The Love Series 1


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My love burns.

Singeing the cords of my straining heart

Breaking the frail bonds of reason
 My love is hot.

 Lava racing down my brow

 Stopping my open heart midbeat
 My love, it rages.

 Consuming all matter

 Scorning reality
My love is fire.

Dire fire engulfing us and tomorrow ceases to exist



That time has come

The count down has begun

That horrific clock has started to sound that tock

The phantom tick of Father’s day is taking shape

The ether is gaining substance


Reality mocks my weakening efforts

Of avoiding the pain

Happier memories stumble along

Insensitive to my desperate nudges



The time draws closer

And we mark another eon of your absence


soft, hard, filled with good feelings and happy memories

nights of charred bits and  burnt fingers

hot soft kelewele fit for chilly rainy april nights

home is where the kelewele is

sweet words of love

beautiful nothings muttered between sharp intakes of breath

home is where the kelewele is

where the heart dwells

soft, hard, filled with good feelings, happy memories, charred bits and burnt fingers.


Ghana Television has been stale for too long

The Silent Schmoozer

Back in the day Ghana had only one channel- Ghana Television Network (GTV).
Established in 1965 and managed by the Ghana Broadcasting Corporation (GBC)
Like anything new Ghanaians loved the network and the fact that it was the nation’s made them cherish it all the more.
As the years went by private stations sprung up, adding variety and providing consumer sovereignty along with the added advantage of competition which meant quality services for the people.
The state channel could rub shoulders and claim it was the best with its unparalleled reach to the hinterlands.

THE NATION’S HEARTBEAT, the slogan then (now PULSE OF THE NATION) held true as every Ghanaian home almost always left the dial on the network. GTV could boast of the highest rating as its broad range of educative and fun programmes captivated its audience and held them glued to their seats.
Programs likeby the fireside…

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Sherlock- A Sonnet

The morn has dawned
Faithful to its well worn pattern
A common morn it seemed
Til the notification reached my vision
Twas a morn, yes
But one unlike the former
For yesterday marked primus inter pares
The genesis of the transformer
Which gift would suffice?
Meet for boon Sherlock?
Dinner with charles post-office?
Which way to celebrate this epoch?
So in verse I celebrate
Enoch Kingsley Quaye I appreciate

For UncoBobs

More than a year has passed
And still the bird flits listlessly from bough to bough
Singing hollow songs of happiness

More than a year has passed
And we carry on
Making do with what is left
We can not and do not attempt to fill the space you left
Such herculean tasks are pointless and trivial
So we carry on

We carry on as we open the gate in the dead of night
Awaiting with lamp lit for the last of our number after a days’ wanderings
We wrestle the faulty machine
Finally giving up and replacing it, your tools gathering dust in the drawer
We balance precariously on crude frames
Adjusting fittings and changing light bulbs
Silently we rummage through your various tool stashes
Fixing the plumbing, the car
Then finally calling for help

More than a year has passed
And silence fills the evenings
No arguments over the TV remote or your chair
A new TV adorns the hall by the way, the old one conked out
No lectures on how practical Nigerian films are
Or life lessons from NatGeoWild

More than a year has passed
And your booming laughter is heard in memory
Your voice in song is heard no more.

And we carry on

For Mother


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you think I am strong
or confident or tough.
Look at my mother

We speak softly, deliberately and carry big sticks
Because we must go far
and do more
and be more
we are denied what can easily come to us
so we can strive to get all that is owed us
would not, should not, cannots fizzle away in the dust of hard work

Be everything
Become everything
Be nothing

Thats our example