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.