Poetry December 4, 2014



Written by Patrick M. Yattoh, Jr.

Email: [email protected]

I know you deadly Ebola

Merciless and devastating lethal virus

No cure for your hemorrhagic fever

More than half of the people you greeted died

From Gueckedu in Guinea and Kailahun in Sierra Leone, to Foya in Kissi land in Liberia,

You spread your deadly tentacles like wildfire in dry woods

In our Mano River region

With no fear for any religion

As you continue to unleash havoc on your victims

Caretakers and healthcare commandoes

In boiling suits with silent death;

Even your siblings, malaria, diarrhea

HIV AIDS and others have never treated us like you did

You expose the breakable healthcare systems of

Mama Liberia, Sierra Leone and Guinea

On the global theater

Ebola! You are far worse than we imagined.


Scanty Smiles

By: Lekpele Nyamalon

Ever seen a smile that cuts short with a sigh?

It glows like lightening

Stands upright and flows beautifully like a fountain

And drops in glamour, splashing its body on earth’s treasure

Beneath those smiles is a dark, wicked, omen

Teary, dark eyes, red like vampires

The finesse of the face that sparks with splendor

Holds a mouth filled with venom

Desperate to strike and clutch a prey

Trust those smiles boy?

But, oh boy, keep one eye open

Lest you sleep and yea a strike, stiff like a cobras’ sting

Brings you crushing beneath earth’s untrusted brink

And those smiles stare at you and sigh

Small, foolish boy, who told you thou were great?

You’d rot below my feet and I’d triumph over your face

Feigning my tears from a crocodile’s eyes

Next time, oh yea, you’d never trust a scanty smile


To belong

By: Lekpele Nyamalon

Who am I?

Maybe I should know

Do I have to wear heels like camels to be sophisticated?

Even if I try to crow

I would never be a rooster

Do I have to hang out late at bars?

Smoking weed and drinking scotch

All night long like a big-top guy?

Even if I did, I wouldn’t have that touch

I am me

One of a kind, one in a way

Draped in fame and just me

I can’t be them. I, too, belong to the world, in a way.


Flowers Do Not Die

By: Eric G. Gbanlon

Animals are contingent

Even plants are not permanent

Houses submit to giant storm,

Even ants are roasted by blazing sun

The blue sky closes the eyes of stars.

Before day, the moon grows wings and flies.

Well turns to pit, when water dries.

Every trust is lost, when you tell lies.

When reading stops, knowledge goes.

When love dies, hatred grows

I was caught in adultery, so I lost my wife

But the flower I gave, she said, is still alive.


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