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Photography & Spoken Word

POETIC LICENCE: My Grandfather’s Chair – Asford Psalms

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Titled The Psalmist Creed, emerging poet Asford Psalms’ weekly poetry column consists selected poems from his yet-to-be-released debut collection.

Here is My Grandfather’s Chair:

My grandfathers’ chair was too large for the hall.

So it stood many years at the porch.

It was heavier by thrice than the old man himself.

And it stands few yards from the door.

 

My grandfathers’ chair was too large for the hall.

So it stood many years at the porch.

He got it in his prime.

At the age of twenty four.

And I bet he was happy and proud.

 

It’s never been this way.

At the place it stands today.

It never was there.

Outside, facing the bumpy scare.

It was always inside here- by the cradle my papa slept in as a tod’.

 

I still feel the warmth from the stories that he read.

And the tonne of rhymes he said.

 

It’s never been this way.

Outside, facing the bumpy air.

It was always inside here- directly facing his famous clock.

But when the clock stopped short- never to go again- it was kept in its place like a won trophy in a case.

 

It was worth my grandpa’s joy as the news of his child was borne.

As it was always his prayer to be a king of a pride.

So he paused and shot himself into the chair with vein.

As before when his own pops had died.

 

My grandfathers’ chair was too large for the hall.

So it was moved out by my mom, dad et al.

 

Many years without hammering.

Squeak-quack, squeak-quack.

He grew into slumbering.

Squeak-quack, squeak-quack.

And it paused and stopped- didn’t move an inch- when the old man’s breath was gone.

 

Many years since dad has been; away from home, very far from home.

My paa kept on wondering.

Think, thought, think, thought.

But it stopped short- before my dad could ring- the doorbell at night.

 

So he heard the news.

My mom broke the snooze.

Stiff-and-tough, stiff-and-tough.

He paused and shot himself into the chair.

Swift-and-rough, swift-and-rough.

He was hammered-in my grandpas’ chair.

Squeak-quack, squeak-quack.

In my paas’ loved and glamorous seat.

Squeak-quack, squeak-quack.

His tears dropped down his cheecks.

Drip-drop, drip-drop.

Then he stopped and sobbed- never to cry again.

But it failed when my mom hugged tight.

 

Many days since my grandpa’s blink.

It really hurt and dad’s tears were first.

The chair was put out to sing.

Squeak-quack, squeak-quack.

So as I passed; I paused and thought, will it be whole again since the old man has died?

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Photography & Spoken Word

#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Element – Asford Psalms

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There are things that holds the world together.

Some may be visible to our eyes.

Others, not so well or even impossible.

But there is one.

One particular element, we may think is not visible; may be not enough.

But to some, they see it in a colorful spectrum.

And an array of notes with a blend of hearts: spoken through the mouth or corridors of our minds.

We might need not to sing but in meditation, it is felt.

Felt in the innermost cores of our souls.

This is an element that can never be forgotten.

For better or for worst.

Whether we are conscious or we are not.

For it flows in a colorful rainbow affecting the length and breadth of the world.

From soul to soul.

From our heads to our soles, we feel it touching every nerve in our bodies’ and bones.

 

It is an element that teaches us who we are, where we are, how we got here; it shows us the future in tunes and how we can hold on.

 

It is that it is.

It is that which sees no boundaries.

Speaks all dialects.

Knows no age.

Sings many genres.

 

It is the only element that can speak to our emotions at a particular minute.

It is that which touches our hearts, even when we cannot see it.

 

It is: that which can speak a particular language we do not know.

But we definitely, will tag along.

It can make us strong.

Even if we are broken beyond repair.

It is that which can change us from good to wrong.

Or from being bad into a good bond.

It is; that which can bring together or loose forever a tight bond.

 

It is that which sings to all our senses.

 

And there is only one element that has so many defenses.

 

And that is MUSIC.

 

Music is the element that feeds our souls.

Holds us in any weather; hot or in cold.

Music is the only element that transcends every barrier.

Music speaks all languages.

Moreover, it fills our hearts and revives our souls.

It can hold us emotionally, physically and psychologically; if it is seen through spirituality or seen through the world.

 

Music teaches us when to mellow or be bold.

It uplifts us when we are broken and need to be bold.

 

Music can speak to the unknown.

Or speak to us about the unknown.

Through music, we can hear from the forgotten or the lost.

 

Music can tell our story.

How we feel at a point in time.

It is that which tells our emotions whilst we cry or we laugh.

Whether it is day or it is night.

Whether rain or shine.

It let us remember when we were happy or shared a particular glory.

 

Music knows no race.

It is a tool that can bend for evil or for good.

It is that which can change our mood.

See through our pain.

And whatever the genre, we will sing in the clear or in the rain.

 

Music can speak the tongue of consciousness; even in-out of our consciousness.

 

Music takes over when talks and actions fail.

It rolls over when emotion derails.

 

Music has set sail and will never get lost in our oceans of bale.

It will never fall apart even when the whole world does.

 

Music is personal.

But when we sing it along with other elements; whether with hearts or instruments.

And when we sing in unity with other souls, everything else is held captive.

 

Music is what causes a change with respect to time.

Or it will watch time fly without bending to the rules of change.

 

Music is a revolution in evolution.

Music is a story in writing and in telling.

Music is a tale of the past, present and the future.

It is a script of forever.

Music lives in us.

We are music!

 

Music might be a misplaced element.

But it is the key.

It is a flowing tune.

It is a script of forever.

Music is; then; now and ever.

Music lives.

And I believe it is in eternity.

 

 

 

 

Asford Psalms

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Photography & Spoken Word

#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Hopeless Hope – Asford Psalm

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Once ago, there lived a man by name Chance and his wife- Hope.

The birth their children; Past, Present and Future.

Long before Present and Future, Past was their one and only.

He got most of what he wanted.

Yet, he grew into what they didn’t suggest.

By his unruly behavior, they begat the Present, his little sister.

Not by his parent’s prayer but the Present got married to what he deserves.

And soon he flew into oblivion to a place where his anger for his parents will travel months before it could reach them.

But their love for him stayed true though they lost touch in all view.

The Present grew half of a day and she saw her mother pregnant again.

Their little family was in a happy display.

 

Hope went into labor and Chance went home to prepare and come to aid her.

Hope couldn’t make it so Future was cut-out for incubation.

The Present and Chance made a back-and-forth; from the hospital to their home, again and again as they hop, hop, hop.

One day, on their way, in the metal horse, his mind was flooded with Hopes thought.

Chance needn’t beg for the same fate.

And amidst all the things constant to change, death wouldn’t obey such laws as made.

The thoughts in his head was a curse of the day as they clashed off the road into a tree in the open plain.

Now, here is the future; dented with the past, no Hope nor Chance but a crippled and dying present.

What has the Future got with none of these around?

Just a word will do.

Do tell when it tinkles in your head.

 

 

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25 Years and Counting: Mahama, Lordina Still Going Strong – SEE IMAGES!

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Here are adorable images of ex-president John Mahama as he celebrates 25 years of marriage to wife Lordina.

Indigene of  Damongo in the Northern region of Ghana, he’s alumnus of the Achimota School, University of Ghana, and the Institute of Social Sciences in Moscow. In 2012, he published My First Coup d’État and Other True Stories From the Lost Decades of Africa, under  Bloomsbury.

Mahama is father of  five children: Shafik,Shahid, Sharaf, Jesse and Farida.

See the breathtaking pictures below:

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Photography & Spoken Word

#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Blister – Asford Psalms

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The spec of birth is with a man

The way to its life is by a woman.

The purest way to this earth is through her labour and her birth.

 

Everyone knows a woman one way or another.

She could be a mother, a sister, a friend, a wife or a daughter.

 

Would you raise your hand against your mother?

Will you dare?

The least said, the better-

If you do, you’ve dishonored a command.

 

Would you raise your hand against your sister?

If you do, then your sense is as tattered as it is bitter.

 

Would you raise your hand up against a friend?

Then clearly you are at your wit’s end.

You have crossed the thin line between sanity and insanity.

She owes you no allegiance.

But even if so, is your hand right way to go?

 

Would you raise your hand against your wife?

Will you dare with person you promised to share eternity with?

If you dare, care to know that the bride’s price you paid is not a price for her abuse.

Put your hands to a good use, it wasn’t created to cause blisters and bruises.

Make prudent, the words you choose, it is worth less than the price of pride.

 

Would you raise your hand against your daughter?

Why not teach her rather than beat her?

Why bleach her eyes to red and let her tears rather be not of joy?

Why burden her eyes and her heart with fear?

She is not worth you nor you, her.

 

Will you raise your hands against your wife or daughter?

If you dare, remember your mother and your sister.

For if you truly dared to raise so much as a finger against them too, then something went fundamentally wrong you.

 

 

Asford Psalms.

 

 

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Photography & Spoken Word

#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Chaos Under Peace – Asford Psalm

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Barking dogs lie.

In wait to bark.

Men own their dogs.

Chance-medley they switch post wouldn’t it be of interest what they will do in the body of the new host?

 

Men are not dogs.

They don’t bark.

 

But dogs are dogs.

Expect as such.

 

Dogs are not men.

Neither men, dogs.

 

Men don’t bark.

Dogs do.

But even without the switch, they both do something your mind has refused and eschewed.

Thinking,

Just maybe a chance be given, they both switch posts.

Wouldn’t it interest you what they both are capable with the will to do?

 

Asford Psalms.

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Photography & Spoken Word

#ENEWSGHPoeticLicence: Matrimony – Poet Amaze ft. Sefakor

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Burgeoning spoken word act Amaze tackles the delicate subject of marriage in his debut piece.

Titled “Matrimony”, and featuring colleague artist Sefakor, the joint explores various aspects of the phenomenon, providing refreshing perspectives which will prove useful to both prospective and already married folks.

Alumnus of the prestigious Ehalakasa Poetry Slam (placing fourth at the national level after winning the preliminaries in Tema), Amaze is in his sophomore year in university, and discovered the spoken word at a tender age.

“Matrimony” was programmed by Nii Teye.

Listen below: 

 

 

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