DELATROPHY

Why we Drape in Black Funeral Clothes

2010-08-12T00:20:00.000-07:00

Why we drape in black funeral clothes
is not that black is the colour of death
neither is black the colour of evil - far be it!

Adios, Dumega Hunnour T.K Bobobee
“Papa, hede nyui, ya wor odwogbaa!”

When a giant shady tree dies birds cry
not for the demise of an ample bosom
their mournful cries are always in blithe

so in our grief we learn new joyful dirges
for when a tree dies its stump grows back
that is why we must stifle our grief with joy
beneath our sombre faces lurk elation
as funerals become a celebration of life-
a life well spent to complete a full circle
to see a war veteran’s wardress adorned
with arrays of great-grandchildren as a legacy

when in funeral processions we drape in black
it is not because it is the colour of death, far be it
the colour black is enigmatic like the magic of life
and so black is required for all other colours
to have depth and variants of hue –
it's a dynamic trait that embodies ritual,
dignity, force, reunion, strength –
it heals all wounds and misunderstanding
and above all, black is zero tolerance, and endless

life is a circle, never to be linear
the present belongs to the living
as the past is for the ancestors
and the future is for the unborn –
waiting for a turn to start another circle

“Papa, hede nyui, ya wor odwogbaa!"
Adios, Dumega Hunnour T.K Bobobee
your befitting burial is a festival of life
that spawn arrays of offspring to live on

the sun sets, here comes the voyager at last
Papa, as you are going to that grand home
greet all the ancestors waiting to be reborn
greet Mama Adzinor, Freda Awusi Akwetey for me
please tell her that, her parting words are evergreen
like a tiny bell with an echoing chime in my heart
“my son, be like a tree planted by the rivers of water”

“Papa, hede nyui, ya wor odwogbaa!"
Adios, Dumega Hunnour T.K Bobobee

By Dela Black Bobobee –
on behalf of your descendants.

Ewe Traditional Drumming and Dancing

2007-09-17T10:19:00.000-07:00

The Ewe tribe of Battor are among the premier indegenous tribe that migrated from their ancestral home of Notsie, and are now found along the lush eastern banks of the River Volta in the North Tongu District. The major clans of Battor include Adina,Ete,Kornorkuhor, Kpele, and Sohe.

Dela Bobobee

2007-09-17T10:15:00.000-07:00

Dela Bobobee a été soutenu dans Aveyime-Battor, dans la région de la Volte du Ghana. Il a été instruit au Ghana et au Nigéria. Il tient un degré de B.A (Hon) en anglais, et des maîtres du degré (MILD) international de droit et de diplomatie, tous les deux de l'université de Lagos. Il est un dramaturge édité, poèt, auteur de court-histoire, et également un acteur qui a eu la plupart de ses travaux littéraires édités sur l'Internet et dans la « NAVETTE », un journal littéraire de campus tandis que toujours à l'université de Lagos. Il a gagné plusieurs prix et récompenses pour ses travaux littéraires. Dela Bobobee est considéré en la plupart des cercles comme un poèt d'écologiste comme la plupart de ses préoccupations thématiques sont sur la dégradation environnementale, et très véhément en invitant les riche nations industrialisées pour ratifier et mettre en application l'entente de Kyoto. Dela Bobobee est également dans la production visuelle professionnelle, diriger, scriptwriting, et l'édition visuelle. Sa production visuelle est la plupart du temps orientée sur la conservation de faune, le documentaire, et très passionné animaux au sujet de la conservation et de la promotion de la diversité culturelle africaine Il joue la guitare, le piano et le sax de teneur. Il voit le multilinguisme comme capitaux très grands, que ce soit des langues africaines ou étrangères. Il est également très enthousiaste en apprenant des langues étrangères telles que des langues françaises, espagnoles et allemandes. Dela Bobobee est également dans la production visuelle professionnelle, diriger, scriptwriting, et l'édition visuelle. Sa production visuelle est la plupart du temps orientée sur la conservation de faune, le documentaire, et très passionné animaux au sujet de la conservation et de la promotion de la diversité culturelle africaine riche. Il travaille actuellement dur pour produire son premier film de dispositif au sujet du syndrome vestal de vierges de « Trokosi » au Ghana.

2007-09-17T10:05:00.000-07:00

Dela Bobobee a été soutenu dans Aveyime-Battor, dans la région de la Volte du Ghana. Il a été instruit au Ghana et au Nigéria. Il tient un degré de B.A (Hon) en anglais, et des maîtres du degré (MILD) international de droit et de diplomatie, tous les deux de l'université de Lagos. Il est un dramaturge édité, poèt, auteur de court-histoire, et également un acteur qui a eu la plupart de ses travaux littéraires édités sur l'Internet et dans la « NAVETTE », un journal littéraire de campus tandis que toujours à l'université de Lagos. Il a gagné plusieurs prix et récompenses pour ses travaux littéraires. Dela Bobobee est considéré en la plupart des cercles comme un poèt d'écologiste comme la plupart de ses préoccupations thématiques sont sur la dégradation environnementale, et très véhément en invitant les nations industrialisées pour ratifier et mettre en application l'entente de Kyoto.Dela Bobobee est également dans la production visuelle professionnelle, diriger, scriptwriting, et l'édition visuelle. Sa production visuelle est la plupart du temps orientée sur la conservation de faune, le documentaire, et très passionné animaux au sujet de la conservation et de la promotion de la diversité culturelle africaine riche. Il joue la guitare, le piano et le sax de teneur. Il voit le multilinguisme comme capitaux très grands, que ce soit des langues africaines ou étrangères. Il est également très enthousiaste en apprenant des langues étrangères telles que des langues françaises, espagnoles et allemandes. Dela Bobobee est également dans la production visuelle professionnelle, diriger, scriptwriting, et l'édition visuelle. Sa production visuelle est la plupart du temps orientée sur la conservation de faune, le documentaire, et très passionné animaux au sujet de la conservation et de la promotion de la diversité culturelle africaine riche. Il travaille actuellement dur pour produire son premier film de dispositif au sujet du syndrome vestal de vierges de « Trokosi » au Ghana.

The Tilted Boulder

2007-07-07T21:16:00.000-07:00

The Tilted Boulder

There is a stationary climatic boulder
tilted by the legendary greed of mankind
to cataclysmic proportions devoid of sanity
but once set in motion will never stop rolling
the planet earth our only God given home
onto the precarious edge of the great chasm
and into an abysmal void of total extinction

man used to Sisyphus continuous rolling
boulder from bottom to the top of the
proverbial hill thinks his existentialist tricks
can save him from this precarious games
he stubbornly plays with his lifeline, nature
and thinks that my voice will finally grow
hoarse and blunt never to thump his eardrums

but I can’t stop crying in the wilderness
because I care, for mankind, and the legacy
of our future generations yet unborn to see
what a custodian we made God to believe
we are when he faithfully and bountifully
gave man dominion over all his creation
and because I know what God’s silence means piety

you can change your greedy ways and repair the
wrong for there is also virtue and goodness imbibed
in you by God to reverse the hand of the tickling clock
of the time bombs you created with your own hands
when you look deep down into your soul to realize
marvel at your infinite gift of insight and creativity
for I know the son of whom we are is omniscient

written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

The Visionary Osagyefo

2007-07-07T21:13:00.000-07:00

relentless forces propelled him to stowaway
his visionary quest to assuage at Harvard
drew him homewards and snatched away
the colonial leadership mantle with hazard
and became the first to be granted freewill
in the African coast laced with much gold
he proposed to merge one great political will
for Africa to become unstoppable and bold
but tearfully and fearfully that pale wizard
a halt a giant spearheaded Monrovia group
Casablanca cried when they fried his gizzard
for their incurable love of steamy pepper soup
and banished him from his own land of freedom
a land he much adored and brought much gain
but mediocrity only succeeded to beget boredom
Osagyfo had sowed seeds of his visionary brain

today his aspirations and foresight is revisited
to lead as kindly light amid encircling gloom
when the chips are down and penury persisted
abetted and prodded by subtle imperialist doom
the Osagyfo still stirs in his mausoleum grave
urging the greedy successors on to get one voice
to become a united front and unstoppable brave
not to relent in their struggle as the only choice
and pleaded God Ghana to open up a well of oil
its seeming budding emancipation is meaningless
unless it yoked with all the will of Africa’s toil
to render our numerous friendly foes powerless
until that fateful day Nkoyeni will slough scales
to ascend the throne of prominent freedom for all
as the wind of change will set African flag on sails
and I see a new virgin catwalk without fear at all

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

Legon Lures Lagos Love

2007-07-07T21:08:00.000-07:00

crystal droplets of deep reflections
sodden the sand of my sad stance
widened into a serene rivulet
that ripples with my teardrops
like a tender insatiate suckling
from the mother’s breast wrenched
my vulnerability poignantly felt I
time, not naira, like a colossus
between Akoka and I bestrode
degrees waiting names to inscribe

doped with sublime ambivalence
solemnly I watch the cryptic swap
as Logon lures Lagos, love
oh! Nature, my witness and contact be
as I sandwich my loyalty and love
between the lagoon and the hill
savour the flavour of the two giants
to blend the two esoteric ivory towers
once an Akokite, always the greatest

Lagoon Front moans, the poet broods
shadows on the third Mainland bridge
of distant cars kissing in the traffic

a new oath solemnly taken
I shall return to nurse this falconer
whose intellectual tits I weaned

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
18/02/95

Alumnus at Unilag

2007-07-07T21:04:00.000-07:00

This same ceremonial gown
he once wore
tasted flavours of the intellect
hungrily sucked
but now a full fledge falcon
busily nursing the falconer
manacled by fragrance of nostalgia
edifice of excellence and inspiration
he is to me forever

a slogan of imaginative dimensions
he is to me forever
out of his lips spills pure distilled intellect
humour his cryptic dancing beads smile
his crackling laughter I can now see
an open secret now is my dogmatic idol

behold! Eruv, the doyen of Arts, the dean
from whose critical intellectual tits I wean

By Dela Bobobee© 18/02/95

Academia

2007-07-07T21:02:00.000-07:00

As I pause, poised on the brink
from this Pherian Spring deep to drink
my shaky knees and weak feet
please hearken to my heartbeat
beseeching to achieve this feat
to cross over frustration’s pit
into much success great and fit

a long, long wait it is, Mother
no one seems to understand either
I can’t take a drink too shallow
inspirations, hunches to follow
please tell them all to mellow
drink shallow I grow more thirsty
Academia is a trick so much testy
on this threshold I stretch my arm
Mother, a long way from home I am

by Dela Bobobee© 18/02/95

The Red Drum

2007-07-07T20:53:00.000-07:00

The Red Drum
The red drum beats
when every other drum stops beating
every soul dance to the rhythm of life
from the pulsating ethos of the red drum

the red drum not only beats
when you listen, the red drum is talking
every stony heart has a sheath for a knife
from a gush on the tempo of the red drum

the red drum by nature is sexy
when your heart flutter and in frenzy
every stolen glance from your heartthrob
from the blushes irrigated by the red drum

the red drum is jealous and vindictive
when retrospect’s stab is aggressive
every soft spot, love and pardon flee
from dirges the red drum goes on spree

the red drum you should know is the heart
when in our short lives destiny plays its part
every promise given not to stray our drumsticks
from where we are identified as God’s handpicks

Written by Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

Cybernetics

2007-07-07T20:50:00.000-07:00

Wading with silently gait slowly but sure
comes the beautiful stranger on the shore
wafting trails of subtle fragrance in passage
dove’s eyes of urgent telegraphic message

tell me, are thou the goddess or her messenger?
riding this new chariot as a driver or passenger?

tell me, what ails thee?
is it the price of thy fee?
where all prejudices flee?
I‘ll be quick with my plea

can’t thou feel my love in thy bones?
or is thy heart curved out of stones?

The Grim Legacy

2007-07-07T20:47:00.001-07:00

Deep echoes of my heart a prayer
raw wounds dripping, bleeding
gradual depletion of the ozone layer
my heart weeping, pleading
deforestation laying waste, bare
thick rain forest dwindling fast
humans, no one seems to care
but forget you can’t your past

nuclear missiles for mass annihilation
mushrooms of death piling, spreading
gradual lost of same premonition
time bombs crawling, loading
not one deadly packed arsenal
threatens the earth a lifeless burnt cinder
men, all dead instinct for survival
awake! Please check now this blunder

the indifference, sordid grime legacy
bequeathed by predecessors of supremacy
maybe, all silhouettes of my mind
lost in mazes so deep I can’t find
but yet to manifest in its due seasons
Oh! Man, have you lost your reasons?
why poison the very air you breathe
and then let greed epithet your death?

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
at 07:07:07 0n 07/07/07

And Her Name Is ...

2007-07-07T20:43:00.001-07:00

Oh! I see a very chaste maiden
risen from the dust of obscurity
to the very height of prominence
and taken her rightful place with glee
amidst love songs and tears of joy

who is this peerless virgin?
defiled yet still remains untainted
pillaged yet still remains bountiful
sucked dry yet flowing with milk
bled to death yet unconquered
made childless yet still fertile
ridiculed but remains unabashed
threatened yet remains unafraid
envied and wooed yet unfiltered
trampled yet still waxing strong
Eurocentric by force but is afrocentric
darkened by society but still shines
ruthlessly made hopeless yet hopeful
mortally wronged yet full of pardon
rejected, scorned yet accommodating
cursed yet stubbornly remains blessed?

her old name is Africa the brave
Africa the new world united giant
Africa the dark but bright continent

and her new name is ….Nkoyeni!
not the United States of Africa
not the United Nations of Africa
Nkoyeni is the true African identity
a true picture of infinity on canvas

there is power in the choice of name
Nkoyeni is Africa’s new African name
youthful and rejuvenated replica
of the raped and pillaged former identity

let it known,
the tent of God is with the lowly and meek
for they posses the key to the halls of infinity

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

Time Traveller

2007-07-07T20:40:00.000-07:00

I am the great time traveller
who oscillate through time at will
in my hands is the propeller
that rotates the ageless wheel

yesterday is my past
today is my present
which is moving fast
without your consent

tomorrow is my future
there is fluidity in diversity
agelessness with nature
thrives in the heart of humanity

there is order in the void you dread
and life in the great beyond you fear
I traverse mazes you all fear to tread
a time traveller’s invincibility is clear

I speak with a new prophetic voice
In my grasp is the key to infinity
In your own hands lies the choice
I have the secrets of sane humanity

your good evil days of revelry is boom
your avarices poison the air you breathe
your ruthlessness will seal your doom
your remorselessness speed your death

forsake your evil ways and seek
what is hidden from the wise
trample not the lowly and meek
cleanse greed from moral vice

Written by
Dela Bobobee© 07/07/07

Africa Must Unite

2007-07-07T20:38:00.000-07:00

Oh Africa!
When your vision is in tandem
with your new political will to seek
clear prehistoric fountains of hope
shall flow with passion to obliterate
the ills of greed, pillage, inhumanity
of years of rape and inhuman slavery
and focus with clarity into the future

Your bangs of slavery begot colonialism
which invited neocolonialism to dinner
where greed fragmented your lands
your hopes and dreams in blatant disregard
to your creed, socio-cultural affinities
your ethos and eroded your values
with strange tongues and feuds

Oh! Africa!
When you resist their beckoning evil urges
and insatiate hunger for subtle greed
they sowed the seed of insane hatred
termed you land of hunger, poverty, disease
but we see through their furtive glances
of impatience for more exploitative trysts
for we know better than that what they call you

Oh Africa!
Now is the time to unite as one
there is no other ideal time to start
a journey of a thousand miles
starts with that uncertain false steps
of a toddler fraught with falls and cries
the strength of the chain is its weakest link
United we stand passionate or die trying

And I see a new Africa
and a new people of conscience
for the vent of a new wind of change
is now tilted within reach of the meek
and the downtrodden imprisoned
by walls of societal false sense of value
to ascend the true throne of prominence
for God does not work with weaklings!

Oh Africa! you show plenty of signs
that you are on the right track and
beginning to overcome many of your problems
your tinny breast once beleaguered by poverty and war
is now clean, safe and enjoying economic growth
more than twice as fast as the U.S. or Europe
Oh Africa! Feel the signs of a turnaround
and plenty of reason for optimism and hope

Now is the time
To dig the mine!

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

Woman and Sword

2007-07-07T20:36:00.001-07:00

An olive branch she thrusts
through my heart pierced
but a new mistress I’ve found
in the sword of destiny
though the grave yawns
now or never all vanity

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

The Poisoned Succour

2007-07-07T20:33:00.000-07:00

God created natural wells for all Africans
their insatiate thirst and hunger to assuage
but African leaders created poison to contaminate
the very wells that is meant to be their lifelines

man created politics that is very dirty in Africa
and poisoned the rich wells that is their succour
and the wells become the bane of the albatross
Oh! African, why kill your adornment on molehills
how long continue to suffer in the midst of plenty?

the offspring of the poison succour are huge
poverty, corruption, conflict, misappropriation
the offshoots of the offspring are many
Angola, Gabon, Nigeria, and Guinea and….

the new entrant is the coast that was full of gold
and now thinks can become the new African tiger
but remember, a tiger must not shout its tigertude
and pop not yet champagne bottles in your Osu castle
lest you tow the same dirty line of your predecessors
and turn your new found blessing into an ugly curse

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07 – 07 – 07

Life

2007-07-07T20:29:00.000-07:00

Life is a sweet melody
only where love is the witty lyrics
that make it a beautiful song

Life is a stream that finds its own course
only where its tracks are charted by vicissitudes
that do not cartwheel with utopian ideals

conquest is just a sword
only where trials are the sheath
that hide its nakedness

man is a smart acrobatic swinging monkey
only where woman is the cluster of supportive trees
that keep him from falling off the vacuums

a poet is a good wordsmith with prophetic vision
only where verses are not coerced from spontaneity
that aggrandize awards and laurels for altruism

the much touted science is a genius
only where the noble arts are the only light
that brighten its grim path from self cataclysm

positivism soars high in the region of the normative
only when realism is the ideal tandem
that tilts its imbalances through tact of diplomacy

good shall always triumph over evil
only where the forces of darkness are negatives
that equate the positive dual opposing fields of electricity

world supremacy is just muscle flexing
only where unipolarity is the biomass
that recycles its cowardice of a bully

religion can nurture true repentance
only where virtue is not made out of necessity
that can make nobility acquired and not inherent

immortality can successfully thrive
only where infinity is the captured vestige
that accentuates its invincibility

life is a continuous process
only where Sisyphus' drudge is the dint
that fuels its underlying present tense

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

07/07/07

2007-07-07T20:18:00.000-07:00

This morning a little child asked me
"What is today's date, Sir?"
"the seventh day of July, 2007" I replied
and he said," Thank you, Daddy"

and he disappeared into oblivion
I looked for him but could not find him
the realization came as a great shock

and I broke down in tears on my knees
Oh my gracious, how can I overlook this
Today's date is a special one in our lives
this generation has witnessed what can never be

we cross over a millennium into another millennium
Never again can we see another subtle 07/07/07
What now reverberates in my mortal mind is
the way he said it, "Thank you, daddy"

and a sad remorse flushed my throbbing heart
Oh my goodness, I did not thank my creator
when I woke up this morning hale and hearty

Oh Lord, permit me now to say a big thank you
and to all good and bad people I have met in life
for they are the harmony that made my lyrics a song
for in generations our paths may never cross again

when my digital clock read 07:07:07 and date 07/07/07
and I felt this special event will never happen again
at least not in our present lifetime I decided to share
this moment with future generations when I ‘m long gone

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

Freewill

2007-07-07T19:55:00.000-07:00

God’s love created mortal man at sea
and gave him only a fine dragnet
but he swam ashore without fins
God became angry and in his rage
carried him to the topmost mountain
again man descended without wings

man now climbs molehills alone
and takes Icarus plunges home
but sustains mortal wounds
in the neck and in the heart
as the sun slowly melts his wings
made of seashells and lion hackles

Man, I salute your crafty freewill
but you must also be careful of height
and dizzy flights near abysmal pits
lest you get lost in the labyrinths
or sucked through the hole you dug
in the ozone layer to shield the sun

Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

End Time Stocktating

2007-07-07T19:53:00.000-07:00

The moon in her prehistoric splendors
splashed her silvery sheen shadows
to fall heavily on the lonely brooding poet
lost in deep disturbing thoughts of life

On the threshold of a new millennium
the vortex in his mind takes a new stock
folks with faint hearts asked
if life on earth is truly going to end
what is man’s highest peak?
will there ever be any?
man’s pinnacle is abysmal
and his knowledge preposterous

Tell me, Oh! Thou gentle moon
thou silent watching eye of God
when and where has mortal man
found or rather lose his reasons?
what has man’s freewill wreaked?
the moon smiled calmly replied
“naughty child, I grant thee
a rare charisma to ask God
but only one question, yes only one”

sublime ambivalence, the poet
in a loud voice whined
“tell me, O God our help
in ages past and hope for years
to come! Hast thou by any means
regretted ever creating man?”

behold a heavy thunderous silence…
from God a large scroll
the answer the poet to read

bewildered the poet gazed,
groped, pored but saw nothing
has his sight gone blunt
or rather is the scroll blank?
or is the answer complete
in its infinite void which is
what the mysterious x represents
in the simultaneous equation
that which relates to life
and makes life complete?

on this dark lonely brink
I stood faint and bewildered
Oh! Moon, I sought and
drank deep your calm face
and found the answer
which lit my dark path
through the hazy vertigo
of life’s many labyrinths

the truth is that man moves
at such fantastic speed that
he sees everything as one
and sees nothing at all

but I know now the answer
by becoming one and part of you
and His mercies endureth forever!

What Women want in men

2007-07-07T19:52:00.001-07:00

Some women want their spouses
to be real hardcore and a bully
some to be soft and fair bosses
others compassionate and silly
while others want them flawless
just to be loyal, caring and cool
others prefer them to be ruthless
heartless hunk, brute and a fool

Some women don’t like to be pampered
but get their orgasm by being hammered
some prefer buttocks spanked till it bleeds
another chained, dragged until she pleads
some women want lives free of man’s control
some do prefer enslavement to routine patrol
don’t jump to hasty conclusions about women
some proffer kind husbands joy and good omen

treat women with respect, and loving tenderness
they are the harmony to turn man’s lyrics to songs
sow love, compassion, attention and faithfulness
to reap all the virtues at where your heart belongs
let the beauty in her ugliness intoxicate your mind
and her inadequacies humour and fuel your passion
let her folly and weaknesses make you to be kind
for she overlooks all your failings in the same fashion

written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

The New Princess

2007-07-07T19:49:00.000-07:00

Princess, your prince is here waiting
to sweep you off your feet
coincidence may be our funny meeting
or tricks cupid played on us
But I know for sure I am here to stay
and worship at your feet
so that I may not be foolishly led astray
heaven will smile down on us

come with me now, my peerless Princess
to my exquisite paradise garden
to a cool place deeper in the inner recess
where no juicy fruit is forbidden
nothing can stop our journey as we try
to the place flowing with milk
and the sun kiss our heavy hearts dry
to turn our damp rags to silk

when you finally wake up in the morning
to greet the exotic smiling sun
devotedly by your side I will sleep snoring
wink to say I still crave for fun

and when I flutter my eyes to smell you
as the blithe little larks sing joyfully high above
we’ll do lovely things you’re told not to do
kneeling at your feet to declare my undying love

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
07/07/07

Gazelle

2007-07-07T19:47:00.000-07:00

she is indeed as beautiful as the gazelle
her great smile is an invigorating breeze
you shake your and wonder what a damsel
wondering too as looking more I freeze

her smile enough to water my dry soul
her cheerful face more thirst to assuage
her hazel eyes a spark to fire my cold
her sweet fragrance trails her passage

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
Friday, February 25, 2005 09 21 PM

Awaiting bayes

2007-07-07T19:46:00.000-07:00

Oh! What is in the offing for me?
which leaves gnawing anxiety for me?
impatience boils in my breast
without any sign of a little rest
for all the sleepless nights endured
nothing but success to be assured
for all the oil that burnt with the night
to humbly prove many a wrong right.

Oh! The die is already cast
only in prayers to be steadfast
Oh! On this fearful alter of JAMB
I calmly lay like a helpless LAMB
and just like her old twin sister WAEC
many a student’s hope they but WRECK
my failure, my success on these lands
Oh! God, I commit into your able hands.

Written by
Dela Bobobee©
August 2001

Ode to Friendsip

2007-07-07T19:45:00.000-07:00

This is a special ode to friendship
whispers of urgent telegraphic message
running through the membership
dormant friends given the delete passage
lack the ethos of apt consistency
a few real friends are always contributing
their smiles interest the tendency
not shaky, not silent but always inviting

why do you see my COF and whistle
“Boy! Nice pretty chicks you got smiling there
his only chick slept and on a trestle
I smiled at him, “these are real cool friends here
I trim, water them, always nurture
I must only plant a few flowers I well care for
so that their fresh smells give pleasure
he wept “yours smell sweet, mine like camphor

stop crying Boy! Go back to your garden
trim your flowers, reduce their size take just a few
nurture them well your heart must gladden
to see them flourish well and smell sweet in the dew
the lovely flowers in my COF you do envy
I always pray for, care for, feel for, water with love
tender devotion makes the task less heavy
the gentle breeze cools, so is the smiling sun above

written by
Dela Bobobee©
Sunday, February 27, 2005 06 36 PM

Awaiting Bayes

2007-06-12T19:51:00.000-07:00

Written by

Dela Bobobee(C)

Amuga

2007-06-12T19:43:00.000-07:00

The nebulous whirlwind in the horizon
charted by the vertigo of technology
twirled and dazed my forefathers of old
to dance to strange whispering tunes
lost in the heightened tempo scuffles
Amuga became confused, convulsed and chased
my ancestors backwards to odd resettlements
to take stock, nurse imaginary and real wounds.

Aftermath triumphs over Akosombo and Kpong
unearthed the near stagnation of weakened Amuga
writhing in manacles of mud, slime and hyacinth
manure by the puke of looms of Akotex and Juantex
daring insatiate young swimmers and divers
harbingers of the dreaded cystitis blood in urine
my riverine people are hydrophobias overnight
the exodus of Tongu gold, afani-picking vocation.

Upstream at the Afram Plains and beyond
thick rain forests become man-made lakes
hunters now hunt in canoes on islands
their usual game helplessly marooned
kindle firewood is now fetched on water
half submerged stumps boats to capsize
many souls to swallow to swell the tears
savannah vultures now feed fat on water.

The quiet storm heaves a sigh of change
Battor and her sisters in North Tongu
now scratch their fingers on walls as
Dzidegbe flares the moonlight flees
the smooth coal tar ate the coarse gravels
Amuga, the world’s largest man-made lake
is now tamed and termed domesticated
but let us take stock of our good
that was replaced with their best.

Is it there all really is? Amuga whispers to me
Son do not flinch nor wince if Ogonied on the alter
such were the fate of your forerunners slain
now martyrs in the ecological tussles for nature
death embraced for every life to thrive on earth healthy.

Written by

Dela Bobobee(C)

The fragrance of nostalgia

2007-06-12T19:34:00.000-07:00

Once upon a time at a starry sheen moonlight
heart rending serenade passionately responded I
as luring whiff of unmistakable fragrance of nostalgia
plummeted me through childhood hazy maze
and with crystal longing stares of forgotten voices
stoked the smoldering embers of sleeping fires
and once again retrospect’s court summoned me
to drink the bittersweet verdict of ambivalence.

Paths not taken, smiles not returned
Seeds half sowed in stunted growth
initiate disrupted oyster deep diving swims
scintillating fishing expedition thrills gnawed
berry picking sprees, jungle-hunting packs
truancy-laden schools barefooted trodden.

Puberty slapped and hurtled me
headlong into the preposterous travail
pits of the hazy mazes of adolescence
naive serenading virgins ventured
behind flowering shrubs wittingly lured
sent away limping as initiating tasted
naivety fled leaving a gnawing quest
unwitting scapegoats of juvenile delinquency
Oh! But how many childhood sweethearts
ripe fruits untainted, not plucked!
dreams unfulfilled, snares not dodged
eggs in nest not hatched and songs unsung
what remains is only the fragrance of nostalgia
Charting the path of future hunches without regrets.

The path taken

2007-06-12T19:10:00.000-07:00

Two tiny rivulets
paved a twin path
on the tuft of mirage
only indecision begets the difference
and the difference is ambivalent

Today may offer me dualities
the sole chance of a rare charisma
those childhood steps to retrace
but tempt not my lofty dreams

yesterday’s hunches are
today’s serendipity savored
by intellectual stimulation

yesterday is today
and today is tomorrow charted
by revolution which is only permanent

tomorrow is the future
and the future is forever propelled
by vestiges of unseen forces

forever is infinity
and infinity is captured
by becoming one with nature

A path to chart I have
the flock to pasture
dead conscience to revive
the stony hearts of mankind

to sail on
the turbulent waves of serendipity
until the berth
at the serene mooring of humanity
where the sound of silence
is painted with the bright colour of love.

The Muses

2007-06-12T19:07:00.000-07:00

Oh! Great sages of blema
here I come once again
my voice has gone blunt
and in need of whetting
I am going to the forge
to saddle my voice again
at the foot of the brook
where orchids hung from
the nooks of prehistoric oaks
to defy baobab of the savannah.

There is no propitiation here
but the invocation of the sages
here, your salt, honey, palm oil
cola nuts and cowries
I have not forgotten
to bring packages of tasseled lion hackles
I have once wrestled my gourd
from the whirlwind alone
and sustained a mortal scars
as a solitary stipple of prowess.

I call on Tutu, I call Avakpe
Ayidzolu and Agbadzo
neither in distress nor for a war dance
but to guide me to the waterfall
at the sprawling foot of the rainbow
and help me catch the spray
from the eaves early at dawn.

I am the great Hunnour
who does not initiate in the sacred Yeve
for when the head has gone awry
in the omega mood of astral trip
no priests can restore
but only by the wise gods of blema.

That is why I set forth early
at dawn with the dews to wait
at the forge where only gods
and goddesses eat orchids for breakfast
and belch rose petals to soothe
the aching hollow heart of mankind.

Written by

Dela Bobobee(c)

Brain gain

2007-06-12T18:53:00.001-07:00

There is a certain new tempo of rhythm
when the old flare of the nomadic is dim
rustling through the thick undergrowths
gnawing at the hearts of African youths
wading through the oceans and high seas
so solemn beyond what the mortal eyes sees
on every valleys, molehills, and mountains
flowing raw from the prehistoric fountains
Nkoyeni’s cryptic urgent clarion home call
gaining momentum without a sigh of a lull.

Rushing homewards is the youth with gains
albeit the hurdles, untold gory joys of pains
multiplying what Africa lost in the bargains.

When the old lofty barns we now overflow
heightens our paces home will never slow
when the sated pastures no longer greener
evaporated is our old naivety of a learner
then comes the seeping away of the brains
which has finally suffocated the old drains.

There is also another great trek of a new flock
whose genes are not part of Nkoyeni’s old fold
these new creeds now speckle the youths’ pluck
in old sojourns as new trophies returning bold
the other new races now migrate on their own
their returning instincts to Africa never disown

where nuclei human first sprouted life abroad
their climate the foolhardy greed had polluted
their panting thirst for cleaner air very broad
the power of forgiveness revenge now uprooted
legendary African spirit to accommodate given
the pillage, rape, indignity, forgotten, forgiven.

And I see a new Africa and a new conscience
ascending from the pit of mediocrity to the zenith
sparkling with magnanimity and true patience
bold sages again to look calm with pride beneath

where the savannahs, rainforests swallow the drought
for the pride lands the rains many gains had brought.

Written by
Dela Bobobee(c)

2007-02-26T21:58:00.000-08:00

The Brainyard

The moon shone on the silent graveyard
Sniffing dust of dieing footsteps of mourners
Subtle echoing dirges rekindle old tassels
Forgotten sleeping fires leaped from sages past.

The cool evening breeze blew over the earth
The weary living seek repose from the day’s toil
Solemnly I strolled this very hour the ranks
Where forerunners lay in perpetual sleep
Their cradles neatly lay in rows of reminiscence.

The cool rain has watered and sodden the ground
Yet they stubbornly refuse to germinate
The cock had crowed yet they remain asleep
The cool gentle breeze to pacify them they ignore.
Why are the living shunned by the dead?
Perhaps the dead are angry at our mournful pity
Or maybe they are full of many regrets in retrospect
Of what should have been done that was left undone
Behold the graveyard has become the brain yard of ideas
Replete with so many lofty dreams that lay untainted
Brilliant masterpieces wasted on the alter of indecision
Complacency has murdered ingenuity in cold blood
Beloved, hearken to the hoarse voice of wisdom
The green leaves take a cue when the dry leaves fall.
The earth is starved of sane ideas because they lay hidden
Buried in the graveyards of procrastination.

Weep not when I die, and place no RIP
I do not seek any “Revel In Procrastination.”
So against all odds I set forth limping and crawling early at dawn.
To let it be brief but powerful, altruistic and memorable.
So help me God.

By
Dela Bobobee©
21/10/2006