Four Poems
By Geosi Gyasi
Wednesday, July 2, 2014.
The
Cockcrow
Day-Night! At the spur of lilliputian voices!
Whistling nexus between countrymen and
refugees, they come to party.
Their strange voices awaken
To each and every one a day to recall
this epoch-making assembly.
In the King’s palace
Feathers washed and rewashed
Cleansing of the multitudinous years of
wandering.
After dawn, before the cock crows
The chief linguist sent to places far
and wide
Drums and flutes sound: sounding poems
of welcome.
In their camp, a poem of thanksgiving
enchanted
A tintinnabulation of bells in the
King’s honor
Whilst the cock crows, crows and crows.
Death?
From the beginning,
I am a funeral; ready to be
deposited into the abdomen
Of mother earth. A bunch of
luminaries encircle my lifeless
body, my bony skull already
make history. Paper and ink mixed
as blood bank, and flow swiftly as
words of poetry, rhyming from line to
line.
News about me flow like flood of
water,
reminiscing about the days of Noah. I
am
alone, yet not lonely. Many have gone
before me, sadly, more recent the
demise
of the storyteller Maya Angelou.
O, you death, you’re a sinner? I reach
out
to the Alpha and Omega, the beginning
and
end; and find consolation in Him. The
end
of death unknown to me –
darkness forever? I leave with tears in
the
eyes of many: sobbing, whimpering.
When shall you cease to exist? My arms
cold,
my writing hobbled. I become
unfinished,
like a seat of wood. Still.
Stock-still. Pregnant
with statue-like poetry. In my uterus
is the
fetus poem – Death?
Death? Who shall carry on?
Where are the brain surgeons?
Who shall test my blood samples? And
fish out my unfinished handiwork? I look
at the
soil dag out for me, six feet, and the
maggots
multitude. Yet gesture with a wave of
hand, bliss
in the air. I see in vague, though, as
a newcomer,
to this new world of darkness; thronged
with fellows
but old-guard writers. Dead. Gone. One
more goodbye,
explicitly to my devoted readers. Wipe
your tears,
warm your kerchiefs. Keep hope alive. I shall soon
return with a posthumous book of
poetry.
Emergency
By Geosi Gyasi
At the rim of the tunnel
Flowing labyrinth of waste cancer:
Polythene, plastic, rubber, clothes,
Papers, metals, wood, even water –
Hustling deep into a fissure
Only at a snail’s pace, until it locks
up
At the lip of the tunnel; pleading,
mercifully:
Let me flow,
Let me go.
Time flies, like a passing day
Waiting for tomorrow to arrive
But that day never comes
And the noxious redolence from the
tunnel
Travel our villages and even beyond:
To towns and cities.
Our children suffocate by night
While our fathers and grandparents
Vomit by day.
The sky is gloomy,
The
sky is miasmic.
An emergency looms in the corner
Years build-up of mountainous growth
Like a forest of muddled grasses
Yet we’re charged inflated taxes
Which travels swiftly into —
the crevices of undeserved pockets.
I wish I could take on the doctor’s
coat
And submit you and you into the
solitary
Emergency room, and castigate you there
and then.
Fool’s
god
Dent of hope
Forty something years of
Existence; still searching!
I’ve been ferreting
Quite unduly maddening
What I have not; so still searching!
Memories never robs off
it’s jacket, off me; what’s
the world come to?
Nothing is working
Working is nothing
All these years of hanging
On,
to:
Bosom
– the god in the forest.
All foolishness is mine:
Of several years of wastage;
Of several years in the wilderness;
Blindfolded,
Hoodwinked to execute
Hunger rites, bloodshed:
Of chubby goats, flabby
Chickens; perfervid belief.
I am still searching!
Geosi Gyasi is a Ghanaian writer and poet. Gyasi’s writing credits
include several poems published in online magazines like Kalahari Review,
Africanwriter NigeriansTalk. Gyasi blogs at GeosiReads.
Poetry By Geosi Gyasi
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