The Vim Views & Versions - Blogs of a MIghTy African

I hardly check my yahoo account, I check it once every two months or so. Or when I am expecting some important information that only goes there. Tonight, I started looking at my drafts. Emails I never sent. One of the drafts reminded me of when I first was in love. I mean that's what it had to be. Just read this email I was going to send to a lady. The whole email was written like a poem :-) Hey Ma, rhythmic huh? u want more? u can get more. good u liked the poetry piece wasn't written with ease Hope you are doing well is there any news to tell? Great news,  Now there are no rooms for an excuse I got u a ticket And it's not for a game called cricket Wednesday is the day to be on the go We are going to see Carmelo For me, it's been long overdue Looking forward to see you You have no clue How I am missing you. xoxo, It's Bambino, Ato. Lovely huh? This is a real email I was going to send. Pity that I never sent it. But hey, I sent messages like this to the lady j...

Look at this cool poem that Cecilia Amoafowaa. This is too awesome! Ɔdadeԑ bԑsene abrempong Ɔdadeԑ a ↄde neԑmapa wuso wiase Yԑbԑfrԑ wo nnyuma akrobԑto The unsinkable ship, The unshakable great tree, Your birth must be noted with grandeur! The MIGHTY AFRICAN with the spirit ‘CAN DO’ Lie on your back and take a rest Yes! A well deserving rest In just a day out of the many, Where you restlessly fret to see life’s best for all. Celebrating life’s celebrant must be done with sewn wordsthat sparkle This is the only gift from afar I can give For you to see the impact of your birth No need to say more, the sun is shining it out Beckoning the world to pay its respect On the score of the MigHTy AfriCan! Ɔdadeԑ Ato Ulzen Appiah a ↄsene abrempong Ɔdadeԑ a ↄde neԑmapa wuso wiase Yԑbԑfrԑ wo nnyuma akrobԑto        Happy, happy birthday!       Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia for the Mighty African Ɔdadeԑ Ato Ulzen...

I had not written a full poem in over 2 years. Every time I started to write one, I would stop at some point thinking it's not as good as the last few poems I had written. However, over the course of this year, I've had this idea of writing a poem to celebrate zouk . Over hiplife . Let's be real. I've been listening to zouk (and kizomba ) music much more than Ghanaian music - hiplife, highlife, raglife, poplife , etc - recently. I still love Ghana, if you ever doubt it, study how much I use the number 233 . If you can't figure out and understand the significance of the number 233 like that lady teller at UBA bank yesterday or the other GT bank teller in East Legon, then become aware. Everywhere. So I went ahead to write a poem tonight. I intentionally put on a Zouk music playlist to get me in the mood. Not in the mood for ' you know what ' but in the mood for inspiration to zouk the board by the keys and type up a Zouk poem . The idea was to write ...

I used to live life from the hip And then something came and really zouked me The familiar got different The life on a change The peculiar got consistent The thing don't change So I got into a relationship By then, the something had already hooked me Elles demandent attention to give, we know L's provident affection to give, follow Ma cherie as we demonstrate one love, that Is telepathy of doves above, phat Together, we are melodies that make music With another, we’re diversities tryna sync Danced to every cranny and nook Still got the naivety of a rook Lifes still contained in book after book Versus high-fives as open as zouk I stayed true to the homegrown beat I swayed anew to the exotic rhythm True, the outer enjoyment got hipper and livelier But the inner excitement got deeper and deeper The high life was all over amiss, true The zouk made me say I miss you I yearned for more Amor amor amor What I knew intoto was hip What was new was at my h...

In honour of Africa Liberation Day which is today may 25, I want to post this poem to pay tribute to where my heart calls home - Africa. #tobeAfrican is to love Africa, and love our sweet motherland. Happy #AfricaDay It takes a village to raise a child It takes a male child to start a village It takes a female child to educate them all In Africa One man’s inactive car Is many other men’s community service Because you will need others When your own car breaks down in Africa It doesn’t fall into winter And then spring into summer People may be raining away But life and warmth never run dry in Africa Tangerine tree, football field, sugarcane seller Very different but similar Who needs Mapquest? In directing and navigating All landmarks are on deck, in Africa What if the peanut seller is sick with malaria? There are a hundred and one people Minding and carrying their own business on the streets Of Africa who would give you some help Cock-a-doodle-doo, hold up, kokrokoo… Meat that has been ...

This is my second post this Valentine's National Chocolate Day. I was going to combine both posts but had too much to say in the first one . I have a poem to share with you all in the spirit of this weekend. It's a very special poem to me, because it is a love poem. Uuh. It's titled 'I would like'. I have debated well over a year whether to make it public and finally I have decided to let you all enjoy it. Well, I've performed it a couple times (spoken word) so it's not a huge secret and I've shared it with some friends as well. I wanted to keep the poem safe till I released it in my anthology or maybe, used it at a very very very special time. But hey, since I am unable to write poems these days for stupid reasons like "this poem better be better than the last poem", I figure I'll share the poem with y'all so I could be forced to write some new ones. It's easy to see why I chose this day, it's Valentine's Day, love is in t...

This poem was inspired by the Parable of the Sower - Matthew 13:18-23. Poem's called Know where to sow. Enjoy. Sown and grown on the wayside Well, it fell on rocks Thrown and grown along paths Trodden under by impact Shown and grown in good soil To reap the harvest of toil Rooted in filth and guilt Stemming from temptation Leaving the margin of right Nothing good for the receptacle The rains were mad last time This time, they made one sad Good fruit was borne however Through the nurturing of culture Fruit from good seeds grew Into yet another flicker of hope Favourable grounds helped to cope Into hearers and doers If oaks from little acorns should grow Then know where to sow

I remember writing this poem at a bus station somewhere in Upstate New York. I was thinking about a couple of girls and I decided to express those thoughts on paper. So it became a poem. I decided to try my hand at some Twi poetry as well though it didn't turn out too good. I just translated the English lines to Twi so if some of the translations are off, forgive and then correct me. I had titled this poem 'Who is me' but it really should be something like two women. So there, I present to y'all 'two women'. Enjoy. She is me She mirrors me But she is a mirage And she is just an image of me She is not me She shadows me But she is a window And her mirror doesn’t know me I follow the mirror My shadow follows me The mirror tells me I am fair My shadow tells me I am dark My mirror lets out my secrets My shadow is my best kept secret My mirror overshadows me My shadow mirrors my shade Sankofa sees my shadow Nkoso notices my mirror Do I want me Or do I want my shadow D...

Wanted to blog today but I don't have time so I will do what do when this happens. Put up an old poem. This poem is called Homicide. Wrote it a while ago. You can try and decipher what it means, that's the beauty of the language abi? Enjoy Like a masked murderer Radiant with love Knifing the apron strings That bound us to custom Like a patient poacher Endangering a life Leaving an ancestral stump After draining the sap Like a settling seed Seeking to rule the natives To improve its diversity Killing softly the inbred society Like a caring cutthroat To say a soothing prayer With a temporary temerity Enslaving the rich Like a pestering preacher To liberate the naïve yet Who came and taught nothing And burgled society’s education

The most recent poem I wrote. It's titled 'This time of the week' but am not talking about this time of the week, am talking about THIS time of the week. Enjoy :-) (PS: I must be missing someone :-D) This time of the week does not mourn Monday This time of the week teases the use of Tuesday This time of the week takes the words out of Wednesday This time of the week forgets there’s a Thursday This time of the week can fry the joy of Friday This time of the week satisfies Saturday This time of the week sunbaths Sunday It is a moment etched in time that the days envy This time of the week defaces the wall This time of the week alarms the walls This time of the week colors the calendar This time of the week marks the calendars This time of the week starts the arriving This time of the week completes the waiting This time of the week queries the questioning This time of the week does the answering This time of the week can sing the chorus The chorus which refrained from singin...

Frankly, I forget why I began writing about change. I don't know if this counts as a poem, it's basically a sequence of lines about change. But even changes have an end so I had to find a way to end a bunch of change lines. You can tell me whether I did a good job. Here goes, change is....... Change is what I wear every day Change is a constant k Change is a constant c, u c Change is seeing a different customer every day Change is having your peace disturbed Change is having your piece reduced Change is having your faith renewed Change is having your new dirtied Change is having your dirt publicized Change is having your Sunday Change is what you get after you get your sundae Change is what the seasons do Change is what the beggars press for Change is what the oppressed beg for Change is what we get when we travel Change is what we catch in our hands Change is what we grab with our hearts Change is what we stand for when others sit Change is why we are sitting when others stand...

I am due for a blog post and though I have some ideas coming up, I'll leave y'all with this poem titled 'Probeverbs' I wrote a long time ago. Probeverbs is a play on probing proverbs. Chaa. Proverbs are wise sayings alright but sometimes they can be questioned. I definitely questioned some and in this poem, I probe the sanity and sense in some proverbs. Don't know if you will all agree with these sentiments but hey, I sometimes live to challenge the status quo. Rebellion is sometimes fun. Here goes. Opinions are like noses Everybody has one Yet, each has its own smell A bird in hand Will fly away to the bush Because it is safe there He who laughs best Is really enjoying the show And will always laugh last When the cat is away The mouse will play Because it is his day A cat may look at a king If it is real hungry If not, the mouse is safe Dance like a butterfly Sting like a bee And end your life like a bee Speak up, be heard Speech is silvern, silence Not golden, it ...

I wrote this poem for March 6th, 2007, on the occasion of Ghana's golden jubilee. I made a slight modification for the occasion of Ghana's 52nd. It's titled "It's about time". Happy birthday Ghana and Happy Independence day to all Ghanaians! He knew himself before they knew him He moulted into the face they wanted for him But inside he wanted to remain the same He fought as he reddened He sold as he yellowed He destroyed as he greened He shined as he blackened He paced as he faced occupation He led as he fled domination It was about time Pregnant with positive action United as one at one Completely free at three Borders were not very sexy at six Divided came to a head at ten Went to pride land at twenty Happened to be thirsty at thirty Life had already began at forty Showing he is nifty at fifty About to be about that time It's kind of funny that He shaped his movement to Jacko's steps Before he knew what made Daddy move It's kind of funny that He ...

I am pulling out the poems one by one. There goes the anthology idea. Am I ever going to be able to write enough great poems to publish one? Time will tell. This poem is written for war torn countries when they are 'actually war torn'. I wrote this in March 2006 to commemorate the 12th anniversary of the Rwandan genocide. We thank God that human spirit triumphed over selfishness and Rwanda is moving on. Rwanda is slowly becoming 'krabɛhwɛ' (a place to watch) these days with the great work Paul Kagame is doing. It was specifically for the UCONN Africa Night, and it was recited by two lovely Ghanaian ladies who were at UCONN at the time. The poem was also inspired by the song, Rwanda, by Wyclef Jean, which was on the Hotel Rwanda soundtrack. Here goes the poem Rwanda, Rwanda We wonder, we wonder And leave others to ponder Why they wander, they wander Seeking red from black Staining their own back Blood is thicker than water Family is thicker than enemy We wonder who is fa...

I've been wanting to write a poem recently. I have a lot to say but I can't seem to bring myself to write it and write it well. After my 'A call to make a difference' poem, I have written about 3 poems, 1 of which I can't even find. 'A call to make a difference' was so good that every time I write a new poem, if I can't outdo it, I give it up and stop writing. This thanksgiving trip I took was my make or break time for writing a new poem so I tried. I tried so hard. I came up with something. While on the train to Rhode Island from Massachusetts, I was thinking. I was thinking about how I am just one person. You know how we sometimes wish we have more hours in a day? Imagine if we were 'two or three' people. 'We' could do more in a day for 'ourselves' and have a few more hands to do plenty things. I was thinking about how I was just one person, with just one vote, one voice, and one vociferous message. Because you are not me, you d...

I wrote a new poem guys. Well, not quite. Truth is, I edited a poem I wrote about AIDS to reflect thoughts on Malaria (Anti-Malaria). After attending the Boston AIDS Walk in 2005, I got so inspired about fighting AIDS, which is probably the most deadly disease known to man. HIV-AIDS affects a lot of Africans and at one point, I heard it kills hundreds of Africans each year and the disease is getting deadlier in other parts of the world. Anyway, I was pumped to do something about the AIDS epidemic after I took part in the walk. So I wrote about how that enthusiasm could probably die slowly day after day. It's the same for a lot of things. You hear about something really bad, you got worked up, and more often than not, the next day you are not as enthused and couldn't really care. Sometime from now, maybe we may be able to do a great deal to stem the tide and control the spread of these diseases or ready ourselves to make great strides to solving problems that just don't seem...

More blog downtime, so here is another poem. Yes, Obama won the election and I am very very very happy. I walk around with my shoulders up these days and that sense that I 'own' the world is even more prominent within me now. I do want to take a moment to thank God for what I have and how He has blessed me. I thank Him for people like Barack Obama who can inspire us. I hope he ends these 'two wars' America is fighting soon and amicably. I am also praying for peace, let's believe that we will have that all around the world sooner than later. Here's another 'war-child' poem I wrote on the same day I wrote this one . Enjoy. Life has laid its burden on thee! Oh, innocent son of Junta, Longing to see a Santa What has thou to live for? Bread or blood For the love of life, And the death of hate, Thou have to fight. Clear your sore eyes, Thy strength shows in your tears. Wash your filthy hands, Thy blood is no different. Blow your hollow cheeks, Thou have never ...

I am praying for peace in the Democratic Republic of Congo now and for peace before, during and after the presidential and parliamentary elections in Ghana. Below is a poem I wrote with a cousin about peace in 2004. It's been a while, I have to write something new. He came mild Into the wild To be trained to be wild Oh, poor child Trekked here via Freetown and Monrovia But he ain’t free, you see Found and bound by refugee A child grows To star in fiery shows No room for a doze or pose As death comes as close The future has arrived It arrived too early The mantle is here alright To fight already Taken as freedom’s hire Shaken by gunfire Overtaken by rebels’ ire Making justice the desire Strong child of Adam The hurt hurts some And comes home to Buduburam Together with the same some We watch but we do not see We look but we do not see We stare as we drink tea While bread is not free He won it with a fight This song would not last long The child is at war with wrong And we fail to see...

I am on a poetry posting spree. I wrote this poem when I was in Presec in 2000. As a matter of fact, I performed it during the Mr. Presec competition in which I was 3rd. The poetry recital was excellent but I terribly flunked the traditional highlife dancing segment, which I believe cost me the grand prize. I believe, I am adept at dancing to highlife music now, if you don't believe me, catch me at your next Ghanaian party. Up till now, I haven't received my Woodin shirt(s) prizes for grabbing bronze. They must have lied to me. But I still have the poem that confirmed to me that I had a career in spoken word and poetry performance. I still remember some of my Presec mates teasing me with "Ato, are you dreaming, are you dreaming" after the contest. Well, the poem, here it goes. Building castles in the air Cement your imaginations Build your rocky emotions Yet, don't throw your hands in the air Out of tranquility, an outburst To build a city in days the worst Make k...

In the summer of 2004, I found myself in Ghana. I was participating in an MIT student initiative called MIT-Africa Internet Technology Initiative (MIT-AITI) . During my time in Ghana, the GhanaConscious me was disappointed with the attitude of Ghanaians to their own country and the general lack of patriotism. As you can imagine, that quickly changed when Ghana went to the World Cup in 2006. 'It' is in us, just in case you were wondering. Well, like I said, this was 2004. I was in a dilemma so I wrote a poem called Dilemma. They bother to watch but do not see They bother to listen but do not hear They bother to think but do not act I am encouraged and frustrated I am hopeful and doubtful They do not win today If the better pays more than the good I will turn right to the right Comfort is not a secure fort I have driven this route before But I just saw this junction I am enthused and confused I am curious but furious They will not sway me today If my mind agrees with my hand and...