Quame Boatmann

Veteran Poet - 1,275 Points (Cape Coast)

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

PoemHunter.com Updates

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

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