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InspirationalPoetry

BEFORE THE TRAIN IS GONE

Let’s not rest our heads
From dawn to dusk
Our frail bones break

Our dreams too young to wreck
We’ not ready to let down the mantle
We’ got a lot to say

Oh yes! we got a story to write
Let’s not be late
We’ not here to make the same
We’ believe not in normality

Extraordinary the hallmark
Failure counts not in our DNA
So we comprehend no defeat

Our dreams greater than the oceans
Our ambitions bigger than the skies
We got a lot to say

Oh yes! we have a story to write
Time flies like a thief at night
Man! if you got a story
Jump in the ride before the train is gone!

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Poetry

WHO YOU OUGHT TO BE

The dream is to be rich and bold, great and strong

So our parents see a hero and professionals in us

Prophet and soothsayers might even see beyond

And friends and society do see otherwise

But above all that they see; you just find yourself in life’s net

Plenty folks have a different dream for us

Regardless of our potentials within

And on those foundation I term their counsel

They build some massive castles

Being born as a child; so young and free

We enjoyed everything freely at no fee

So the confidence of who we want to be when we grow

Was like a chorus we sing at a show

Everyone want to be a queen and rule like king

With several servants and wear diamond rings

Like Azar; we want to be number one

Painting the world with our favorite colors.

And walk majestically on golden parlors

But growing up as youth

Life actually told us the truth

Reality thought us that is not on a silver platter

Being yourself, Is like opening to a difficult chapter

The desire to be a doctor at six

Turns to a carpenter at twelve

Migrate to a musician at eighteen

And some point; we don’t even know who to be

Not forgetting, Our welfare is subject to the economy

With education holding the autonomy

And our environment influencing our decisions

Trampling on our vision and passion

Forcing us to chase the wrong dreams

And end up emptied to the brim

One thought of being like teacher Kwesi

And fly to America and Zambezi

Has shown a route

In reality, A doctor is working accounts in banks

And the unqualified are being giving high ranks

Hunger and greed has called several men to the pulpit

Looting and pushing the innocent and ignorant into a messed pit

Filling people’s mind with winding ecstasy

Through their ambiguous and false prophecies

Do I even know who I want to be?
It’s like a heavy burden loaded on me

I wish I could be a footballer or writer

But for a traders son I have to learn to be a manager

Climbing the ladder upstairs to success

In this diaspora is filled with immense stress

So now I don’t think of who I want to be

For even those we look up to or envy

Are like wolf’s in a sheep skin

Who really burn deep from within

So if you ask me, who I want to be like?

I will simply say,
“I want to be me”

For the person you ought to be

Is yourself and no no one else.

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Poetry

TIME WITH YOU: The Failings

It was meant to be blue
Yet had suddenly turn black
And I don’t even have a clue
For love isn’t a factor you and I lack

For in our heart’s storeroom we have in abundance
So, all I needed was a chance
To prove my worth; asunder

You cast me; confused
You set me; mesmerized
You left me; surrendered

You ended me; hurt
You caused me; weakened
You’ve made me; encountered

With pain; I bow down in shame
Shame of not making you mine
Shame of wasting the time
But it’s not all wasted I say

For memory will be the judge one day
For our time together

Should have absolutely lived forever
So why the failings at the eleventh hour?

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Poetry

TIME WITH YOU: The Cleave

You do not give me a cause to worry
And whenever I feel offended, you do say sorry
My game coach and everyday friend
The very one I want to be with to the very end

Your worth than treasures; for you’re my special melanin
You add value and taste to my life; my unique iodine
So hardworking and industrious
Very innocent and courageous

A country person with a city swag
Guess you mob my sorrow like a rag
A decent religious person filled with the holy ghost
Guess you do attend Pentecost

We have several things in common
A gap teeth and dimple
Music lovers and very simple
Don’t forget our passion and affection

Bet you are the best in contention
You make me understand the need to find a good partner
For you lighten up my strife in life.

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Poetry

TIME WITH YOU: The Journey

Like a wall clutched with a ladder
We solely lean on each other
Had our breakfast and lunch together
Amidst unending monster laughter
In fact, we are closer than Aladdin and his pet
And in our dealings, do we accord maximum respect.
Like a bleach cream, you lighten my fears
And cause me to darken up before our peers
So, I stand tall before the rest
And fall low to you; like a baby to the breast
When work directs me left, you go right
My exact version, my cushion and sunlight.
You enlighten my day
And your dares move my spines I say
Loving you will never be a mistake
For it’ll be a great venture to undertake
If your love is to be a lottery or super bet
I’m sure I will stake with all I get
For your my jackpot and last bet
And every time with you is like a reflection of myself
So, I feel so safe like a book on a shelf

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Poetry

TIME WITH YOU: The Beginning

Down the journey of life
We at times get blessed with a friend
Who stays closer than a husband or wife
Cooking our days like a kitchen trend.
Attacking us like a love Panduit
Always on our mind and dreams
And to such persons do we wish to sing heavenly hymns
For their smiles and lips
Is like they are curved out of our ribs
Our everyday crush
The very ones who cover all our thrush
It’s a fruitful beginning with your love
And more of your friendship do I pray to have.

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PainPoetryWar

AGYAPA-DE3 by Al-Latif Kambo-Naa

You’ve made some souls humble
Some are arrogant
And others quitters.

Like malt for the Guinness Company
You oiled the capitalist machine
To also make them happy
as you confused the socialist.

you invaded motherly care  of goldcoaster
through the backdoor of democracy
and turned it into hostile posterity.

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Poetry

Leaders Appreciation

I recite this piece
With so much gratitude and inner peace

And as a deer pants for water
So have I longed to educate people on this matter

On the very need to appreciate our leaders, especially pastors

like oil flowing down Aaron’s beard
They grace our occasions
And deliver us from temptations

They help us accomplish our visions
And build the fountains of our earthly mission

They sentence our weakness away
And awaken our strength everyday

Through the waves of their messages and healthy counsels

They wash our fears and wipe our tears

Even than the grave
They silence every storm and teaches us to behave

And like shepherds they lead us to greener pastures

Through their actions and undefiled composures

And when things go wrong

They correct us and fortify us to be strong

But since all may not have angelic personalities

So are there bad nuts among the fraternity

There are bad leaders and false prophets

Who stain the paint on good leaders in shame

All for their selfish gains

Corrupting the institutions

And polluting the populations

But that shouldn’t stop us from celebrating true leaders

Note that by their deeds you shall know if they are real or just actors

Honestly some pastors are a disgrace to the calling

Whilst others are still a blessing

So let’s appreciate the few to keep their rain falling 🍁

For indeed some pastors are good stewards

And do not deserve only to be heavily rewarded

They need to be motivated in cash and kind

To help encourage and push them from behind

For the impact of their grace

Has placed hope on several faces

For they impact lives and transform society

And their generosity and philanthropic activity has rescued many from captivity

And groomed great people in the society

Irrespective of their gender and ethnicity

So why don’t we appreciate them to full capacity

Kofi, Ama and you

Do appreciate your leaders and God will bless you

 

By DaCosta😍

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AdultApathyHopeInspirationalPoetry

TALE OF UNITY by Al-Latif Kambo-Naa

We walked through a glass street door
Poised to be back in saloon room
Shake by wagging tale of unity where
Leaves fell from the bulging tree.

Tugged into clean muddy waters
Of a family yawning off hunger
In a land of abundant fruits
Carrying a huge cross of regret.

Took a three-sixty day of reflection
Dying in self-pity of the past
Hooked by words of ancient tree and
Roots sprout in covered soft layers.

In a place where friend fielded
In for a for in an ambush for glory.
An elite league of African legends
substituted in agony for the norm.

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AdultLifePoetry

PERFORATED BASKET by AL-Latif Kambo-Naa

A perforated basket
Made on a yawning day
I was born.

Stashed through my hurried life
Into the parking garage of future
Guarding me jealously
Without a reason.

A perforated basket
Weaved under the thorny hands
Of a carpenter and seamstress.

Seen by storm and thunder
Carried through floods
Into an unknown gutter—life,
Clearing all goodies along

A perforated basket
Goaded and glared at me
For so long it became a neighbour.

A neighbour that swallowed all thought
Of suctioned life in its prime
Into the belly of mother Earth.

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