Biography of Quame Boatmann
Maxwell Owusu, writing as Quame Boatmann, was born and bred at Cape Coast, Central Region, Ghana. He attended High school at Aggrey Memorial (A.M.E) Zion, where he offered Visual Arts. He loves visual art works especially canvas paintings and has done many paintings which he gives out as gifts to people who are special to him. Maxwell took interest in writing whiles in year three at High School after his encounter with Joshua Nkoom, who was the 'young poet' at the time.
Joshua Nkoom, who always marvel at Maxwell's analysis of his poems always praise him and gradually Maxwell developed the interest in writing his own poems and novels aside analyzing Joshua's poems.
Maxwell's style of writing was more of European and his works are themed with fantasies more than reality, inspired by reading from great writers like J.R.R Tolkien, Sara Douglas, Garth Nix and few other fantasy writers.
A year after High School, Maxwell got employed at the Central Regional Library, where he worked as a Library Technician. There he developed an interest in Information Technology. Per his passion for teaching little children and a part time job, Maxwell volunteered as a teacher at Nkanfoa Methodist Child Development Center(NMCDC) , Compassion Ghana, where he later became a Child Advocate.
In May 2015, Maxwell and his other philanthropic friends started Make~a~life Foundation, a charity foundation started to help orphans, neglected, the needy..etc in communities, with the aim of making the world a better place for all.
He gained admission to University of Cape Coast to read Psychology and Foundations of Education which he majors in English Language.
He is currently reading Information Science at Kumasi Technical University. Read his poems also at www.covertpoet.wordpress.com
Quame Boatmann Poems
You are the one I’m to be with Throughout my entire life So as to accept me Even after my corruption
The Affluent Panhandler
She called me like a cab Right hand in pocket Left hand says come From road’s other side
‘Can I get a ride? ’ Stood your hail of pride, With the sun burning you up Your feet weary, and your gut dried up
We're Not Immortals
Life isn’t eternal, we’re not immortals Three scores and ten years We’ll leave these temples Not by our will, else we linger
Will The Church Ever Change?
Will the church ever change? Its beginning was like a rose flower Blossomed bright red soft petals With fresh moist emerald sepals
A glance of my yesterday, Aches my soul A reflection of my past, Bows my head in shame
We were offered heaven and hell We should have taken caution For we could have spat on hell But we realized not the option
Traveller On The Road
As I walk on the silent road Weary of this long restless journey A journey along the dry desert Though endless as eternity
Precious Days Of Old
Gone are the days of our forefathers where civilization had not begun a child had no place in the gathering of elders
She walks like one with valour She works like one with power And her voice, like one with harper She smiles like one with more dollar
Cape Coast, My Paradise
Cape Coast, Cape Coast Where I belong A Paradise I dream never to leave As long as the sand calms the wrath of the tides
Who'll Speak For Us?
So long have we been laboring Too tight have we been stretched Sharing the fate of Job As we’re always denied the fruit of our labour
The Red Note
As little as its value Without grace or honour Oblivion to the poor And a door mat to the rich
The memories of my early days Become as green leaves Of the dew morning Whenever I behold
Who'll Speak For Us?
So long have we been laboring
Too tight have we been stretched
Sharing the fate of Job
As we’re always denied the fruit of our labour
Now our faith is tearing apart
For our hope keeps on running from us
Our tattered garments are blowing away
And our pockets, so full of only our hands