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.
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
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.