Black Man’s Sorrow and other Poetry

Let me intoduce my second poetry book dealing with the search for the meaning of life to you. It was originally written in 2014 but was constantly being edited to make sure it comes out tasty and well baked. It covers many themes from the ‘African situation’ to politics to religion to morality to love etc. If you are interested in what I have to say and want to buy it please click here. All proceeds from the sale of this book will be donated to the CWC Childrens Home, an orphanage in Accra, Ghana, in service of humanity. Have a nice day my dear. You know yourself.

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All The World Is But A Playground

All the world is but a playground,

Like the play of a young man and a maiden,

Like the play of a child and a balloon,

Like the play of kittens and puppies,

Like the play of a serpent and a mongoose.

All the world is but a playground,

Only to awake at the sight of our grave.

Love Is Not Blind

LOVE copy

Love sees everything.

But it is interested in that which feels good.

So love is not blind as is popularly believed. Love sees.

There was a rich but ill-mannered young man

And a poor but beautiful well-behaved girl.

When they fell in love, you couldn’t tell

They came from two different worlds.

But he knew she was poor and

She knew he was ill-mannered.

Love is not blind. Love sees!

N: See my other poems here:  http://www.kalaharireview.com/fictionpoetry/2013/12/2/little-wall-gecko-others.html

Hope Is A Thing That Flies

chicken in flight 2

 

Hope is something ugly,

Something on two legs,

Something tiny and unimposing,

But something bright that flies.

 

O yeah! Before we domesticated them,

Fowls used to fly.

It’s very much like what is happening in Africa today.

Before colonization, Africans used to fly.

 

In Search of a Good King

Africa

Photo credit: CMBowen

 

The Strivers are allowed every four years,

To choose which of the Kings must rule,

This season,

There are one and many men,

Some tall and hairy,

Others short and bald,

Some quiet and unassuming,

Others noisy and presumptuous,

Still, they all claim to be good kings,

I cannot tell which of them is a good king,

But I can tell which of them will become fattened and pomp,

By the end of his throne,

They all will.

And the servants – the poor servants,

With nothing going for them,

They must continue in their mining pits,

Day and night in pity and in hope,

For a good king who will not eat,

Until his servants have eaten.

 

Greed that Glows

They all want pieces of silver and gold,

Forgetting that,

 

Where ever there’s money,

There’s competition,

 

Where there is competition,

There is tension,

 

Where there is tension,

There is hyper-tension,

 

Where there is hypertension,

There is usually stroke,

 

And Stroke means you are halfway dead.

Money makes a lot of difference.

 

But at the critical moment of life,

Only your good deeds can save you.