An Ode To "poetry Legends" and "Poets".

    Ahoy! people of equal thought(s) (poets).
    On this Island the tempest brought us,
    Now to he the survivor,
    The Boatswain, who Saws't drown,
    Go tell the the world
   The poetry legends are alive and well
   And their arts once be the breath and jolliness of the world.
   
    Let the world know we made
    The sore-palm clapped to cheer.
    We are those who count the stars with the thumb.
    Trust us holy sinner, you need repentance,
    Have faith in us
    Our arts will buy you a new life.

    Go tell the fletcher we need harmless arrows
    Our creative minds at war
    not to fight but to write,
    Not to kill but to heal.

    A grenade will ruin your life,
    But a cheerful sonnet will allay your strife.


    poetry is heaven and heaven is poetry,
    your choice,
     poetry or hell?
    We are the architects of the "Biblia"
    We build and furnish the mind that yearns for heaven,
    Heaven has no key,
    our ancient arts is the tunnel,
    If you dont have faith in your leaking roof,
    Not the powerful Psalms,
    They will bless your ways to the fullest of glory
       
    Poesy is life and life is poesy,
    Be born a pious poet
    And live life to the utmost
    Or be born a gullible ambassador of piety.

    Above creation,honors,perfections,and brilliance of man
    The learned poet stands firm at the apogee.
   
    Boatswain!
    Now that your service is half done,
    Ride on a grey horse to my maid
    And bid her my deepest love,
    perhaps she may weep, but for a night
    And tell her to serve my guests the finest things,
    For we'll dine with the poetry legends tomorrow.

    Boatswain!
    your dusty heel wants freshness
    halt by an ancient sweet well,wash and seek blessing,
    Then recline and blink a forty winks of your wearied eyes
    Then roam not afar in dream
    And at dawn,
    Awake and reach the snoring legends in their wooden Mansions.
   
    Inform "Shakespeare" of tomorrow's banquet,
    Inform "Awunor" of tomorrow's banquet,
    Tell "Garvey" of tomorrow's banquet,
    Tell "Coleridge" of tomorrow's banquet
    Then invite "Keats" to my castle,
    And them legends too deep in sleep,
    Be bold and tap them shoulders thrice and again
    And bid them not to be late.

    Boatswain!
    Now that thy mission is consigned,
    Take this poem,worthy than riches
    Then at the rise of a tempest,
    Sing as lullaby to the roaring sea,
    Then hours late,give me the lie
    If its harshness still be pompous.
   
    Boatswain!
    The legends await.
    lets ride to my castle on a pregnant donkey to cheer.
    O, cheer this day! O, cheer the day!
    Ahoy! poetry legends lets share the mystery of our faith.
   
                     © Africanspear
                 Awuah Mainoo Gabriel
   

   
   
   
   
   

Journey Of The Dead

              Journey To The Dead
        (In Memory Of Daniel Kodjo Ngula)

   
    So in the temple of saints
    Laid Lord Ngula,
    And round his monument
    Stood firm the angels of celestial peace,
    Whom in their unstained hands                       

    Bestowed the sword of eternal elation   
    And at the tip of this sword;
    Good old thanes like Lord Ngula have bled.       

    Today Lord Ngula shall go counting;
    Counting the stars that glowed yesterday,               
    Counting the good he did to men,
    Counting the scars he left on men
    And one by one every action
    In his heart shall be counted,
    For once he fell and for once every man shall fall.           

    Wandering wearied and weak in woods of death,
    Lord Ngula shall  not go hunting tomorrow,
    So within these serene walls,
    May his soul set to snore with shadows
    Laid in celestial rest.                           



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