Saturday, November 16, 2013


 Written in memory of Professor Kofi Awoonor, killed in Kenya 2013

We all know that the pen is mightier than the sword,
But some days ago the sword thought it was mightier than the pen
They lie bad!
The pen IS mightier than the sword!
Long after the ra ta tat tat of the guns have echoed away,
The ink from the pen would stay,
The words from the mighty oak would never fade away
The pen IS mightier than the sword!
Long after we've forgotten the names of those who welded the axe,
Long after their names disappear from memory,
The name Awoonor would stay,
The discharges of ink from his pen would remain etched in every one's mind
His death will open a gateway for others to do what they love
what they feel and what they desire - to be storytellers
The lie lie the idiots tried to feed us no go hold
The randomness of their sword chose a wrong victim because as long as we live, as long as we breathe, as long as we read,
our storyteller will live on.
The pen IS mightier than the sword,
Professor Awoonor, your last days were spent storytelling and creating
but your last day was not really your last day, but an ascendancy into another realm of storytellers long gone
They lie bad
Truly, the pen is mightier than the sword
They lie bad! Long live the pen of the Prof!
The pen IS mightier than the sword


You Promised
You promised to let me know
When it was over
You promised, you promised
You promised to be honest
When you fell out of love
You promised you promised

You promised but 
I felt the changes months ago
You promised, you promised
But you told me nothing was wrong
You promised, you promised
Now I feel, smell and inhale the change
And still you promise and promise

Wednesday, October 17, 2012


lights, camera, action
how can I start
poetry from the heart 
cannot be wrenched out
like the body of a snail
the talons of fear grip my throat
the thunder in my belly growls
the lights burn my eyes
dim down the lights
so I can't see you
when darkness envlopes me
my voice goes into action
the grip around my throat loosened
the words flew out like smooth as silk
lights camera action


She was shackled at eighteen
Young innocent and blind
She never listened to reason
Through rose coloured glasses he seemed so kind
She though his jealousy was a sign of love
But as usually happens, he clipped her wings of a dove

She changed because of those chains
Her petals closed no more to bloom
The light in her eyes locked behind a watery gaze
Her heart was filled with permanent gloom
He had clipped the wings of the dove

She grew thin with a heart of stone
Saw no joy in his kind of love
Felt no happiness with his wealth around
He clipped the wings of his beautiful dove

She killed him!
She cried
Not from inside but tears that quickly dried
The caged bird cried “liberare”, Free at last
The cry of freedom, emancipation and liberation
His death was her salvation
No more would he clip the wings of the dove

Free at last
“Crime of Passion” they said

With new wings of a dove
Reborn like the phoenix
She would soar away
To enjoy her freedom
Never to be shackled again by love
The total bliss of L I B E R A T I O N
Free at last
Free at last


The tough man put his gentle harms around his babe
"Don't cry" he said as he rocked and covered her with his cape
one arm shoved is gun under the cushions
Mr. Gangsta, the baby father

He looked into her eyes full of tears
and said "my baby have no fears"
forgetting the eyes that looked pleadingly when he pointed the gun at them with no mercy
No one in the hood could do what she could,
Bring Mr. Gangsta to his knees because of her tears

He put her on his back to rock her to sleep
Mum was at work to get food for them to eat
Her soft breath on his back calmed him down
and he swore to protect her, his darling daughter
as he shoved the gun deeper into the sofa


Silver from Ghana

Adinkra Symbol

Adinkra Symbol
"Sankofa" Go back for it!!