The 9th DISASTER ANNIVERSARY

Once upon a time is a statement in my early days book.

No matter how sad or blissful your goodnight face may look,

My dad will gracefully get a bible story to cook.

This man can conjure and may brew from the unleavened brook.

Then he told me how stable our stadiums were until they once-upon-a-day shook.

That's why I have lived with Ghana's may nineth.

A true once-upon-a-time that changed day into night.

My first ever soccer game in Accra to witness,

Unraveled to my surprise the hearts-kotoko weakness,

And the Men-in-black policing with strategic bruteness.

That which TV3 captioned "May 9th Disaster Anniversary"

Which for a decade stood as Africa's worst football stadium story.

Coinciding with my first day in Accra celebration,

As I moved from the far West to settle in the so-called southern region.

In fact, come see a villager turned into a legion.

But there is a way of man that eats him up,

Maybe because we drink from a poisoned cup.

And if we wait till people die before we remember them in our days,

We shall forever tell of legends who were so brave,

But like Julius Ceaser, we all stabbed them to their grave.

This write up is to raise awareness of surving footballers,

May 9th disaster playmakers,

Who from 2001 have lived as heroic sufferers,

With no option but to join the peasantry of their village farmers.

Comments

RFFS PRAYER

Anytime I'm called for duty... Wherever deployment takes me, Pervert from my path, any mutiny... But give me the strength to be; The rescuer, the protector and the fire fighter. Whenever I'm gone for stand by... Lord, grant me a listening watch. All incursions, hazards and risks, May I with my crew identify... Where unavoidable, enable us to mitigate.. Be it in the terminal, tarmac or boarding gate.. Should there ever be an emergency, Wherever fire may rage.. Should there be any shout, No matter the skin or age.. Help me put the fire out, And my neighbor, help me save. And if by your will... Any blood may spill... Leading to any fatality, Protect my wife and kids, And preserve the rest of my crew.

MAY DAY, HER DAY

The kitchen was theirs in the days of old, They were the housewives, so I'm told. So shall the real woman wake, Early from bed and for her family bake, The bread of life. Such was the routine of a good wife. What at all is house chores? A mere sweeping and cleaning course, Yet we're expected to praise them aloud, And pamper them like a manner from the cloud. If this mind of societal stereotype, Keep flowing freely like a leaking pipe, In an era of this economic hype. Shall our women be healthy alive, Even if indeed they do survive? A career woman she's now called, Aid to man when his pocket stalled, Beautifully dressed to work, Yet at home we fail to praise her worth. This is poetry for May day, A caution for men to make hay. As she helps financially at home, Assist her to tidy up the dome. Now she's green and stands tall, But green leaves too do fall. After all this grass has dried up, What else will dare to spring up?

BLIND DATE

Pre-Social media world had better means for us to make friends. We needed no data like in modern trends. Friend requests weren't necessary to send. There was an easier way the world did blend. Those times, little money did we spend. Even when you did not have, someone could lend. However, to get a date was not as tiresome. All you needed was life....... Isn't that awesome? She would ask for your commitment after she had given you her all. She would forgive you even after all, But for guilt, your heart wouldn't stop beeping. These days you need courage, money, good looks and fame without any debate. All these just to get someone to date else thou shalt be too late. This particular lady came to me even when I was not ready. Accepting me, knowing that I did not deserve to propose. I tried to hide but Grace found me. In fact, her approach I couldn't oppose and as promised, she has been with me ever since. Forgiving my sin...

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