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The Chekosis came by
The cockroaches flew by
Telling the Dagombas: Peace! Peace!
This poem tells you to submit yourself to Law
And pay homage to Gbewaa Kingdom.
Do not be part of rebellion
For you will become an ingrate.
This poem is yours and mine.
They ask you concerning
“What is law?”
A question that is embarrassing to jurist
A subject about which lawyers are confused,
As the question: “What is fact?”
Sounds so funny to logicians.
And the matter: “What is Truth?”
Looks so lunatic to politicians.
The company receptionist
Is also tired of saying ‘Welcome’ to clients
For the clients might not have come well.
Oh! Read this pretty piece of prize
In it are worthy words of wisdom
This poem is yours and mine.
This poem is love
And the poet loves you too,
And encourage you to love
Those near and far you
So that you become the light
For the blind,
Because this poem is yours and mine.
They ask you concerning your source.
Your source is your ancestry, out of clay.
And your breeding is from sperm
From sperm to embryo
And from embryo to zygote.
Then she bore you in pain and weakness.
So this poem tells you to be humble and pray:
“Oh! God, have mercy on my parents.
As they cherished me when I was young.”
This poem is yours and mine.
This poem tells you to always keep a smile
For you were not created to frown your face.
A one-second smile drives away million devils
And unlocks your success.
And when you are to pass by futility
Then pass by it with dignity,
And don’t make a promise you can’t fulfil.
This poem is yours and mine.
This poem tells you to love your enemies
But it warns you not to trust them.
If you were born to be loved by all,
You would certainly have been laughed by all.
The poet of this poetry preaches,
Yet he is not a man of God.
The poet loves you,
But you can hate him if you wish.
He teaches you wisdom,
Yet he is not wise.
This poem gives you freedom,
Yet the poet is not free.
He is always engaged
In enquiry into the difference
Between legal and morality,
A topic about which the jurist
And the men of God argue.
They ask you concerning
“What is problem?”
A question that terrifies managers.
A question mathematicians
And researchers deliberate on.
This poem tells you to define where you are
And where you want to go,
And quantify the cost of the gap between them.
Then, you have defined the ‘problem.’
This poem is majestic
And it pities you who mock at the poet. Because
This poem is yours and mine.
When your skin becomes a broad sheet of paper
And your blood becomes ink
And your ribs become pens
Your shadow shall write about
All that you discussed under the fence,
And the deeds of the parts of your body.
Where you placed each piece of sperm,
Whatever you did take,
Wherever you foot printed,
And whatever you tasted,
Shall be questioned against you.
So this poem warns you to be careful
And asks your neighbour to be careful,
Because of the fact that
This poem is yours and mine.
Why do you say what you do not do?
When you know that your shadow
Shall prove you wrong?
This poem warns against every sinful liar
Every slanderer and every backbiter.
Again, why do you say what you know not?
Indeed, shame awaits you the day
The hidden shall be laid open.
This poem is humble
So read it with humility
And receive equanimity.
When the Samarians paid homage
To the iron calf,
After their rescue from bondage
The poet stood there and took record
Of proceedings of ingratitude,
Yet the poet is less than a year.
This poem is written by a stupid poet
And you can call him whatever name.
But know that the poem belongs to you and me.
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Writer Profile
Wahab ibn Hassan
I am a beginning poet, writing poetry with patience.
I am a Ghanaian from a typical rural settlement called Cheo in the Yendi District of the Northern Region of Ghana.
I love writing and making friends who have synonymous thoughts with mine, so that we can join forces for fun and freedom.
I live with my wife Asana, my daughter Qatari, and my cat Peace, in Tamale, in the Northern Region of Ghana.
ibnhassanlink@yahoo.com
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