Monthly Archives: November 2011


She is the sun that shines at night

And the moon that glows at day

A princess for many hearts

But a queen with her throne only in my heart


Enchantment created by Mawuga

She holds the secrets to the multifaceted crystal

of desires and hopes that are buried deep in my being

Like the virgin desert with giant forestation

Waiting to be explored but not exploited


The songs from the lips of dawn

Hum in union with the chirping birds

As the leaves and giant boughs sway

To the early morning wind’s whistling of her name

Like white robed Moslems salaaming at evening prayer

At the command of Mawuga





Ordained priestess of good fortune, love, greatness and fruitfulness

her prayers the sound of the silent ‘atentenbe’ reaches the ears of Dzorgbese Lisa

who despite his countless children treats her like the only child

so he blesses all who will bless her

and curses all who will curse and seek her destruction



Resourceful like the well that never runs dry

She quenches the thirst of my dry soul

Watering the good seeds of the self in me to blossom

Into a true reflection of who I really am

Her voice like a refreshing bathe

gently relaxes me and set me on sail to higher heights


Woman like the coat of many colors

A daughter

A sister

a friend

A best friend

A girlfriend

A lover

A wife

A mother

A grand mother

She blends these with a great flare

Day in day out she epitomizes a true virtuous woman


Undisputed Queen of many hearts

A true reflection of you name

You whet appetites with your uniqueness

Like the boiling pot of mother’s soup

Spiced appropriately

To not only satisfy my hunger

But also nourish my body and soul

So you are an amulet I wear around my heart.

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Posted by on November 29, 2011 in Poems


When Today Becomes Tomorrow

When today becomes tomorrow

Our words will grow into the rainbow

its beauty  never drifting away like the passing waters

Washing away everything we had hoped for

We would walk the path we cut out

After drinking from the calabash of Dzorgbese Lisa

Under the Ablormeti they will we sit

And hear tales of our initiation into the cycle of life

Then the town crier will let his gong-gong wail

The message lips are too heavy to deliver

Of the hunters who came home with great tales

But no meat for the mouth opened wide pot

For the pouch full of arrows

Rested on their backs as they waited instead of searching

Unlike us who ride the dark clouds in search of the pouch of rain

To quench the thirst of our desires and aspirations

Our smiles shall reveal our teeth like a roasted yam

That puffs open and smiles when the heat becomes too much

We do not spit to wash our hands

For our home is just be the river of opportunities

we listened to mad men talking, waited for a minute

and found wisdom in what makes people think they are mad

and unlike the bachelor who wants to cook

we will not put our food on fire whilst we go to climb the palm tree

For when today becomes tomorrow we do not want to fall off the palm tree

Or have our food burnt.



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Posted by on November 17, 2011 in Poems


Love Dirge

My blood has been drawn

I lay here dying

The cool Zemetsi  that quenched my thirst

now hot and burns the wetness of my heart to a crack

On a tray she has paraded and sold my name at the market place at noon

In my innocence she has raped me at the public lavatory

I can no longer join the virgins to sing in the cornfields

I will have to wear this gown of doubt henceforth

Like Koenyehia I will suspect everyone that shows me signs of affection

Fearing that they would be like the clouds I prayed for to bring me rain

But now they have flooded my farmland and destroyed my crops

Like the tree at the path that leads to the farm lands

I bear the wounds of the sharp cutlasses

She swings randomly as she journeys to her new lover’s farm

So over my grave she stands with a handful of sand

‘Ash to Ash

Dust to dust’

Eish Blewuuuu Blewuuu Blewu Lorlornye

Remember that a destitute orphan child doesn’t go rejoicing

Just because he’s had a satisfying breakfast

So I beg you not to nail my coffin with those rusty nails of words

That will become mad storms ripping apart this fortress

Of what we once held sacred like the offerings to Osogbolisa

Lest my value has now deteriorated like a four day old agbelikaklo

Lorlornye this I beg of you.


*Zemetsi* Water from earthen ware pot

*Blewu* Take it easy

*Osogbolisa* God

*Agbelikaklo* Fried spiced cassava balls

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Posted by on November 9, 2011 in Poems