Poets are the most emotional beings on the planet.
They are easily hurt, easily excited.
Easily broken, easily motivated.
They love easily,
And, to hate, respond equally.

Poets love to have fun,
Yet sometimes do run
back to the quiet place they usually hide.
They are not easily understood,
But they understand every single tune,
that life decides to play for you.

Poets love to read;
and to be read,
They like to decipher every line that they see;
They know the importance of words;
And how words can shape the world.

They have the power to settle disputes
And bring peace and harmony.
They have the power to raise objections
And help those being treated unfairly.

At some point they can seem perfect,
But life teaches them to be circumspect.
They know the definition of every idea,
But ask them about the meaning of love
Or poetry,
And all they would produce for you are poems, with varied emotions.

(C) EA Akonnor

Pray for me, Mama.

Had a call in the morning,
It said mama is sick, she needs some money;
I don’t want to see my mother mourning.
Yet, what’s left on me won’t be enough for medicine.

I take my phone and swipe the screen,
What if I bet on Chelsea to win;
What if I add more games to my slip,
What if… What if…
What if I lose what’s left on me?
Mama, if I get a plethora of money,
If ‘mybet’ smiles on me,
I’ll send you all the money,
Let the notes wipe those tears for me.

But Mama, betting is risky;
And there’s zilch I know about probability.
Or lottery;
I sweat every time on the street;
And sometimes in bushes;
Smoking. Weed. Defecating.

I feel defeated, so remember me in prayer;
I feel depressed;
And the world is so lone without a friend.
I want it all to stop;
I want those tears to stop.

So pray for me Mama;
Pray for Chelsea to win.
I may win some Ghana cedis,
You may have all your medicine.

Pray for me;
So I stop betting;
So I stop smoking…
And the weed…
And defec… Maybe not in bushes.
I need a turn around, so pray for me Mama.

(C) EA Akonnor

And now She’s Married

I looked on as he married the woman I loved;
Nothing I could do about It,
That’s what she said to me,
The woman I loved.

There are two mountains on a woman’s body,
And each of these mountains divide at the centre,
I watched my woman as she stood at the altar,
“It should be me.” I said.

She used to hear my whisper from afar,
Those days when my love was still in her heart.
It should be me.
Why did you leave me?

When her eyes turned and saw me in the crowd,
She smiled. I smiled.
Deep within me were tears,
That flowed right into my soul.

He was handsome,
A man every woman would feel proud to have.
Thoughts started flooding my mind,
My woman had left me behind.

This is the last and only time that I will feel whole.
I remember the bride’s maids looking at me,
I wished they were hoping I would say something,
When the priest asked for objections.

At least one of us deserved to be happy,
I was fortunate to be there
To watch the love of my life take a vow
To love somebody else for the rest of her life.

My next stop
would be the drinking spot.
Everyone knew she was my girl,
But her parents wouldn’t care.

And when it comes to break ups and the heart,
No matter how sweet the words
are said
You’ll still get hurt.

I had mine on a cold rainy Sunday night,
She cried. I tried.
Her words were cold that night.
Guess she knew I wouldn’t give up the fight.

And there she was,
Staring into his distant eyes.
Perhaps hoping to find a bit of me in there,
When all I had ever been was there…

Wishing she would say ‘no.’
But she never did
And now she’s married
With three boys, and one named after me.

These Pictures I Hide

Looking at you
In that grace and perfection,
I look too much at you,
It’s my only perversion.

Maybe I like you
Or maybe I’m just in need of attention.
I wish to say you’re beautiful,
But can’t say it right without the emotion.

So I just smile, anytime you do too,
And I save them, anytime you upload.
I know my words are mostly few,
And I may not be the one for which you upload.

I just want to understand how you make me smile.
With these beautiful pictures I hide.

When she calls me Jealous

At this moment, someone wished I called her;
And told her how much I cared about her.
Or just be silent at the other end of the phone,
Making her feelings wander alone.

Yet, at this very moment, I might still be trying to reach this other girl –
This might be my seventh try calling my girl.
She might be annoyed at the incessant rings from her phone,
How she wished I left her alone…

At this moment she might be on her bed,
Asking herself again, and again, if I cared.
Or if for once I’d come around,
She wouldn’t mind having my head crowned.

But at this very moment, I might still be in bed –
These frequent unanswered calls pain my head.
She might be merrying somewhere with someone else somehow,
Sometimes beauty makes a good heart feel like a clown.

And then the entire world would collide at twelve;
When the one who loves you calls you wicked,
And the one you loved has your heart-felt love shelved…
When you have no choice but to concede being defeated.

He who wins is on the other side of the triangle;
And he has no clue how I feel at my angle…
He would sleep soundly tonight, dreaming of my Angel,
And how each smile of hers made her even more adorable.

But me, my world would collide at twelve,
When the one I love calls me jealous.
Yet he who wins is on the other side of the line,
Saying goodnight and how he had a great time.

She might call to see if I’m still awake;
She might call to see if I’d pick up.
At this very moment I might be giving my heart away,
To the quiet taste of the drink in glass cups.

Never Love Again

After you,
I’ll never love again.
After you…

Shredded my kiss upon your lips,
And saw my tears ran down your eyes.
You didn’t mind.

I’ve loved those lies you couldn’t keep,
Wondered if you cared my heart broke within.
You didn’t care.

After you…

Why do I still cry for you…
‘Cause I know I’m just another fool,
Who can’t stop being in love with you…

And when my kiss falls on your lips,
Tell me,
Does it move you at all?

‘Cause I tremble at your touch…
And your lies – they frighten my heart,
But will it ever be enough?

Will it ever be enough…
After you…

I’ll never love again…
And I’ll never love again,
After you are done loving me.

Going Home to my Wife

This evening, going back home…
I can’t wait to see the sight of my wife’s fufu,
She said it at dawn;
“Darling, today, don’t take long…”

And I remember clearly,
Because everyone knows,
That besides their wives’ beauty,
Black men do not joke with their food.

Especially fufu – if it comes with abunuabunu,
Or palmnut soup,
or groundnut soup,
or any other African soup.

Hm… lightsoup!

I have no idea what this beautiful African lady will cook…
Or she’ll prepare banku?
Eei, Adwoa Baby will kill me.
This woman can be mysterious with her meals.
But that’s what gets me –
Me and my African lady.

Will it be rice?

No. Adwoa knows me better –
Better than any other.
Enough to know that rice affects a black man’s tummy,
Especially when eating in his home country.

It’s time.
Let me go home now,
The thigh of the chicken is mine.
Let me go home now…

To my sweet wife;
To my beautiful African wife.
Let me go home now
I’m going home now.

Giving up

The inevitable became a new found enemy,

But it stared at me;

It laughed at me,

Then I realized villains do love me.

But if I was the victim of a tattered heart,

And another love comes breaking my heart,

Do I still open my bruises for more salt;

Will it not be my fault?

There are days when lovers go to bed with a heavy heart;

There are days when they just want to give up,

Because love is hard,

And it’s even harder giving up.


It is that which makes us,
It is that which breaks us.
It is that which creates us,
It is that which kills us.

Family shows us love much more,
Family shows us the door.
Family shows misery a laughter galore,
Family shows merry the need to ignore.

It is that which brings much tears,
It is that which calms our fears.
It is that which creates billionaires,
It is that which rids the poor of shares.

Family shows us the thickness in blood,
Family shows us clotting renders blood bad.
Family shows us the clot has our pain clad,
Family shows us the needlessness in being sad.

For family some days you’ll cry,
For family some days you’ll smile.
For family some days you’ll need to sacrifice,
For family some days you will be the sacrifice.

It is loving and hating at the same time,
It is hurting and mending at the same time,
’cause even in our parting, we’re still entwined,
And we say this when we have family defined,

I won’t fight with my brother,
I will take care of my sister.
I’ll marry a girl like my mother,
I’ll show much more care than my father.

Family is what makes us,
Family is what breaks us.
Family is what creates us,
Family is what kills us.