Sounds of Accra

An incessant evangelist,
The hum of the air conditioner,
The fidgety jerk of the generator,
The rustle of the unread books,
Honks at meek, wearied, pedestrians,
The strokes of an over- used keyboard
The clicks of the neighbour’s mouse,
The weary wind at my window,
Guilt knocks at my drained soul,
Scheming voices of office politics,
Sighs of a hungry, tired watchman,
Dissolution of sugar into that cup of tea,
The softness of your steps on my reverie ,
The fatigued waft of your smile,
The innocence of your laughter.

Accra Street

Sellers of risk at every crossroad,
Long loaves of bread undated,
Unkempt pavements un-turned,
Busted shades of hope laid bare,
Kaput power, long cut not so rare,
Feline eyes adjust into this night,
Pierce this lanky impoverishment,
Hear cars shriek, stuck horns bleat,
On them the weight of yester dust
Resigned to this ignored,tired fate,
Tattered , yet unhurt, undeterred,
Dreams interred, slowly stirred,
The yeoman wait,
To cross the street’s fate.


In this long hall of continental silence,
Lighted by shafts of aureolic darkness,
Socratic, and so despairingly intense,
My land graffiti of a fifty one scars,
Swiped by ruthless extricators,
Left me, landless, impoverished,
Dug long interred stones and bones,
Set me to insensate, blunt sword,
Stole many splendoured nugget,
Diamond in fashion shows trotted,
Bedecked Saxonian breasts
Dowried Teutonic crests,
In arrogance, they seek,
Me and my kings so meek,
Hurried ,humble yet humiliated,
They said we had lost,
History they wrote,
Me, vanquished,
plundered, tired,
Wait for your aid,
which is but your invest.
In my wretched state,
I am patient yet.


Me and quietude, beside to share,
This west end of a long corridor,
Now a mute crest at some rest,
Eyes straining the night, to reset,
Experiencing a calm emptiness,
Reflective stimulus, this darkness,
Power cuts soothe my grilled nerves,
Thoughts are shorn of frills or swerves,
Short left my false, winding lanes,
Now traverse penurious strains,
Riotous colours of yesterday,
Uncivil, unsure, rigorous today,
Thunderstorms nudge my door,
Past them tall gates of fear,
Mud, brown, exuberant, so, ajar,
Raindrops tug, whistle, tear,
Trickle past the colonial wire
Rolled, barbed, now to retire,
Meditate, open my third eye,
Smear myself in ashes dry
To see , to feel,
Touch natural,
Your innocence,
Your timelessness.