever
burning red flame of its crown

nearer and nearer they came
from far far away into
the abode of men but never to forget
as they reechoed that night of
their departure through the
wild, a crow of their lost glory and crown

Night time scene

It was dark the night sky
with a few lighted stars
tiny they seemed from afar
across the sky where the bats flew,
to and fro they flew,
their piercing echoes,
their giggling and dancing followed
to see them run around
like a fun fare chase.
Then the noise within the gates
from the agile dogs around.
Towards the gates the barking the loudest
footsteps entered the opened gate
a rush like a chase towards the gate
on all four by the protector
who wigged its tail
to welcome him in a hail.
Their barking went out with the closing door
a hand at the inside door
opened up a noisy bout
noisier than the barking
whch filled the room like smoke
leaving slowly through the closed
door and glassy tinted windows
until all was said.
'Too late', one said before
at each other's throat they got
and too late too
to end the noisy show.
All was said by all
that which never pleased all
and the viewing senses.
Then the noise left behind
silence which made the room brighter
then darker when the lights went off.
Occasionally the barking
heard across the distance
transmitted by the soft breeze
which flaps its soft wings
to all passing by.
In this darkness one slept
to see the sun already smiling
when awaken by the birds singing.

The darkness

I quickly closed my eyes
In a flash to open
As I thought I will be
In heaven free from
The miseries of our time
But the dark night in there
I wept for those whom the light
could not be processed in their eyes
And though opened it is worth it closed

The darkness of today far out pass
The darkness the blind suffers each day
Darkness that hides the stars and the moon
That stays at noonday allowing the bats to fly
The foxes to ruin the vine
that spreads on the land from one corner
to the other as if with wings of an eagle
and legs of the hare
darkness that cannot be comprehended by the
brilliant and sharpest minds of our time
because our windows are not facing the sun

its seeds are every where
planted by the eyes and the ears
on the most fertile soil of the mind
watered by time with no specific
period to harvest: some our entire life
others the very day it was seen or heard.

They hate the dark the moment it sets
walking with flash lights so they don’t trip
or fall but when they get used to it
they threw away the flash lights
poured out the oil in their lamps and
left their candles in the wind
they , like a pot called the kettle black

this is what the darkness brings,
a wild wind which blows no one any good,
forgets friends who have ever been there.
Join forces with the enemy
against those it sought to protect.
unfulfilled and denied promises
and men are watched to die of thirst
when one man has access to the rivers and lakes

hunger has been created in the land of plenty
and poverty in the coast of gold
our children are turned to thieves and
robbers instead farmers and tin’s men

it kills our hope in broad day life and
our joy runs from our huts in tears not
wanting to return for fear of it.

The darkness that we allowed
And can fight when together
When each not to himself
But the one next to himself
When each will will as he
Wishes to himself for
It has come to stay and has issues
With our children but is that the
generation we wish to leave behind.

From afar my eyes can see across the hills
like tongues of fire , some households,
their flash lights they still have on with
dying batteries, their lamps are half full
but still burning and are still guarding
jealously their candles with their lives
though the wind sought to put out .

let us search the light bearers while
the dark last, turning our windows
into the direction of the sun so that
we can sing the song of joy with it
when it finally passes through.

Let us support the bearers of the light
in any way even the little matters.
Our hope rest on them.

Let us also learn to live with their light
Teaching our children born in the dark
to leave the dark and in the light
it will flee from , darkness, until the
morning comes when the sun passes singing.

Our gift

Your presence around me for long
has been like a gift,
a precious and valuable gift
that I will trade for no man
not even for Solomon and all his
irresistible charming countenance
and will replace with nothing
not even for the rich lilies in bloom
at moonlit night.

A glory I share not with any, less you.
Out of this gift comes the most loveliest fragrance
like one coming from the
hanging gardens of Babylon,
looking as formidable, high as the pyramids at Giza
and like the light house at Alexandria,
has never failed to bring home to shore
my boat of care even under the most turbulent waves.

A gift I cannot quantify and would want
to wear around me everyday,
its colourful shades like a girdle at noonday.
A gift full of understanding which has fulfilled today
our promise of yesterday
and would last through out
all times if we keep on keeping on:
that we’ll always be faithful.

Many years has passed

So many years of toil and gloom
Has passed before the opening of what
Now echoes from the tombs as bloom
From the grave and around it,
what once blew of foul and obscene
now smiles clearly with cheers
so happy as the new day sun

so many years of crying and wailing:
many waters our eyes have lost
from its permanent home in its host;
when all hope was lost
and the very essence of existence roam
outside our doors and far from reach;
so cool and calm, now as if nothing has happened.

So many years of silence,
When fear wrapped one like mummy in the pyramids
Not to preserve but shake and tear up
The very foundation on which our happiness stood
And it came out
When all never expected the voice to sound
From the mouth when it got opened.

So many years had passed when the
Ugly terrifying noise was heard and
How to act when legs were paralyzed and
What to say when jaws were locked was an issue.
As the day roll by one watched and observed,
Waiting to be set free from all
By one with the best manners of all.

so sad

So sad
So sad I only saw it pass by
and never saw it blossom.

So sad I only called
when was miles away to listen.

So sad I fell from my house in the clouds
when I went searching for you.

So sad I only found moments when all
was tired and could do nothing.

So sad I only feel what I feel
and no one else the same

So sad I only have to tell it knowing
nothing good will come out of it.

So sad you will read it when
all was over and done with.

So sad I have to end these lines
to make myself happy because I am

so sad I only saw it pass by
and never saw it blossom.

Years gone by

It is years gone by
in the moonlit night,
sheep and foxes lie thinking;
From a glance, the smell of peace
but how can the prey feel safe amidst its pursuer?


It s years gone by
in the moonlit night ,
all seated and warmed by the evening’s fire;
listening to stories of yester years
but can we tell of the fall in the hand of the enemy?

It is just like years gone by
in the moonlit night,
the blind beggar held on confidently to his boy,
into a ditch they all fell.
O can he know his boy dozes off at each step?

It is just like years gone by
in the moonlit night,
two lovers, their straw thatch burning,
were exposed as their dim light turned bright.
O how can their fantasy blind fold their eye of care?

the day of our heroes

This is the day
Today the noise of battle ends
The victory song fills the air
The old warrior’s name sinks into our ears
But nowhere to hear them chant it

Today there was something in the sky
The clouds were dark and moon red
The warrior knows best
But to give his people a leader

Today all our cream of soldiers fell
With him a thousand broken limbs
With the scream and shout
Today gives his people victory

Today his achievements float on the earth
Today his body sinks below the earth
Today his soul joins the heroes
Today the heavens open for our hero

...when you feel like going on

It happened again
And this time could not be forgotten
Pride has settled so one has fallen
When you hope for happiness
And came passing by sadness
Staring right at you to quit
When you feel like going on

the kola fruit

It went up so early
In the morning
Before the birds began to sing
And stars disappeared;

This is for no one to see
His curious deep digging.

The kola fruit was going waste
having no one to protect it
yet they climb the tree
To save their dear life.

How easily our love turns hate

Everything is difficult to attain
Yet so easily we seem to lose them
So is love which grows
You need patience in getting you’re your goal
No love develops without it
Your haste could earn you disappointment
No love turns hate with sturdiness
Just like anything at the top without care
It falls easily and damages totally without repair
You nurture love much with time and hate sets in no time
It all disappear and without a trace
As if it never even happened
Yet still strive to get to the top
And everybody wants to be in love
When how to remain there is a mystery

the monthly flow

How long will we bear this
pain and restlessness that
we never caused but bear.
May be crushing their oval eggs
in a frying pan tastes edible but
what crime has one committed
to suffer not finding one
to crush her oval eggs?
What pain and restlessness we bear
which comes out in red
tainting all that it meets .
The flow like an opened pipe as
hot as a corn cob out of the fire.
Forever we’ve been born
into this restlessness and pain
abetting the murder of our babes
before their feet they gained .
Forever we’ve been born
into this restlessness and pain
to feel weak and pale
fearing to sit for long
as each month comes along;
all because no one yet
has crushed our oval eggs.
Birds will themselves crush their eggs
with their beaks or warmth,
to destroy or bring out their kind;
we sit and watch our children die
out of us every time.
Such heinous crime of murder,
watched and accepted the world over,
because we cannot crush our oval eggs
if no one else did it.

The new year

Every time the sun goes down our
Moon changes its shapes each night
And will set-in what will usher in
the new year ; like a match pass
they will come along the dusty roads
into where the hazy winds will blow.
There in their nostrils they will be,
Placidly amidst the noise and haste
Beside a scramble for goats and fowls:
Alive or sick or tiny they can be for their
Blood only, which is shed happily for a celebration
On the poor soil who only mourns the sad death
Of a fellow creature like himself.
A bloodless fight of fork and knife
Over who to enter mouth
And their struggle to enter mouth
Is heard as they wait for the clap
Of the poor and helpless plate on the table.
Into the air sounds of rockets
And blurring from loudspeakers
keep the noisy awake on guard
a worthless fortune , an invaded castle
of the placid as they lie in wait,
wishing the night to pass by.
When all is over , the bloody
Joyful moment is remembered with
The lips and told by the proud;
How they caused t mourn, the ground
While the silent moon and sun consoled.

Lizy Hammond

Early in the morning
before the sun got dressed
in its regalia ready to work,
the phone rang to make another
count of the falling green leaf:
fresh full of moisture and luster,
a splendor more luminous than
the flower.

It wasn’t the first that ever fell green,
Two more had already been captured
by the eye, all green they fell to add
to the countless brown dried leaves
scattered under our watch whose
crunching song our feet sang, an
untimely moment, an unbelievable
scene an unfinished race to men of
good will.

Although not like the others that fell,
will soon be like them: all those the
ripper visited, harvesting their joy and
love and their all; leaving pain and hurt
and hopelessness behind, bloodless
wounds that would not heal for the rest
of our days before another visit, an
untold visit, once, to us all.

Two lovers

They walked in peace although the world
around them, knew not they: as they
were guided by the sight of the mind and
the heart, hand in hand they walked ,
with one leading the way, two blind lovers
they were, descending the stairs.

They smiled at each other as if they could
see each other’s smile as they chart along the
Path way in their own world of love which they
felt because they only believed; regardless
of the beauty of the eye : ugly or pretty.

Under the shade of the dark sky lighted by the
flame of the fire burning from within them,
brightening their path, two lovers walking side
by side, apart from each other as their eyes looked
at the different sceneries and heard,
their ears, the romantic parting song
of the thorn birds.

On their way up stairs, two blind
lovers in harmony with each other,
arms entwined, following the echo
Of the sound of those passing by:
their guide and guard; from an unseen
point to a known destination dodging
all on their way with care, arriving
safely at the top.

España

Ah land in the sky
across the sea
and beyond the desert,
there as far as my eyes can see
is where I would want to be.

We’ve heard of you España
before you passed through Accra.
Your freedom from the moors
by the help of your monarchs
Castilla and Aragón will forever be
the light in your two eyes: her beloved
daughter Isabél and Fernando her noble son.

With wings of an eagle you
rose from your ashes like the phoenix.
Your descovery of the new world
brought gold to your coast making you
richer and a world power.

O España, we heard of you,
of your famous Franco .
Ghana heard of you when Julia
landed on her soil, the green and
golden soil, leaving behind Semana
Cervantes: a celebration which unites
the two of us; leaving behind Lope
de Vega: what promotes your culture
and language; leaving behind Carracol:
the medium to free our minds
and share our rich identity.

Ah España, when will we be with you?
Ah land in the sky
across the sea
and beyond the desert,
here as far as our eyes have seen
is where we would want to be .
España, we’ve heard of you ,
when will we be with you?

… I am, to form

A soul I am, empty and
Motionless until I receive
My bride from where
it has been lain asleep
for ages, a spirit form
which becomes one with
me, a living soul to form;

a joint I am, soft and
immobile until I receive in
my house a distinguished
guest who will abide
with me, hard and mobile
a bone of my skeleton to form;

a thought form I am,
and driven by the will,
a vehicle which runs faster
than the deer in chase of the
intents of the heart,
like flesh it takes a garb
to materialize into a concrete form;

a woman I am , into this world
I came to search for him
whom I have longed for
even before I was
born, the route to his
home lies within me, to
master the world he had formed.

My kind

My ears could not bear the noise ahead,
Stranger! as he turned.
He was running,
Run for your life!
As he passed me by.

A few steps forward another one of his kind,
at his heel to escape,
But one leg broken;
how far can this lizard go?
It looked at me quickly,
as if to say, not of his kind!

Avery rough, black stretched hard mat,
another with yellow wings laid,
so beautifully laid by death;
who told you he pities the beautiful.

The dusty winds blew,
among them the dry and green leaves;
in any direction they went
only at the mercy of the wind.

That afternoon on that lonely road,
alone I passed accompanied by their songs:
birds of different colours and sizes,
all flew backward as if to warn me.
The echoes of their song made me afraid
as I neared them, my heart beat faster,
almost came out but my ribs my support,
I controlled myself.

Man my kind, cut their brother with a saw,
destroyed his children with a harrow:
Not anymore the united members of the family;
Not anymore but huge buildings and streets.

The rains returned

It is raining, the grasses
The crops and trees smiling,
The ground in mourning,
Having to swallow more than enough.
Like a heated machine the sky
Full of dark clouds
All wanting to fall on
The plants and animals alike.

It took a smile at people
Preparing to end their work
At the markets and on the streets
Running to their destinations
Holding their breast
with Anything to cover their hair
holding their pockets
so they fall not off .

They destroy buildings, lengthening the course
leaving deep covered drains silted
reducing drain sizes to rounded tunnels
water then runs up our throats
and rubbish moves through it
like a chocolate cornflake drink
taking along anything on its course
Not to the sea and lake but rooms and streets.

Their prayer to soon get to their destination
To soon stop the rain
But under a tree
To hide their wet cloths
The sun, sun, yes! the sun
It’s heard, his name every where
On every lips like a saviour of the day
When it finally shows up

It’s soon forgotten his deed
When the earth dries up and
For ages thirst for water
When rooms sweat and
vapour rises into the sky
Their plea like a constant prayer
Which will not be refused
Then the dark clouds to rain again.

The funeral drums

The funeral drums had long passed
And our memories still sounded echoes in air
The land has been bright quiet and fair
It has enjoyed calm without a cry
and they wish it were forever
never to return home again

From afar held his stick higher the drum beater
His drum close to the ground preparing to sound
Beating its skin it’s true
Another death but whom
The last time it was outside my neighbourhood
Today inside my house yet whom
My mother followed my dad into the grave but my wife
I could hear, her voice hollowed and worn out
She weeps like never before

Sh..!! Sh..!! The name she screams
Like... Baboni her son, my son
Ah..! Oh no! Not my son!
It cannot be true
Strong he was when I left
Thirty years ago I left,
Then a baby my son,
now a pity my son
not to see you but your corpse

We search and search

You search for your privacy
and you’ll have loneliness.
You search for love
and you’ll split with hate.
You search for a man
and you’ll have a beast by you.
You search for a woman
and you’ll have a ghost when needed.
You search for success
And you’ll not endure to the end.
You search for peace
and you’ll fight without a cause.
You search for long life
And you’ll destroy your body.
You search to be a leader
and you’ll refuse to serve.
You search for everything
and you’ll settle at nothing.

The useful past

When what is happening trembles
one wishes for the impossible,
we wish to have around
people when miles away,
we wish to bring back the past
which lies buried in the present.

When everything is in place
we lose our guard and play:
failing to value those and what matters
when close to us they stay.
The past and its mistakes awake
and we fall prey again.

Virtue

Our world well made
with its inhabitants well created
had virtue the iron thread which held all things.

One night when all was quiet
I saw virtue cut,
so loud was its cry;
not only was it cut but into pieces
and thrown into a bottomless pit.

O virtue how helpful you have been
for me and for all
but had no one to support you
let alone myself.

I nearly lost my life and all dear to me;
now it is not the same world anymore;
it is so crooked one hardly walks without bending.
Ah virtue our friend now our enemy,
then was so near now very far from us.
Pretense is now the thin thread around and away;
through the streets and the alleys, none even mourns the
the untimely death of virtue.

The cemetery

One lives there, the mornings are quiet
busy the afternoons with several noises
starting from animals, man and man-made things.
Noise that are allowed and sometimes enjoyed,
but the hot afternoon’s noise, the saddest of them all.
The cemetery, melodious birds, tooting horns,
moaning and groaning; as if it will not end, yet
soon after the moaning and groaning, only the birds
remained after the cars are moved accompanied
by their blaring dirges and tooting horns.

The cemetery, very lonely yet full of all sorts of people:
the rich and poor, proud and haughty, the commoner
and the well-known.
The cemetery, not lively yet underneath the tombs
an active life continues with joy and abundance: that of
termites, that of worms.
The cemetery full of the dead yet above the tombs the
green grasses, the beautiful flowers the trees; one cannot
leave out the rodents and grasshoppers .
the cemetery the end of all our woes and troubles;
from there our moaning ends so our groaning

She lives there too most beautiful most loved,
filled with humour , warmth and passion; all wanted
her: her charming smile and eyes but feared to go there
often; the scary scraps, the bony tombs: feared all, though
painted white.

The cemetery our lovers,
the cemetery where our memories end,
the cemetery our life dodges;
yet in death we search the cemetery,
the cemetery to embrace us.

Do you know?

Do you know how it feels
to fall sick and ill
Suddenly your best no more?

Do you know how it feels
to take the lead
and become the least;
When for something you’re known,
failure , so can no more own;
living a life full of trauma and Regret
yet a march to the end?

Do you or not know how it feels?
I know what it feels,
But for you I’m healed.

Their presence

Where the women are
the minds stir up
and hearts made glad;
where the women lack
Stare clouds the mind as
gladness flees the heart.

My teacher

Among the birds I was
Like them I was
until he found me .
Into an eagle he turned me,
How to fly he taught me,
Into the sky he taught me.
Although not gone into the moon I
yet grateful still am I
that he made to fly
not just like an eagle
but also without perching.

Símbolo de amor

What is the symbol of love?
The heart for ages have been
When we feel what we love
When we feel who we love
Now we see before we love
Honesty has turned pretence
Just to be accepted
A game to play with our feelings
Controlling the turn of events
With the symbol our mind
An unreliable mine
Only to realize it’s not ours

She walks in beauty

She walks in beauty
Like the gentle dangling
Of the falling leaf from the baobab
In the moonlit night
Moistened by the soft calm breeze
Running into the arms of the gentle dew
Showing the sparkling of its
Diamond reflection in the fearful dark.

Full of bangles at her wrist
Full moon shaped ear rings
Showing its radiance
When the full rays settle on it.
Her unpolished cheeks the dark hides;
Her smiling nose and charming eyes reveals.
So irresistible one cannot say good bye
When with her alone.

The centre of the universe she is
At her feet lie undiscovered treasures
All that the ears heard but saw not
The brightening star that shines through my night
Drags to herself all those with breath
A queen to behold her ornaments
Her walk so graceful, redefines elegance
When beside her alone.

Her charm the magicians can’t fathom
Her touch changes base metals to gold
The Lingering warmth in her arms
Is enough to thaw my icy nerves
Pain dies away giving birth to cheerful memories
A descendant of the face that sank a thousand ships
And brought down topless towers
Made men immortal with kisses
So wonderful the thought of it
When around her alone.

Like a nursery to crops
Like the shade it gives
We lie low on her brow
Like babies for a suck
A tender care in wait
For generations yet unborn
From far through the hazy and windy night
She still walks in beauty
Alone when away from her.

It was over

Even before you were born
After the first breath of life
The crawling and walking
Your first cry and smile
It has been over.

For ages it was over
But yet to begin
From the beginning
Started all,
And none to escape from its hold.
No one wanted to continue
Everyone wanted to end.
Nowhere to go now
Nothing to do
My steps I cannot make
My journey a standstill it came.
Exhausted and worn-out
Trembling and terrifying
It is all over.

No more waking up
To be late for classes
No more writing exams
No more waiting for results,
No more changing of time tables
When preparations are made.
All alone you will be
Away from all of these
Rowdy and noisy confusion
Into a quiet and calm
But a higher depth to drown
With the least error.

My life, uncontrolled actions
My actions, all alone I bear.
In my dark room
I might find my way there
With the light from within:
The unseen light my guide.
I would succeed because
It was over long before
I even started, it was over.

I never knew

I never knew it will come
But I had it and believed it.
With all expectation I waited
Waited and waited to no avail.

The promise was not fulfilled
These were words freely uttered
How harmless they seemed
Now an agitation in the mind
Unfufilment that is what happened
Anger and hate that is what is happening

This could cause separation
When enmity breaks relationships
Most often they forget and focus
what occupied their minds instead
Your reaction should delay because

something could happen on course
Your action, be mindful
And remember yesterday
And their role in our lives

Dark night

Soon the sun’s song
With dark light leading
Clears the dark night
Runs my night my dark
To a place of no return

Soon my happiness
Kept so long under keys
Deep down the depths
Only the fishes
Their fiery firing eyes

Soon the divers with
All set for rescue
Lost their trail
Tossed and turned
With the wave the guard

Among those with speech
My cover I took
My hide was uncovered
The sun my friend
Soon gave way to rest

All alone I was
Quiet but within in a
Noisy confusion
Waiting to explode
The magma soon to erupt

Soon winter saw summer
Soon autumn saw spring
I was not seen or heard.
… run my night my darkness
As the sun soon sings