Otis B. Kruah Poems

Dancing to the joy of my father
Drums, sassas, flute and other
Chanting chorus of sweet,
Palm wine verses luring him further,
...

Good morning from my end
The night, I prayed, not to extend
With fathers fighting and mothers mourning
Down the abyss of torment - descend,
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Brightening the sky till the dawn of a new day
And morning dew won't let beauty fade away
It's crescent or full, but bright is the moon
Up this early, the cocks have new words to say
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Like the priests have mastered their sacred rites,
the horses celebrate the swords clanging of the bravest knights,
All are anxious to welcome the words that spring out of this pen
Enjoying the rhythm when Wole Writes
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Along the beautiful shores where the sons met,
On an island that history can never forget
Your beaches kissing the broad Atlantic, O city
The chronicles narrate that your present was preset
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Give the goal and rest,
Or fight with all your zest,
Until the final whistle blows,
An end to this vital quest.
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Pearls and honey may come your way
Pride and comfort, you can let stay
Of all these sweet life pleasures
The lines will include all on Domesday
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Rising from the origin of saving grace,
Her smile illuminates that tender face.
Mother sings lullaby, a song to be steady
Giving her hope to run the race
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Catching sight of the gleaming in the night
Time flashes of stars alluring and bright
Lying under this smashing canopy of love,
Paul Bailey says Glasgow is the site
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We heard the sound of fuss,
That took the land in noise,
Then came the sound of a piano,
To keep the fight from us
...