Poetry By Geosi Gyasi

January 13, 2024
4 mins read

Four Poems

By Geosi Gyasi

Wednesday, July 2, 2014.


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

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

A tintinnabulation of bells in the
King’s honor

Whilst the cock crows, crows and crows.


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

News about me flow like flood of

reminiscing about the days of Noah. I

alone, yet not lonely. Many have gone

before me, sadly, more recent the

of the storyteller Maya Angelou.

O, you death, you’re a sinner? I reach

to the Alpha and Omega, the beginning

end; and find consolation in Him. The

of death unknown to me –

darkness forever? I leave with tears in

eyes of many: sobbing, whimpering.

When shall you cease to exist? My arms

my writing hobbled. I become

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

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



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

At the lip of the tunnel; pleading,

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

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,

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

And submit you and you into the

Emergency room, and castigate you there
and then.


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



– the god in the forest.

All foolishness is mine:

Of several years of wastage;

Of several years in the wilderness;


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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