Awake

Awake Ghana !

Feel th’ sunshine

The sun; no longer sweet after nine

Along cozy halls th’ sluggard gladly snore

Yet also a passionate Jamestown-folk

 Rolls his skiff

Yonder the bluish waters.

Up up sluggard! And yawn!

And quick ―Away to toil

Else you’ll grow long hands

Thy desert pocket as brown as harmattan roof

Morning fortunes sprinkles b’fore sun-hot

Go! Seek th’ world’s most gentle hustle

For th’ sun―a heartless beast after nine.


©Awuah Mainoo Gabriel
      African-spear

A shepherd’s song

And again eleven full moons hath tenderly dwindled

And th’ first tear of December

 Often comes with a certain boorish breath like winter’s

A green grass of green goes brown midst th’ ley.

Orr nay! Pasture folk

 Thou shouldn’t blubber like a donk― hee haw, hee haw!

Harmattan! You wanton phantom Duke!

Thou canst fade th’ world’s happiness; Nay!

 Thy term as short as mi damsel’s wink

Ev’n after thy death― and two moons and two after

Thou shalt miss th’ brilliance of nature in array,

Wye aye; th’ dancing of th’ motley molten mallows

And I, once again with a gleeful heart,

 Shalt gaze th’ flock graze amidst th’ ley.



   

   © African spear

 Awuah Mainoo Gabriel