Poets from Ghana: New Voices in 2015: Adwini-Poku, Dadson, Atsu, Nartey, Kyeraah

Sunflower in Toronto_Summer 2015
Lambert Adwini-Poku
“But Sometimes, When We Touch –”
But sometimes when we touch,
the tears of yesterday when eyes turned rain
and the heart felt alone in the crowd
that was when your voice set it free.
But sometimes when we touch,
the shadows of psychology and emotions
and the fullness of the mind with no data
that was when your face melted away loneliness.
But sometimes when we touch,
the warmth of anger and of its illness
and when no distinction was made
that was when your embrace smiled at me.
But sometimes when we touch,
the deafening of the sense organs
and when eyes, nose, and ears were meaningless
that was when your note in my hand breathed on me.
But sometimes when we touch,
the concept of reality and destiny
and of may and/or may not
that is when our lives are determined.
But sometimes when we touch,
we touch love and friendship.
. . .
Kay Dadson
“Paper Planes”
Sometimes, we fly like paper planes

Gliding in the air, silent, with no roar of a jet.

Sometimes proud, putting on the mane like we’re never gonna hit the dirt.

Changing our lanes every time we get hurt.

With the least turbulence and bad weather

We turn around or pummel to the ground when we experience danger.

Fly like a jumbo;

Not depending solely on the flow.

Fly majestically. Ride the wild winds.

Break through the ice in the clouds.

Even if you begin to fall,

Do not enter the state of dismay, whether in a stall.

This ain’t no mayday, do not make that call.

You may have struck ice,
but believe in yourself.
You ain’t no titanic.

This day isn’t that different. Enjoy it.

It’s a can-day.

Fire the engines once again. Make that ascent.

Be a jetfighter. Let the stars cream.

Like a transformer, make some changes.

As the typhoon, ride the winds. Take the journey across.

Your weakness may be air-to-ground but I think we all agree:

that isn’t your purpose.

Be a sidewinder missile. Seek your target,

Don’t give up. Do not explode. No. Not just yet.

Like the shuttle, launch into space, out of this domain.

Not even the sky is your limit.

Time to close this piece. Returning to base.

Continue to be who you are. Be different.
. . .
Patrick K. Atsu
“The Bleeding Heart”
Serenity blushes the shadows mild
And blow soft wind like “pepi”
As your dent romances me with pains
That worm over my body like death.
Erecting my emotions like breath
As disappointments walk me through this journey of solitary
With my prints clapping in the sands
Hiding my fears in clouds of tears.
As if there were no you tomorrow
Here the scorching sun shivers
Sharing her cries over my head
To console this bereft heart
That bleeds in tons of memories
With skips of pages one after the other
To silent the sweet tastes
That last but for a while.
It is this bleeding heart.

. . .

Jonathan Nartey
“How did Death find Me?”

How did Death find me?
I thought I was just dreaming.
O, like seriously:
I slapped death.
I know you can’t!
But I just did.
This is how I reprobated his blue.
I fetched the sky for him to sip
Since his throat was dusty
Like the harmattan.
Yet still a smile did not dance on his face.
The waft of the volcano slapped him up
So he was dripping here like a crying bottle
Filled with unflustered water.
Poor you!
O poor you!
I pleaded with the heavens
For the seed of air
Since Mr. Death was dripping here
Like nobody’s business.
Hm, hm, hm.
I can’t believe this.
Mr. Death is indeed a Judas.
Upon all the things I did for you, Mr. Death,
You made me devour the knife.
O Mr. Death,
So can you crunch the moon?
O Mr. Death,
O Mr. Death,
Did you know deep within that
I’m more than a Victor?
No, you don’t!
Yes! I know very well you don’t!
. . .

Dorothy Kyeraah
“I’m Pressing On Still”
On rocky ground I did fall

But up I got and still am pressing on

Tears did soak my pillow all day

But my heart be not weary

Oh I am pressing on

My eyes still on the prize

Though my feet hurt

I shall not rest

‘Cos am still holding onto the prize

With sore feet and trembling hands

I will crawl to the throne

To receive my own crown

Even with tattered clothes

I will retire not till I get hold of the gold.
. . .
Dorothy Kyeraah
“Gazing at the Sun”

Gazing at the sun in the late of the day

I am lost in thought of life so infinite

What tomorrow brings so bleak my mind goes wandering

Yet in this element lies the seed of life

Going down it casts its beautiful bright light

A sight so spectacular it blows my mind

It gets me to wonder at the power of the creator

And the awesome beauty it beholds

Colours so bright you just name them

As the day closes and this beauty fades away

It is almost as if all hope is lost

Yet early next morning there it is

Mighty Sun from the east does appear

Vibrant and majestic it shines in all glamour

And powers the whole earth.

. . . . .