(From the series Nameless #8)

She called him Angel
because maybe;
He, was Heaven-sent
or maybe because
in her reality,
Angels do not exist.

Good things passed quikly
before her eyes in a blur;
The bad memories always
found a way of lingering
longer than necessary,
So they could resurface
and haunt her dreams.

She’s been caught between
the Devil and the deep blue sea;
so she sees this vision of Paradise
But she thinks it is too beautiful
to be Real.

Her eyes are a reflection
of all the evil she prayed;
to be delivered from,
She wears this expression of distant
coldness in their depths as a warning
to the carriers of temptation
Waiting, to venture into her path.

It’s fear keeping her from
letting go and letting in.

And he,

He sits,
Locked away,
in the privacy of his million thoughts
waiting, hoping,
this time,
Against all odds,
His dreams will see the light
of day.

Suicide Notes

There are days when all I feel
Is to get out of my body
And stand outside of me in silent
of this tragically beautiful, broken being that is myself

And yet,
Like a stay of execution,
The weight of hope weighs down on my soul
and stays my hand
Hope steers my head clear off thoughts
On how peaceful eternal silence would be

My free spirit strains at the chains this world binds her up with
I feel my free spirit choke on a pain
much more intense than the agonies borne by a woman in labour

My skin,
Is another oppressor in this playbook
She holds me by the scruff of the neck
And pulls me back into helplessness
I look around into the faces of many
that I, time and again, stood behind

They watch me from the corners of eyes
Mock pitying but condemning my soul
into eternal damnation
I send a strongly veiled:

‘Hello, how are you?’

in hopes someone would read between the lines
But no,
Nobody really cares

I turn to the last strains of happiness
Floating around in my beserk mind
but they are worth nothing but straw in this swiftly churning current
that sucks and carries without
Everything that stood once proud, beautiful, unbroken and full of life

But then I ask my mind to hold still
Just for a moment
Tell my body to fight back
For I am a mountain
Strong and immovable
And when tomorrow comes
Here I will stand
Whole and unbroken again.


We’ve gone past high school crushes
And sweet dreams that became scary nightmares
We’ve witnessed love bloom and get blighted
We’ve opened up and folded in on our feelings
With the malleability of play dough

We let ourselves get played cos all we felt
Was an indescribable feeling of guiltless satisfaction
That only left us played, fools in a tragic comedy
The jokes so dry, and the pain
All ours, alone to bear

We’ve reached for the stars
In the heights of drunken love
And fallen off pedestals with breakneck speed
We’ve lost count of just how many times
we tried to win and yet lost out
Seven score and seven times
We’ve sat in solemn soul-search
Wondering how far from wrong right could have been



when the tears don’t flow
We search for words to fill the space

Left in the void of teary ducts


when the words don’t come

We wish the pain would go away

And that our hearts will bleed no more

There is a profound mutuality

Of sorrow and grief from deep inside

Given voice to, only by long drawn out sighs

When God seems far away

And the loss, indeed, so real

Sometimes when our questions seem without end

And the answers do not ease the mind

When the world looks all so gloom

All we can, is just hope and pray
Sometimes when bravery becomes weak

And resolve threatens to break

There is this anger that can be felt 

At the insolence of unjustified fate
Sometimes when God seems far away

And yet around us, pain is felt

There we see Him in spills of ink

He is the poem I write for you

To ease this pain despite your tears

And let you know the sun will shine
Sometimes when God seems far away

His nearness comes in a breeze of air

Sometimes we do not hear the songs

But the heart knows: It is well!


Dear Love,…

Dear Love,
     Here’s a letter I will read to you when I’m done telling that super story about you. You may not understand but I’ll get you a translator if needs be. This is more of a love letter than a poem to express how much I adore you.

     You’re that indefinably strong woman from who I draw my own strength. You’ve always been that one person that’s able to change my tears into smiles. You’ve been my sunshine in the bleakest moments. You’ve taught me values with silent action and with you, I have learnt how to believe- in pursuing my dreams. 

    Sweetheart, I just want you to know that words cannot explain how much I appreciate the way you held me down and how you let me fly when the time was due. There’s no guarantee you’ll live till world’s end but in my heart- yes, you will. 

   I’ll raise everlasting monuments out of the love, care and dedication you have always given me. I go to sleep each night dreaming up new ways of showing you off to the world because red carpets will not be enough. You’ll always be my first love, my sweet sixteen, as fresh as newly opened flowers in spring.

    Just take it all slowly because there’s a whole lot you and I will seek together. Don’t be in a hurry, love.

    I know sometimes your tears fall but please dont let them fall anymore or else my heart’ll smash into a thousand pieces. I love you like the starlight in a clear night sky, much more than the setting sun painting crimson clouds. Sweetheart, I’ll never ever leave you alone so promise to never leave me too. 

      Your absence is like a rainy day without sunshine- cold and miserable. 

    I love you beyond the history of civilisation, beyond cultures and races. My love is deeper than the oceans, expansive than the galaxies without height. Right through into eternity, you remain my one and only, my number one fan.
Your Son,


Telephone Conversation


♥Telephone Conversation♥

This is a one-sided phone conversation but at the tone,
Please leave a reply;

Hi Daddy,
This is your son’s voice sounding mechanical over your fax machine
I know without missing a beat
That you have to be at work
but is thirty minutes too much to ask for?

I have grown up learning to abide by principles
Especially one from scripture that says:
Obey thine Ma and Pa
Because I want to have grand-children before I lay down to sleep
I sometimes wonder what goes on
On your side of our existence
Do you feel the elements, the way I do?
You say I love you son but my brain processes it,
With a twist!

The last time we met,
Did you realise I am an attestation of your spitting image?
So if you ever want a decoy, I’m your double
Please just dont spit so many promises to swell my head
Because I can’t afford to lose it
I wonder if you would have wanted to share any moment with me

Will there ever be a chance to see you behind my steering wheel?
I want to come of age with your counsel burned into my footprints
To keep me on the right path so I shall not tresspass
I want to know your mistakes and never repeat them
I want to draw strength from your worthy examples
I want to wake to the cock-crow with you under one roof

I want to ask you questions
With deep rooted answers
Who are you and where are you from?
What do you want out of this life?
How did I get to be here?
By accident or according to plan?
Why did we never play ball together?
Have you been so busy all your life?

I have a dream but I’m afraid they may be right
Those people that say you dont care about my dreams
But you haunt my dreams, a silent vision
So I spend sleepless nights reviewing things we could do between us
And when morning comes, I just hope nobody notices the strained look in my eyes
I anticipate hearing you talk about memories
Of boyhood days and growing up
And of wooing or falling in love

I cannot remember clearly the images of your going away
But the truth remains, that beneath the grudgingly murmured ‘How are you?’
There lies a deeply rooted  ‘I miss you’

I would give anything to be telepathic
Just so I could read your mind

I would love to hear you talk of dreams you had
On your way to your mother’s farm
Did you like to blank out in a corner like I do sometimes?

I see grey haired Sirs on an evening walk with sons
And all I think is,
This could be me at thirty and you on a pension

I miss the birthday post cards with cartoon characters
And that familiar scrawl,
Your name
The R with the loop that always caught my attention

I take a trip down memory lane once in a blue moon
To see my six year old self in the sofa with you
Talking about future careers I wanted to try out

But when you left,
I stopped day dreaming
Rescheduling so I could dream at night
And bring it to fruition in day light

I want to know about family traditions you would want me to keep
About those taboos you would advise me not to break

What of the fears?
Your worst nightmare?

Time runs out for those who wish when they grow old,
To sit in the warmth of family circles

I want to be by your bedside when you’re ready to go
Not to read you bedtime stories
But to hear you tell me life stories

Before then,
I want to believe there will be time
To share a few bottles of beer
While we catch up on the lost years between us

There is so much more left unsaid
But you and I know,
There is no luxury of time

I wait to hear your voice over the line as soon as possible
Please call back,
At the click of the line.

[Coby Daniels || Three Page Poems]🙃

A Different Sunset.


This is a feeling akin only to sacrilege
Or was it an issue of privilege?
No matter how many times I asked
There never seemed an appropriate response
And over the years, I’ve lived with the unanswered whys and why nots?
I would have loved to say Dear father
But it reminds of the expenses incurred in your absence

I try to be a mind-reader breaking into the cryptex of your consciousness
But unfortunately telepathy does not apply to you
We seem to drift apart from a common consensus
I have gone past the breaking point so now there’s no pain only a slight depression in my soul
Indifference, I realised it is a trademark impression

I can no longer wax nostalgic over yesterday’s bloom because you keep blocking my views
You’re a stranger and yet must you be told?
May I ask, have you ever been cold?
Not on the outside but on the in?
I’ve watched time and again as you sacrificed my belief in your guiding principles
Choosing to offer me broken promises that continually stab at my self esteem

I tried to create something that was non-existent
I learnt that habit is an unchanging constant
And only a miracle completes the puzzle
Making justifications have proved a tiring game
And defending you has always ended the same
It left me feeling quite lost and foolish

The idea of nowhere to run anchors me to yesterday
So I live life with a fear of the unknown
I’m an undecided risk taker because of the shadow you cast
And I cant understand why I’m shackled to your ineptitude
I want to break free and run but my feet wont budge
I dont want to and yet I feel pity
For tomorrow, old age and bitter realizations
I get grim reflections of life and death
Every day, the void widens between you and I

I was birthed into a golden sunrise
I have grown, a new man, into a different sunset.


Out Spoken.


I squirm every time I am under your gaze because
Your eyes bore straight into my soul
And there is no cover for my heart’s nudity
Every single truth is laid bare
I wilt under your spell like sun-scorched desert plants

The ultimate height of what I feel for you
Is just to know you are happy
And yet I never cease to be awestruck when you walk past
It’s like wanting a seat in an already sold out event
I’ved dulled my senses but you remain an acute awareness

I know there’s no point asking if I came on the line too late
But truth is I forgot how to shut up
And so every thing I say is a spill over of what goes on in my mind

I’ve always been sure of my self but not any more
Now I hardly know which foot to thrust forward first

Even in high temperature I feel chills
You might not know it, but you are the reason I hug my self
To keep the tremblings in check

I get sweaty palms and twitchy toes
There’s a sudden feeling of discomfort
And I just want to run into the past
To rewind time’s hands so I could change track
If for nothing at all, meeting you put me out of order

I cant feel my rib any more
And yet there’s no magic in the air
I see no cascades of silky hair
No discerning eyes drawing me out
I wish to not and yet I hope every day
To see you when I walk down the road.



One from the ancient oracle

Abeiku Arhin Tsiwah



Out of green lappah i crawl
Uphill I waddle my buttocks
Defeating my cripple tales
Grandpa’s leather in thirty-two
But, Ramota’s kept frown is caught

Yet, I shall breast these hills
Clutching to my heart every steps
A clink I will not buy for your face
So weep not for bean-cake
Not even palm-oil droplet shall I propitiate
Like you, on this boulder i suck
The nipples of the breast
So, let your ferocity melt in your loins
For I am a market of mysteries

For I am a market of anvils
You all must know
Is an anthem beyond myths
My name in upper case lick class bottom
Yet, in timbre and calibre i lay my words
I am a market of mysteries
I sell untaught sewn words
So, melt the tang of your exasperation hill
Put barbiturate on the gargoyle of your corrosive…

View original post 67 more words

Couriers of Doom


Coat of Arms- Ghana

Many hailed him, I sat in numbed silence
Watching, and disbelieving, while self-acclaimed saviours of the people
Trod on the necks of the masses

In an era of modern civilisation, we are muted
The fight within quelled by mental manipulation
The backwardness, of our uncivilised ancestry, taught us better lessons of life
And gave us values beyond price and pride

Yet now,
we are bullied into rebellious silence
As we learn the hard way
How man always has a mastermind agenda
We’ve lost trust in shaky social structures

All around we see manifestations of incompetence
That word which is now strictly taboo
So instead we await the coming of the competents while praying for bread and sustenance

Malfunctioning calculators of the state treasury
Plunges us deeper into the throes of a dying economy
We can no longer tell the difference between mismanagement and gross incomptence

So said one old ram to a flock of lambs:
Grey hair, is no guarantee for progressive thinking
Practically, we are reduced to duping Ama to pay Akosua
Discotheques for lighting systems with little drops that take forever to fill a mighty bucket

Now it’s more than skin deep
The young
The old
The past and present

Now it’s gone beyond our choices
The tears
We cry
We all feel the hardship
As we sit on doorsteps awaiting messages
from our couriers of doom.

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