THE THOUGHTS IN MY HEART by; DOUGLAS BOATENG

                                    



I fought my thoughts out

The scenes I perceive

Thrashes out my zone of comfort

I lay out my thought to my captor

My captor is my defensive weapon

She unravels my true inner being

Each night and day, I sought out

My sentiments to outdoor what

My heart has caught

But to all my hopes I lost

My heart has bought a stricken old coat

And each time i wear it, the looks and sighs

Of the lost generation I feel

I am one wild walrus in the sea

Searching for survival

But

I have been kept in shackles

Shackles that wear off my skin

When I struggle

I am one fearless, candid eagle in the air

How difficult is it to question my veracity

For the gospel is my priority

But

these shackles shuts my thoughts to a naught

My fate is at stake

On a highway

But the way to exit tells me

One day,

I will say out my thoughts

In my heart

To my appraisal

Bosom of affection

This is my time of perfection 

SHE STOOPS TO CONQUER by; Fiende Bawa

 

 

Kate a barmaid turned to conquer

And Marlow was by accident wooed.

In this instance I see that her stoop lays bare

What he would not search.

And now, he was as new as grass in rain days;

Never being mauled or blemished,

And there she stood with an appealing look;

Awakening his emotions, overthrowing his reasoning.

He never could resist the urge to enter,

And she took the rope, untied,

She stooped exposing the iron gate

..........and he once entered was forever vanquished!

LETTERS IN JULY by; Awurama Adu-Gyamfi Betty

summer 2012,

from a lonely journey to a lonely soul across the world,
These days between spring and autumn are not yet numbered,
The days are yet to come and every passing moment feels like eternity.
Heaven has provided warmth
And loneliness, chilly nights
The mirage of you keeps running and breathless
On those memorable days I laid my pillow
Touching you now in my mind;
You are looking and smiling,
We are giggling and teasing,
You are saying the words in the song,
I am saying the words in the poem.
But these are just phantoms and shadows,
And more like mannequins which look like me and you.
These days have more stringent rules
and so the distance will be kept for now
and the letters will be read later
The beaches are wonderful,
The sun is beautiful,
The people are in love
the only thing out of sight is you,
But after summer we will be together.
for all the days.

DONT WORRY. by; Kofi Amankwah Asihene

 

 

You hear the clings and clangs
Of the shackles

Of the brave African warriors,

As they are being led

Into European dungeons.

You see the whips

Of the slave master,

Tearing off the black flesh

Of your black brother.
And you hear him screaming

And cursing

In his native tongue.


But don’t worry,

Be happy.
Because you are not the one in shackles;

And your flesh is not the one interacting with the whips


You hear the crazy chants

Of the Ku Klux Klan

As they hunt down

The men and women

Who have the devil’s complexion.

And you hear the screams

And shrieks

And shrills

Of the black woman

As she is being raped;

Not raped to be set free,

But raped to be murdered afterwards.

You hear the silent sobs

Of the little black boy

As he watches his sister,

His mother,

His grandmother

Being RAPED by men

Who have the angel’s complexion.

You hear Martin Luther King

Shouting at the top of his voice,

“I have a dream!”
And that phrase

Echoes

And echoes

And echoes

And echoes in your head

Till you can bare it no more.

But don’t worry,

Be happy.
Because you are not the one being raped;

And you are not the witness of any racial rape.

You hear the rattling

Of the machine guns

In the Hutu-Tutsi land
And you hear the swish swash

Of the Hutu machete

As it slashes and chops off

The heads of the Tutsi family.

You see their heads rolling

In the bright blue sky;

Acrobatics.
You see their heads spitting out blood and brains.
And you smell the stinky

Rotting

Bodies,

Piled up

As high

As Kilimanjaro;

Black dead bodies

Dead black bodies,

Left to rot.

You hear the cracks

Of the bones

Of the black man

As the apartheid dog

Sinks its white teeth

Into the black bones

Of the black barbarian.

You hear him scream

In pain

As he is being masticated alive.

But don’t worry,

Be happy.
Because you are not the one being beheaded;

You are not the one being chewed alive.

You hear the rattling

Of the machine guns

In the northern deserts.

And you hear the shouts

Of the rebel leader,

“Allahu Akbar!”

As he pushes the final bullet

Into the body of the great oak tree;

The final bullet

That will silence the great oak

Forever.

You watch

As the stubborn occupant

Of the white throne of tusks

Is elevated;

Not elevated to a higher ground,

But elevated

From his throne

Into the dungeon.

You hear gunshots

Between the Bible

And the Quran.
You see bombs

Being hurled

At the churches

From Bokko Haram.

But don’t worry,

Be happy.

Because very soon

It will be your turn.

So don’t worry,

Be happy.

IF I EVER LOVED. by; Bright Owusu

If I ever loved,

I would dare pluck heaven's glory for you

I would inflict your being with pains of success

But when night is bereft of the moon's splendor,

And the clergy of their clerical suit,

Realities entangle imaginations in the web of wishes

If I ever loved,

I would dare pluck Cupid's wings for you

I would drain and instil in your veins bouquet of trust

But when oceans are robbed of sand dunes,

And gardens of rosebuds,

Desire locks choices behind the bars of free-will

If I ever loved,

I would dare with Lucifer's voice sing

I would scrub and infuse in your mind thoughts of assurance

But when dawn is axed of tears,

And flowers in June of bloom,

Yearnings sink abilities in the stream of forgetfulness.