Tuesday, 14 June 2016


Cattle dung on Savanna grass
In dry season at Bolgatanga
Like rotten seed on fertile grounds
A life tagged 'unfruitful'
Feet sinking in desert sands that
Do not burry even heavy feet
Nor lighter ones...but mine
What does the future hold?

13:01 GMT
June 14, 2016.

Thursday, 12 May 2016


What's in nineteen years?
A strike with stroke?
A fight with filth?
An endurance of criticisms?
Endurance of losses?
A rough-smooth journey
On a many-rump asphalt...

Moments of victory?
The stare of defeat?
The glare of impossibilities?
The urge to move on?
The plague of retardation
From the inner YOU...?

Which side are you?
Winning the battle,
Running away, or
Warming the fence
With heat from your bottom?

May 12, 2016.
UG, Legon.

Wednesday, 11 May 2016

If It's All About Birthdays

"Growing old is mandatory, growing up is optional." - Chili Davis

Age is not just a number. Not 'just'...no, I don't think so. A year wasted suggests a 365/366-day waste of a million opportunities, and that is the reason why I fear birthdays most.

Today ends another 365-day journey for me, and I am finding it hard to believe that some goals I had set to achieve still lie dust-covered on my shelf of plans. What happened?

Aside the fact that it is a joy to be alive another year, what else should make a person enthusiastic about the imminence of their birthdays? The gifts? The wishes? Have we not learnt to live in oblivion of these.

What have you set to achieve by a particular age? That skill, that dream, that future...which stair are you on now? What progress have you made? What impact have you had?

When will you start writing that book you have imagined launching all these years? You had plans to learn that musical instrument, what discipline have you devoted to it?

I believe these should be our concerns most, not attacking people for forgetting to send us birthday wishes.

I personally see a greater percentage of today's youth as fond lovers of the present. It is evident in most of the decisions they make. People are not willing to make sacrifices. Bodies are not willing to endure pain. Eyes see no future, minds do not perceive what's ahead...just the present!

It is a cycle of present pleasures until the wheel stops, and the future becomes the present. It hits you hard and turns you into a had-I-known philosopher.

After a year is added to your age, ask yourself what value you have added to the former you.

Age is not just a number. It calls for responsibilities. It calls for a wake from dormancy. Age is that lover that would soon tell you it's over and remind you about the painfully wasted years.

Saturday, 23 April 2016

Zero On a Zero, An Alternative to Eight.

I am not a motivational speaker, but if these words would motivate you, why not? I sure will be glad. Like the philosophers of old, let me share with you a product of one of my pensive moments.

I met my first obstacle to learning while at nursery school. This 'wall' was very determined to refuse my penetration, I thought. Learning to write the first ten whole numbers would have been easy, but for a single figure, the number '8'.

'1' was just a single move. '3' was two tiny semi-circles away, but '8' was that uncouth artiste stealing the show. It proved a stubborn member of the ten.

I could not let this triumph over me. I found an alternative. I had mastered how to write '0', so I drew two, one on top of the other. Was that not an '8', too?

So many times we dare not try new ways. We try to follow the methods people we have succeeded have taken in achieving their goals. Many times we act same as our friends have, fearing public disapproval. I had tried to be skillful initially, imitating steps from my colleagues. They had drawn their figures wonderfully, but mine was a different approach to arrive at the same end.

There are many alternatives to that seeming impossible thing. Pause for a moment. Think awhile. Seek a different approach. Try it (of course reasonable ones). You might not find what you are looking for, but you might make a whole new useful discovery. There is always an alternative to '8'.

Friday, 19 February 2016

Loss and Thoughts

Written in November 2015.

"Look!" I pointed at the coconut tree that was falling. I prompted Reggie to have a look. We were on a shopping spree at a market in Cape Coast to get a few ingredients that would make the Christmas meal complete. It was Reggie's last boxing day in Ghana and my first Christmas spent in Cape Coast. I surmised that the fallen tree would cause harm, although I tried to be as optimistic as possible. But, then, when we arrived at the scene from the vegetable section of the market, the tall tree had smashed a skull, and it was that of a small boy!

What I witnessed got me riveted to the spot. The shock was overwhelming. I had not known the victim from anywhere, but the sudden pang of hurt provoked my eyes to let go the tears it unsuccessfully tried to hold back. The victim's mother wailed and wailed and I wondered whether her inconsolable being was because she felt she had been instrumental in her son's demise. She had laid a mat beside her as the coconut tree stood by unnoticed as that which would take a little boy's life in minutes!

Before November welcomed me this year, October took Angela away. She had been a member of the union choir we had formed at senior high and during our session at the grotto prayers, she had sang tenor with me. However, even after we had gone to university, not one of us had said a word to another before.

I had seen her among the queue that led to the hall tutor's office, waiting to be registered as new members of University of Ghana, Elizabeth Frances Sey Hall. I could not make out where I knew her from, but two other friends I had known from St Rose's contacted me later to inform me that Angie had told them about seeing me on UG campus.

I had not known her personally, but her demise hurt me very much. There were series of questions I asked, both necessary and unnecessary ones, after news got to me about her demise. I could not understand why a fresher, like I was, could not even write her first university exams.

Such times are those that make us wish life were a movie, so fictional that we could re-act scenes we did not like; so that the unfortunate would be a hoax; so that the pleasant would be accepted. But such moments are ones that should also remind us that death respects no particular soul; that we're as vulnerable as those who have taken the lead.

Is there a tomorrow?


Michael Okyere Asante, author: 'Are You Waxing Cold?'

The semester has been more hectic than I had anticipated. It's quite unfortunate I have not had much time to write posts to occupy the blanks on my blog this year. There are quite a few others that were halfway through their journey on paper, but could not proceed to the next stage of being typed.

This is a product of my dawn moment today, written purposefully for the promotion of author Michael Okyere Asante's newest book : 'Are You Waxing Cold?'.

The expository seeks to help Christians who  have gradually found their love for God grow cold return unto the Love they had first known. Prof. J. K. Asamoah-Gyadu has this to say:

asamoah-gyadu“Michael’s book is one of the most biblically balanced popular books on Christian spirituality that I have read in several years…The topics in this volume are critical to Christian life and even ministry and so the book could serve as basic teaching material for new Christians and mature candidates for Baptism and Confirmation in our denominations. It will also serve the needs of new Christians working to find their feet in Christ.”—Rev. Prof. J. Kwabena Asamoah-Gyadu, Professor of African Christianity and Pentecostal Theology, Trinity Theological Seminary, Legon and Author, Sighs and Signs of the Spirit: Ghanaian Perspectives on Pentecostalism and Renewal in Africa (Oxford: Regnum Books International, 2015)

Michael is also the author of 'The Dangers of Lukewarmness and Backsliding'.

'Are You Waxing Cold' will be formally launched on Monday, March 7, 2016 at the Presbyterian Boys SHS Assembly Hall, Legon.

In the weakest moments of mine
Eyes survey my every part
Lofty eyes that look for stains on the robe you gave me
Not Yours, Lord
Not Your eyes--Yours shine lovingly
You give me a hand
And tell me it's not over
My first love,
When I have wandered in vain,
I will run to You.
When I am waxing cold,
Reignite that agape flame

Monday, 21 December 2015

...to Fair Lady


Don't rush to throw the sheet away. I'm aware you'd laugh many times at the thought that I'd written a letter. The fact is, it's normal to presume so early, the truth is, I wouldn't if I were you. 

You're fair, that's obvious. You love to display to the extreme, whichever parts of you support this assertion. The other boys tell you they're moved. The fact is, fair is beautiful; the truth is dark is beautiful, too. 

Society is changing time after time. It's because of advancement that 'old' differs from 'new'. Fashion styles trend and become old-fashioned later. Fame fades faster than famine. Lives leave earth, too. Like the many that have faded, we stand the chance to be forgotten. Why the distance? Or is my complexion infectious?

The first time I met you, I thought you were so quiet that you would not scream 'Ouch!' at a pinch at your skin. But then I realised, after your argument over a make-up set, that you were the loudest person I had ever known.

I would be as unfair as bitumen to say you're not beautiful, but to say you are, is to be echoing your words. You have said it a gazillion times that we don't see it anymore. The fact is, beauty attracts; the truth is, it fades away, too.

Don't discard this sheet in anger. At least, you could show it to your friends first. I want the numerous friends of yours that flank your sides as you swagger to and fro everyday to read, too. I would be glad if your besties, those ones that have invented complexions of their own with the myriad of chemicals in their wardrobe, would read, too.

Give it to your sister, she needs it as much as you do. As it stands now, she's you in the making. I hope you're cool. I will see you when we're older. I'm off to the other side of the country.