Let Peace Be

When nightmares of our virulent past-

sharp knives of discord-

threaten to sever our bonds of unity,

when wars and strife

greet from the left and the right,

do not cave in, brother;

hold fast to the things that keep hope alive.

Let peace be,

let it be.

Let peace be

lo, let it be

still as the calm waters of Bosomtwi,

unperturbed as a graceful princess in her beauty sleep.

Do not stir.

Stoke no fire with your wild thoughts,

cooking strange tales of things unperceived.

Restrain yourself

from adding fuels of emotional prejudice to the destroyers’ fire,

burning our aspirations to ashes!

Be bold to quench the raging infernos stoked by single stories

and save tomorrow’s golden dreams.

Let peace be,

Please let it be!

Resist their plans to make you

the purveyor of the social gangrene.

Don’t spill out the unguarded words they feed you with

 to fester sour wounds of the dark days much like septic needles,

multiplying our pain and heightening our wail.

Yea, let us slow down on the divisive acts

that plunge Africa into perpetual wahala

and amplify the sisters’ tears many fold.

Stop acting like it’s only your brother who needs food,

let the people have their bread too

lest their fury burst like a volcanic earthquake

to smash all we’ve built over the years,

setting us back to the stone age.

Surely, it must be no complex puzzle to pursue peace

From day one nature bestowed it on us

as imprinted in our DNA .

Make no mistake about this: fairness is the key,

we can only have peace when we

Provide Equal Access to the Country’s Economy

Let it be!

Let peace be!

The Word

Spoken from heavenly heights
descending to these earthly realms
the word dwells among us,
ever transcending yet sure,
ever potent,
directing our course
to the end of time.
 Selah!

Knowledge is free

Don't sharpen your legal axes
only to hack the members
of the knowledge tree
you should know
knowledge, like a baobab tree,
cannot be encircled wth one's hands.

Ask Kwaku Ananse, the tricky spider
who dared,
racking his brains to near-explosion,
to gather all wisdom known to humans
the return of all his drudgery
t'was futile indeed!

Truth is you don't know it all
you can't know it all
neither can I stake such a claim
why don't we instead drink
from our common wisdom pot
gaining nourishment, strengthening everyone
for the world's good?

Knowledge is one ware
though shared remains still
and grows many folds
like microbes in a rich medium.
Umuntu ngumuntu ngabantu,
the world's knowledge belongs to us all
knowledge is free!

BOOK SYNOPSIS: TALES FROM DIFFERENT TAILS, BY NANA AWERE DAMOAH

Nana Awere Damoah, an engineer and writer, is someone I admire and look up to a lot. He is about to launch his third book titled Tails from Different Tails. Read a short synopsis of what to expect from the book:

Everyone has a price and… their broom. You either name the price or find the broom that sweeps them off their feet!

October Rush
The new academic year has started and school is under siege. Reason? ‘October Rush’. Heads keep turning as students struggle to juggle academic work with relationship wahala. The freshers are tagged New Stock, sophomores as Reduce to Clear while final years are Buy One Get On Free. Follow ‘October Rush’ as it tells the intricate story of University romance. For some, it is learning the ropes, for others it is a do or die affair. Find your feet in this hot, intense, and pacey affair. The Rush is on!

Truth Floats
It is true that the one who you save the bullet for might be the one pulling the trigger. So the story goes that Kweku Ananse took the meat right out of his bosom friend, Akoto’s, mouth when he stole Ama Adoma from him. But it is also true that when they lie they will lie again because the deception never end. Amidst the lies and disloyalty truth comes to light like a calabash that has been forced in water. All said and done, did Ama fall for Kweku? How did Akoto find out about his fiancé, Ama’s, true love for him? This story teaches the values of patience, perseverance and love in the face of lies.

Dribble de Zagidibogidi
Vengeance is of God but can the human mind truly forgive and forget? Zagidibogidi (Randy) is accused of brutally raping Rose, the only lady he would catch the moon for. As things turn out, Rose is the only one who could save him from going to jail. Wicked twist? Rose has fallen into coma. But help comes from strange places. Babyface, Randy’s lawyer, vowed to do his best to prove his client’s innocence. Will justice be denied by it being delayed? Could there be some unfinished business with Babyface on Get Even Day? Revenge must be sweet when served cold and slowly…it is payback time! Yes, a broken mirror can be patched but the crack will forever be there.

Hope Undeferred
The elders say women are supposed to sell garden eggs not gun powder. But Araba’s heart aches for Kwesi. What risks can a young lady take in making her love known to the man she loves? Should she go ahead and propose love? For the most haunted spinster in Assin Kabrofo, it is only a matter of time before she loses heartthrob Kwesi. This unwritten law in African setting is eating away this beautiful village queen. But do African gods condone breaking gender ranks? Hope can only be held onto with hands and feet. And with prayer that it is not dashed to pieces as pottery on the rocks that line the banks of River Ankobra.

Kojo Nkrabeah
The only stories villagers hear of the city is that of glamour with streets paved with gold, money hanging on trees and the taps overflowing with milk and honey. This story shatters the dream of city life for Kojo Nkrabeah and Akwasi Poku. Akilipee has come to Moseaso from the city with well embellished stories. These stories lured the orphaned Kojo Nkrabeah and his friend, Akwasi Poku. In their haste to escape their mundane village lives, they learn the hard way where the grass is green. This is not your ordinary village-to-city story but one that immerses the reader into the best of both worlds.

Guardian of the Rented Well
Akos is a married woman who wants her book published. Benson wants everything in skirt. How does he draw the line between pleasure with this taken lady and the business at hand? This story shows the resolve of married women and the extent to which they go to show or betray love and trust.

Was it Akos who coveted Benson to get her way? Or it was Benson who risked his life guarding the rented well. What has all this got to do with Lieutenant Patrick Atiemo? Something has to give, but what? Follow this maze of a crazy love affair gone terribly wrong …

Face to Face – Trotro Palaver
If you have not taken a trotro, aka troski in Ghana, then either you are not a Ghanaian or haven’t visited Ghana. The ordinary man’s means of transportation in Ghana comes with lots of hustle and drama. The tight seating arrangements, the conversations, the potpourri of smells the laughter, gossips, the political debates as well as the twists, turns and trickery to outwit the police. This adventure brings you face to face as we take a short winding yet hilarious ride in the old Morris troski, with registration number ABC 4037. Join Akwasi the aplanke (drivers mate) who holds a PhD in cunning, slippery mathematics and his master, Massa Kojo, the man who uses a toothpick in his mouth like a ceiling brush, as they drive us from Pig Farm to Circle.... vroooooommmmmm.......Away bus!

Project Akoma
When the heart decides, it is the mind that plans. A message sent to the mind simply reads: “I have found my desire—my missing rib,” and sets the brain in motion. Stories of human love always go with sorrow, joy, deceit, unfailing dedication and jealousy. To win the heart of this striking beauty of eve’s daughter, he must climb the seven skies and back, he must scale the China wall to profess love and win her heart. A moving rollercoaster of a love story which takes readers through the steps to win Adjoa’s heart. This was so delicate and complicated it had to be handled like a final year project work on a University campus. Was this another happily ever after tale or a masterpiece of storytelling with sting at the very end?


Tales from Different Tails will be launched on 1 December 2011 at the Teacher's Hall Complex near Workers' College and Tigo Headoffice, Adabraka, Accra, at 6pm. This is Nana Awere Damoah's third book, the first two being Excursions in My Mind (2008) and Through the Gates of Thought (2010).

How the youth got angry

First they snatched jobs from our parents hands,

sending hunger pangs running down our stomachs

Next they jumbled up school systems, switching syllabi on and off like their bedroom lights

The fields were left desolate, as poisoned water, condensed from their greed, descended from the skies

When they desecrated the holy temple of the most high,

all hell broke loose.

There Goes My Teacher

I

There goes my teacher,

The one who brought us up by hand,

His steps are as sure as Afadjato

And his movements as graceful as an eagle’s.

There he goes with his wonderful books

Smiling brightly and ready to serve.

II

There goes my teacher,

The mastermind,

His body beams radiant energy

And his mind floods with amazing knowledge.

There he goes, his chalk ever ready,

To the classroom

Where eager students await his impacting lessons.

III

There goes my teacher,

His ways much like the resolute farmer

Who patiently tends fertile and non-fertile soil alike.

He strives to enrich them with his wit and craft,

And plants the seeds that’ll surely bloom.

IV

There goes my teacher,

The skillful builder and master smith

Whose hardwork restores the nation’s hopes.

There he goes laying bricks of discipline

Bonded together with the mortar of correction.

His sweat truly forges us

Into men and women of integrity.

V

There goes my teacher,

The humble one, the suffering one

Whose back is as solid as a mountain

Never aching for a minute.

There he goes lowering himself like steps

In great sacrifice, while others climb to glory.

VI

There goes my teacher

The most disdained of all workers.

Yea, foolish youth call him “common chalk holder”

Yet his chalk builds their future,

Each stroke lays one more brick.

VII

There goes my teacher

Though great yet a beggar

He begs not for favour or for waiver

only for some of life’s little comforts:

a roof over the family’s head

good food to keep body and soul in one piece

good education for the children’s tomorrow

four wheels to get around with ease

smashing bright kente for Sunday service

a trip or two to cheer the family

and enough to put away against retirement.

My teacher demands not paradise, not even heaven

Just enough comfort to live here on earth

VIII

There goes my teacher,

My good old teacher

His graceful steps now eroded

by years of overwork and depressing pittance

Injustice now stares him blankly in the face

As the grave speedily beckons

There he goes full of the misery

That scares the young from ever holding chalk

Empty classrooms will soon foretell

The first signs of national gloom and doom

The shooter and the killer

A photographer

is a shooter but not a killer.

The real killer lurks subtly under his gaze, his very view,
not hiding in obscure hidden places,
but readily perceptible through his lens.
Her power kill is latently dulled in the moment.

Then she rallies to action!
Unleashing graceful body movements and radiating smiles
and the spark in the eyes is a crucial weapon.

Yet there is no death
only furious rising of emotions, and passions if you like.

The shooter in self defence assumes a posture of alertness
quickly drawing his weapon, and pressing the trigger

which results in the capture, albeit virtual, of the killer.
The image remains to tell the story...

A first Haiku

The words dance to me
moving slowly with great grace
"Tender, beauty's here"

Kpokakpoka

Many moons have gone by
Since I meant to start a revolution
A clarion call to action
A youth propelled movement that'll gain traction
Together we'll fire
Mental shots of change and progress
To herald the start of a new dawn
Just listen to the sound kpoka! Again? kpoka!

Chase the cheaters and the eaters
Who're like barriers in the path of the cheetahs
Stalling progress with their tethers
But with ricocheting shots
Shots of mental action emanating from thought
We reverse the age of retrogression
Here we go kpoka! Louder KPOKA!

The scourge of dis-ease
Plaguing the people of the nation
Sapping energy, reducing productivity
Let's end its menacing reign
Bring the mental weapon into action: kpoka!

There goes poverty too
That wicked depressor
Notorious for killing dreams thus engendering social ills
Break down its dominating prison
With bullets of determination
Loaded in our mental gun
Fire kpoka! fire kpoka!

Though thieves and robbers who raid the streets at night
wield massive weapons of power
We'll shake not, we'll hold our shores
Ours is the super weapon of resistance
That'll scatter theirs into smithereens!
Hehehe kpoka! kpoka! Haha kpoka!

Against illiteracy and ignorance, kpoka!
Against corruption and poor governance, kpoka!
Against sloth and laziness, kpoka!
Against filth and poor sanitation, kpoka!
Herald the new dawn of youthful thoughts of resistance
Metamorphosing into action and improvement
Change Africa, kill the backwardness
Kpoka! Kpoka kpoka!

Rising Cheetahs

Inspired by TEDxYouthInspire

Here comes Africa's new breed

Who're offsprings of the planted seed

The youthful ones who'll clear every need

Through the knowledge they get from the books they read

To Zion our people they shall surely lead

And ensure that the masses are truly freed

They're the ones when bogged down

And suppressed with thoughts of gloom

Just spread out their mighty wings and take flight

Take flight on wings of attitude powered by determination

I smile when I think of you

My heart glows when I hear your voices

And when I see you my face shines

For you have become the joy of my life

In the midst of this hostile weather you're the refreshing breath of air

Like a rose your words are fresh and scented and inspiring!

For you make me dare to dream

That love my hands could dare reach

Though we may not be rich

True joy for the land you do preach

I Stand Redeemed

By Godiva Lucille Amenu (Cookie Lu)

sometimes i breathe in just to see how deep my insecurities sink

emotions cannot be suppressed for so long so i speak and it drips

like fresh honey leaving a faint remainder of what should have been

like an empty vase i feel liberated; just for a little while see it doesn't last long

dancing in a limbo of a tear jerking heart and too many unspoken words and

stifled mourning, i smile but it never quite reaches the brim of my eyes


i seek an inner peace which man cannot render unto me because

that which is not assured cannot keep me safe and secured

i seek life, one which is everlasting and awakens the dead bones

lying dormant in the pit of my soul, i want to be made whole so i will

no longer have to lose hope when i'm tied in a rope and with dashed goals



so i'm walking with my Father, my King, i'm trusting and loving Him

because in the quiet whisper of dawn when i'm down on my knees

and drowing in my pain and grim with clouded vision and haunting dreams

He pulls me up and cleanses my being, now when i laugh, u can tell from my beam

ive been redeemed, what shall i say unto my Lord? all i have to say is thank you, akpe akpe.

Happy Birthday!

Like gold and all the spritely ornamently things of this world
Our friends illuminate our moments with beauty and charm
Unlike these ornaments they bear life and emotion and passion
That fuel our daily experiences with such zest and completeness

Yearly, just as all objects of life
They're bestowed with age and growth and maturity
Emerging into the capable people who shape the destiny of the planet

As you notch up a year older
May life's beautiful angels smile at you broader

A very happy birthday, friend

Reminisce

By Michael Kwame Dakwa

You passed through my night

...and long after sleep was gone
you lingered as an unshakable mist,
reminding me of the
heartache that is the hole
your words once held their place...

world of silence

aboard a trotro, by the right window side,

emotions running bare, with the shared rythms of calming music through my earphones,

peeping outside the window, in search of answers to this 'self inflicted pain'

moving steadily, like the the tears streaming from the bleeding in my heart...
...since its bloodyness will be too frighting to view by onlookers.

Like an answer to my search, i see the machine...ending with the last alphabet...
A machine which caught my attention...and paused my heart for a second.

whithin this attention, i saw my visions on the right seat, with comfort which this trotro denied me...

then the bleeding paused into a world of silence and peace.

Untitled Verses

Running from the depths of my emotion
in the fields where feelings are manufactured
I still feel its nauseating pangs
this loneliness could be a killer

At day it dominates my utmost thoughts
at night it becomes my 'undependable' companion
as even sleep eludes my eyes
and anxiety rules all the way through

It started when you packed your baggage
and quietly walked out of the door
that rainy night several moons ago
then I indulged myself in great pretence
that my soup was not as salty and the bed just warm enough
nay! For I fooled even myself

The solution lies in my mind, I reckon
or perhaps the control of the disposition of the spirit
I'd search far and near for what I hope to be the cure
yet for now let me contend with these untitled verses

The lonely eagle

-->

Up above in the skies I see

My kind soaring above

Revelling in their might

Their song sweet to sing

Especially in the nights

Here I am a lonely eagle on the ground

Flight seems like fright

And soar like sore

My wings are clipped

And my dreams almost gone

Yet I know like all eagles I must fly

I know home lies in the sky

I am an eagle son of the sky

Homeward I will head

But until my frail wings become fortified with enough keratin

The ground remains my humble abode