POEMS, NEWS, PUN AND FUN

Queer is this romantic adage A true serf and peasant accolade Heard even at tender age Not meant for a lass to cascade Nor an idiom for labs to contemplate But for the hunger it tends to abate. Harmattan Pawpaw Coined by environmental determinism With pros and cons of tropical sarcasm Intriguing as a prose Shakespearean Unique in clan like the red Indian Within the dry walls lives the unseen Apocalypse A Kingdom of the true Messian Few followers go in to see the sweet magician And half decide to remain in his trickery abyss. Harmattan Pawpaw The true manna in the harsh pine With a single root it's still fine All are free to claim her thine In drought she calls us home to dine This is the thin tall African fruitful tree  Boosting our Farmer's hunting spree Ever supporting in times of need Cut none of such, our anointed plead Most sweetest when adversely scarcest Liken to lovers who mesmerise their dearest. Oo ye harmattan Pawpaw I believe in the market you are what I saw Just be

His hands aren't too short to save, Neither his path too crooked to pave  Nor feeble to us the mind he gave Blessed be who believes without erring Foolish indeed who judges just by hearing God loves Africans they alleged Not wondering how that news was heard He hails from us historians have said But the foreigners proclaimed him to us I had read Where is the truth in this message Or it's all at the mercy of a heresy? You have a child with deformity we were told, A son of about thirty minutes old, Being our first time is why we felt cold However, if Fennel and I were then bold This story wouldn't today unfold. With nurses mimicking the unfortunate road he plied, Its Iris appear red, brown, yellow like dyed. Simply, our kid was declared a one eyed As the doctor made retarding sighs While examining his left and right eyes. Amidst fear, panic and fury, And a child in my arms like armoury, We left without hearing the doctor's caution, That sunlight was a blend concoction Loc

We the fortunate ones Those who weren't sanitized at once At least from biblical pandemics Those anointed theological comics  Black sheep in the day, white wolf at night We were saved anyway, by grace not might. It hasn't been any different from what I sought, That bottle of oil my wife had bought To save our son we gracefully begot. Borges was our patrimonial argot But He asked, "Is that all you've got" Who then is He? The man who baptized we. "He" represents all false prophets, Who studied the holy pamphlets And to amass for their own pockets, Deceive the religious illiterates To unbind any ties with soul mates Hence, sanitizing their thinking cups. Unless you buy my oil, This child will soon be in the soil. This is how we lost hope Our faith in him was so dope Trusted he could help us cope, Bishop Corona was only an expired coke Who had semblance of a good Pope.

Haps sung with strings and harps Sometimes said with strings attached Especially those of iconic mishaps Wishes recited with rhymes detached All in the name of what will people say We woefully help make their day Birthday rhythm of the morning Sincere condolences for the night As if to help in mourning And to stick till you feel alright Marital support with gifts on site Naming ceremonies graced all in white Forging unity with heart and might But no one to say goodnight Many troubles behind the sweet smiles Some that go with us for many miles Pains that can't be seen in eyes Needs beyond individual ties Sometimes it's lack of mere love And the sense of humor we don't have Our backs turned in pursuit of nothingness Hoping to survive by curtailing kindness A table is set with no dish And meal served without fish Then why proclaim the brotherhood fetish? If only we would take a second look Purport at will to read each other's look Maybe we shall not just type the good wish

We mostly hear the comparison; as white as snow, Although often there's nothing pure they show. But this lady is as fair as shrimp's below. Were she a song, I'ld listen till my ear lobe blow There's a toffee shop down the lane, The sweetness in its pack gets me insane. An estate girl has it for sale, My route and her footpath is same, When we first met she told me a love thale, And I now love her so who's to blame? Toffees are sweet but only to those who taste them. This one wrapped brown is my problem. Before meeting her, I ate pancake. And it's why she's refusing me her chocolate. If not for love, I'll spank her for being late. Can I yet vomit in her arms, To free my belly of old charms, And wed her in one of my golden farms? The time is soon and the date set Next new moon or June I bet Plans are made, is the cash ready? The man is late, but is the bride groomed already?

It hasn't been any different from what I sought, That bottle of oil my wife had bought To save our son we gracefully begot. Borges was our patrimonial argot But "He" asked, "Is that all you've got" Who then is He? The man who baptized we. "He" represents all false prophets, Who studied the holy pamphlets And to amass for their own pockets, Deceive the religious illiterates To unbind any ties with soul mates Hence, sanitizing their thinking cups. This is how we lost hope, Our faith in him was so dope Trusting he could help us cope, But Rev Father Corona was an expired coke Who had semblance of a good Pope. You have a child with deformity we were told, A son of about thirty minutes old, Being our first time is why we felt cold However, if Fennel and I were then bold This story wouldn't today unfold. With nurses mimicking the unfortunate road he plied, Its Iris appear red, brown, yellow like dyed. Simply, our kid was declared a one-eyed As the doc

Has no one heard it? That news edited on CNN Saying Kotoka took a golden receipt Yellowish indeed like MTN For a fight Nkrumah did forfeit As telecasted on EBN  Was a blend of Irony and Pun Literally said, a flash in the pan. A supposed peaceful mission  Led to his seat being missing Ensuring calm in foreign Hanoi While at home tranquility was insanely coy And public debts that had masses to annoy. Remember the union of Ghana-Guinea, Our pounds given her to settle a fee Blinded our ancestors eyes to see A dream of unified black continent And named him among Sekou Toure's cabinet Instead of being the United State of Africa's president. So we all embraced democracy  As Papa Jay decided to end his own papacy Which we mesmerized with our sexy eyes And stalled development till prof dies. Did we benefit from the freedom demand? Wasn't our destiny in only one hand? Does NDC or NPP have any magic wand? Are they a curse or bless that annually abound? When at all shall our thinking c

Last night was only a gist perusal It's quite funny when man takes sensual monuments as usual. We aren't any doyen in geological fields as we claimed And even the lil know-how we bluff is maimed. Last night is no different but not same  Compared to what Japan called insane Ours was just a tremor That drained the carbohydrates in our late night fufus And drove back at us the awareness of possible horror Maybe Accra felt it, even the soil living fungus  There is a force upholding the universe Whose potency can't be explained in a poetic verse So I decided to avoid the internet To present to you my single sonnet.

All I saw was her hands around me and mine tightly around her waist. For about an hour I couldn't let go of her as she said," I wish we stay like this all time". If only you were all mine, I added. The feeling was mutual and the ecstasy behind the hug, unusual. She continued,"Do you love me? Anytime I set my eyes on your lips, I don't want to lose you." So I questioned," What of in the harmattan? The arms fused so tightly now lost grips and the hug came to abrupt end. This was when I woke up. We all have who we love dearly but ask yourself if you love because of love, the beauty of it or just for that attraction. Many youth would do anything just to earn love, admiration and acceptance. But are those necessary, if they are, could that be the only means to touch the heart of that special person? It was only two days after they exchanged contacts and my friend described this lady as good at kissing. ( I still cannot tell what that means) Pretending not to

The crossroad is a place of confusion, where you can’t rely on your intuition. There, any wrong turn could lead to eternal condemnation. If and when you get there, Never submit to fear but rather take courage and cheer. Pause for a moment in any situation. Prayerfully discern at that junction. Listen to your respondent, let the Holy Spirit function. At least for once, certainly not by chance. I have this to share so take your stance. You might have been or may get there soon. It may be dawn, night or noon. When you forget what to do, or you don’t know where to go. Upon you darkness looks and certainty seems very low. Call onto Him and grace will flow. Times will come that you may lust, not because you are bad. But surely you are dust and in you flows blood. Rely not on your flesh but flee fast, forget not the salvation you once had. You may feel like coining lyrics to defray your neighbour's insolence. Remember that the Holy Spirit is your conscience. Just tame the tongue, for the

Is it deliberate that at least man is now literate, Or we are so intimate that His decision to obliterate is now obsolete. If indeed there has been a need so keen, Then let's ask the wisest of our king What the master had in mind To structure a universe of this kind With worldwide wonders woefully wielded without whimsical wisdom. Let man leave his dad's hive Cleave onto his beloved wife Then craft a niche, an abode to hide. I have never stopped my enquiries Into my book of bible stories As if yet to hear of previous queries If God knew Adam would eat those berries Or it was Eve who weakened his testes Perhaps it's the snake's power of hisses. Ye are gods, such weird biblical quotation But willfully wired robots, God's nation. So consider an era of creation Where artificial intelligence had no mention Yet the bird was made with feet insulation To curb the threats of future electrocution, And semen from army of seamen Fight for ovaries in fertile women To omen a scho

Now I don’t know what to think, but some day it will all be in ink. I look without seeing, am I even a human being. To me, everything exists without meaning. My language is a cry, but I only calm myself with a smile. Today I take milk, but tomorrow I will break bones. Now am wrapped in silk, but soon I will wear clothes. Hmm! They leave me in pampers, am now among toddlers. Both the young and old handle me. Love and admiration are all I can see. Sometimes how hurtful it can be, especially when bathed by the geriatric. I have no option than to accept their plea. In fact a little smile does the trick. I am now a boy but frankly, am coy. I can’t even cook but I can eat yolk. Where is all the tenderness, where is all the care? How come all this harshness, why all these snare? My ideas are not significant, as tiny as an ant. All my vocals create fun, commonly ignored with laughter. I hate this pan; maybe, I should sound louder. But my cry is an unnoticed plea When shall I be free, I wish I

I WAS TOLD JUNE 4TH WAS A NATIONAL DISASTER, ONLY TO GROW AND REALIZE HE IS HUMAN RATHER, A SELFLESS HOUSE CLEANER. Had I the chance to enforce my stands, I'd dance till everyone understands, And would proclaim a period of enlightenment, That our historians failed to document; The hidden secret of Parliament, Which hid from us the sacred monument, That birthed the bouncy baby of 4th June, Who took blame and a bitter fortune, And vaccinated the castle for us all to be immune. Yet, does immunity connote dancing to every tune? What is the need for a "demo" with no one to see? Is there a weed at all if all plants are useful by Mr Bee? An answer is our only youthful plea, And further expiations if need be, Should we hail our democracy at sea? Since the contractor doesn't trust his carnal sense of judgement, He uses the Spirit Level in ensuring accurate alignment. But the mason who fails to employ quality material, Only meets clie