200

‘To love what you do and feel that it matters – how could anything else be more fun?” – Katharine Graham.

‘Develop [an] interest in life as you see it; in people, things, literature, music – the world is so rich, simply throbbing with rich treasures, beautiful souls and interesting people. FORGET YOURSELF.’ – Henry Miller.

At 200 posts, I’ve captured the Katharine-Graham bonheur, and I’m working out the Henry-Miller joie de vivre. Thank you, reader/blogger, for coming along on this amazing journey.

You, Ugly Thing, Driving

Out of his car window, a male thing
Held out a cup of hot something
Watching the steam rise while driving
At dangerous rush hour this morning

The Electricity Company in 10,000 B.C.

Wednesday night, a prehistoric donkey
Turned off the power key
And went to chase Miss Toad
Leaving darkness on Spintex Road

Courting Nduom

They're courting Kwesi Nduom
To avoid the electoral tomb
I wonder what they'll give up
He might want a golden cup

Random Questions

Does pubic hair grow grey?
Can Election Christmas be merry, anyway?
Will the losing MPs be okay?
Should Barack close Guantanamo Bay?

Ghana's Elections 08 - The Final Assault

Small friendly groups
Discuss how party troops
Can quickly strike a blow
Be it high or low

Ghana's Elections 08 - All Over Again

All is said, and all is done
It's been tense, and it's been fun
We have to go through it all again
We must have a Prez by Jan 7.

Ghana's Elections 08 - Zero Hour

In less than one hour
The ultimate power
Will not be handed to one man
A whole new race is the plan.

Ghana's Elections 08 - Election Fatigue

Will speeches be as sparkling
And promises as daring
Will the electorate remain able
To remain unpredictable

Ghana's Elections 08 - Feelings about Round 2

Reluctance
Denial
Acceptance
Renewal

Ghana's Elections 08 - Midnight Press?

It seems today must end
With Afari-Gyan round the bend
Will he perhaps show the light
In the deep dead of the night?

Ghana's Elections 08 - Second Round Coming?

The official announcer is mute
But everyone has played his flute
Yet we face an extra round
Before a champion can be found

Ghana's Elections 08 - Premature Ejaculation

Drink is flowing wild
In the corridors of the unknown
Before the King is crowned
The subjects are deeply drunk

Ghana's Elections 08 - The Finish Line

With nearly ninety metres run
It's one step forward, two steps back
It just is not great fun
That both have below half the pack

Ghana's Elections 08 - The Weight of the Wait

The quiet, three-day wait
Is heavier, for most, by far
Than the last three months' weight
With the numbers running at par.

Hairy Legs

I'm crawling up your legs
With my flippant, flirty mind
I'm counting your unshaved hairs
Each a reason you're not my kind

Accra now Loves Flowers

Residential Accra is now favours fine flowers. What tells me so is all the comely ceramic vases, sundry seedlings and weft wickerwork that environ the streets of the city of Accra. Plus, there are many nurseries among wafer woods where rich people browse and buy one hundred far-flung species.

These flowers are expensive, I’m told. There was a time when flowers were either freely obtained in the city of Accra, or else the average Accraian home simply went bare. Plus maybe Accraian homeowners, with all the castles they build in the air, are becoming ‘civilised’. Or maybe the economy is just booming. Ha!

I have seen pinched places in Accra where if you planted the straitened people in your private pleasance, they would devour the petals, leaves and beds out of hunger. So, I don’t really feel civilised by festooning and garlanding the bare house I live in. But from an artsy point of view, it is good that Accra now loves flowers.

Shoe-Flirting with Lil Girl

I flew into Lil Girl (the first time) on a sun-kissed, blue-sky Thursday morning outside a court room. We huddled together – she, Kiz, Aby and I - exploring budding friendship; laughing; teasing and tempting; taunting and tantalising one another (not caring who witnessed). As Lil Girl played her batting eyes and raising brows all over me, her feet kept stepping on my soleil-shined shoes. We mock-kidded about magnetic attraction, and that day has brought us this far. If you asked her to recall what happened then, today, she would swear by the name of Sir Dalliance Flirton, that I was rather dancing all atwitter on her shoes, although she’d not bothered to polish them like mine. My defence against her velvet version, is that she has much the longer legs.

Big Feet

Feet as wild as yours
Could sweep the streets in aisles
They should be shod like a horse
Or tamed with emery files

At Least, Not More Than ...

I suffered the captain of the B Black Stars this morning, on Joy FM’s sports news, coolly declare that they would beat the B Super Eagles by ‘at least not more than 3 goals.’

Now, if you would permit me to go and make breakfast (by frying the egg that ought to be on his face) while you flounder at decoding his most-confusing cipher, I’m sure your high logic would gather my pain.

I’ve heard too many people deploy words, but especially phrases, that they don’t understand. I hear many say ‘at least’ when they clearly mean ‘at most’. But, ‘at least, not more than 3 goals’ is surely a medal-winning gaffe.

‘At least’ being a floor, and ‘at most’ a ceiling, I do not think the B Black Stars really intend to play in that match. What they seek to do is simply impossible for footballers ... or even politicians.