A GRAIN IN A HANDFUL GARI

A GRAIN IN A HANDFUL GARI
Here he comes
See his kente
Woven with colourful words
From the loom of poetry
Witty verses are the
Patterns dancing
In his cloth
To the melodious tunes
of his majestic steps
by his Ahenema--A handiwork
Of poetic devices

O Look at his beads
Threaded on strings of haiku---
Master of that field

O he comes with pen
In hand
Pen filled with ink
His ink is a mixture
Of the blood of our fathers
That flood our land
And the tears of
Grieving souls
And The sweat of those
Digging for bread
In the cities' bellies
And The stools of
The cholera stricken
And the air the hungry
yawn out......

Welcome the eyes
of the blind
the voice of the dumb
the pen of the leper

I am his disciple
A grain in a handful gari
who follow
in his steps!

Help me welcome him
Nana Adjei Agyei-Baah
Akwaaba
Nana, Akwaaba
Akwaaba
Speak your disciples
Are listening

©Sarpong Kumankoma