Poetry By Geosi Gyasi

January 13, 2024
4 mins read

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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