Friday, 2 October 2015


Ripe egg
Bearer of gold eggs

Your wings spread beautifully abroad
Peacock in flight
You swallow the pebbles of my despair
Your love reminds me of old God

You mean so much
Words are prisoners of your love
Your smile spreads across  
Your voice is a tale on noble tongues

I will tell my mother about you
And remind your mother of her beautiful tree
Planted in the heart of a young lover

Copyright (C) 2015

Tuesday, 29 September 2015


Mother told me about the shapely sun
That appears once in a blue moon
Carrying thoughts of the unborn
So I waited for her august arrival

I waited where the dusty roads kissed and broke
Where the roads embraced our town
It blossoms in the king’s forest
In all tranquility

I stood on restless dust
She eats me; the dust, I eat her
I eat the dust
Till my skin dries
I stood amidst the unwelcome of crippled branches
Darkness rushed by, across my shoulder
Fear mounted upon our soul's silhouette, unyielding
Our earnest plea was lost in the wind’s sail.

Many nights passed
The royal gongs were agog
They came, love birds
They came to where they had began
Perched on the tree’s waiting arms
Ohene wraps himself in her sunken breast
Sprinkling each other with sweet melodies of delightful memories

My admiration for the old lovers soared

Then, you showed up
My dearest!
Colorful bird among birds!!
More beautiful than a Goldian Finch
My thoughts flew out of my chest into hers
I wept and she knew why
She wept also, her love pierced my heart to glee

My armour-bearer; my kings guard
Stay here, my dome, my Lorlornyo
For, you are the black sun that should rise daily atop my roof

On ethereal eternal nights

Copyright (C) 2015

Friday, 25 September 2015


A voice draws near,
Singing heavenly of hell
We cup our hungry ears to hear the murderous melody, which cut into our bones
And sinews
And flesh
And throws us into a frenzy
We are told of certain men
Men like us, men unlike us
Men like goats

They are men of honour, yet, they seek the illumination of fools and the possession of robbers
Their stubbornness stink like a goat's anus
The candor of courageous forefathers have departed them
No, they have departed the candor of courageous fathers

For, only a cup of wine
a pottage and a coin will save them
but for a moment,  just this moment

They trap themselves!
Endanger themselves and freeze others to danger, even owls flee
They are like darkness.
They are darkness of sorts.


May the wind of life blow treachery away, and send them our warm songs of hope.
Till our hearts lead them back to us.

Copyright (C)  2015

Thursday, 17 September 2015



He sieves our fate...


Our slave masters infuse their choice words...


And we call ourselves liars...

hope and love and faith

Who will, though weary lift up our sinking voices again?

Copyright (C)  2015

Wednesday, 16 September 2015


Sweat and gold
Sweat on gold
Sweat is sweat
Gold is gold
Sweat is gold

Copyright (C) 2015

Monday, 24 June 2013


The night always young
peasants resuming from labor
Noise of children so real and loud
Igniting a chorus through every deafening silence

Each day too young to die
Footprints denting sand dunes
All are busy, none will dare sleep
Every man at his best

Household sits around the illuminating fire
Listening to the sage as he unties wisdom knot
Gray hairs nods in agreement amidst the lads
And in a mellow mood they enjoy every word

Tell us legends which preceded our birth,
and why death has no cure, they seem to ask
But night has journeyed far and old folks are weary,
They wait for a fortnight

Forever my love at first sight.

1Ekurase: Akan name for village


I choose to write what they will ignore.
What they will not write in their stack of sheets-
Those reports of how they manipulated the sphere.
And influenced the courts of justice.
Yes, I know, 
they'll pick with me a fight
For I shed light on our plights. 
Our rights to enjoy the taxes we work so hard to pay. 
Not to pay bribe again before we get our monthly pay.

Now, be alert and tell them not to pervert. 

We've seen all the fake certs they use- We are Africans, not jerrycans  
Or T-rolls to be used and dumped.

Our schools shelf our knowledge in papers they call thesis. 

Our labour sits as white elephant waiting rot, when it could bring redemption to our homes.
These notes only sell 1abele na nketie 

Therefore, In sobriety I ask of our nation-
Of our leaders to take second thoughts-
To think or we sink.

1abele na nketie: roasted maize and groundnut sold in Ghana and served in brown papers or used newspapers.

First published at

Copyright (C) 2013

Friday, 14 June 2013


The wind blows over all

The fool and the wise

The rich and the wealthy

The mighty and the not-so mighty

So who can avert the wind's course, except to position himself?

Copyright (C) 2013

Thursday, 6 June 2013


Do not let me in
If I stop by your wretched home
In search of shelter.

Do not serve me a glass of water
If I stop by your wretched home
To quench my thirst.

Do not spare me your time
If i stop by your wretched home
To greet you.

Do not, I pray you! do not
For I must reach the end of my journey
And it is not my wish to be your acquaintance or carry you along
Oh lazy cocoon, you can never be my bosom friend.

Copyright (C) 2012

Tuesday, 4 June 2013


We fight our enemies over a grain yet
The greenery stare us in the face and
In silence we chant
‘We shall destroy you at the ripening of dawn,
Crackling of noon and rotting away of dusk’.

We drown our enemies over a drop yet
The vast waters flow seamlessly in our presence and
In silence we chant
‘We shall bury your strength in the heart 
Of this earth,
Of waves roaring and breeze twirling’.

We covet our enemies over a crumb yet
Our table is filled with meat and more meat and
In silence we chant
‘We shall starve your desires from the music of hope,
Illumination of their sun and the dance of progress’.

Alas, why fight our own?
Mimicking the jealousy of crabs;
Of selfish men
Of wolves in sheep’s clothing
So we prowl and stagger strenuously in strange shoes; in search of another dream
Forgetting that wind like death knows all, the grain and the green
The crumb and the fill, the drop and the stream
Blowing all into one chaff
Only to notice we have been naked while the real enemy mocked us akimbo
Shun Hatred.

Copyright (C) 2013
4th June 2013


(Yusuf tickles Abiba..they smile..She tickles him)
You sparkle like the sun in its prime
and like the moon in full bloom
so stick with me like dust to earth, that
just like Romeo and Juliet
we remain, Yusuf and Abiba.

Copyright (C) 2013

Monday, 6 May 2013


I was invited by Abena, a friend and sister to perform at her wedding in early 2012. The link is here
It was a great honour and I am sharing the video with you.

You may book an appointment with me to do a special performance for you at your wedding or other your special events. It will be tailored to meet your need. You can contact me at sharkmellon@gmail.comand I will reply you immediately.

Tuesday, 9 April 2013


The Sun stays awake while the Moon sleeps.

The Moon stays awake while the Sun sleeps.

If only we would in this manner live,

Being each other’s keeper; watching each other’s back,

The world will always see light, day or night.

Copyright (C) 2013

Wednesday, 2 January 2013


There is this man I know
Who once dined with kings but now begs at the entry
He crippled the legs of his Cause and
tainted the legacy of his forebears and
His descendants painfully suckle the breasts of his truncated dreams.

There is this man I know
Who once dined with kings but now begs at the entry
He removed the bridge after his crossing to one end and
destroyed the last wick of the lantern when the sun shone at full strength and
His armour was useless at the heart of night.

There is this man I know
Who once dined with kings but now begs at the entry
He lifted his voice against the prince of the palace and
defied the kings’ order and
His place among royals is no more.

There is this man I know
Who once dined with kings but now begs at the entry
He tasted from the sweet puddings of life and
hoarded the waste from the lowly and
His glory now hangs in the past.

There is this man I know
Who once dined with kings but now begs at the entry
He danced himself lame before the main dance began and
Thrust his future in the midriff to death and
His pride caught up and overtook him in the race of life.

My Lord!
My Lord!!
My Lord!!!
Save us from ourselves and the fangs of pride and complacency
That I rip not my labour in twain, with they like me.

Copyright (C) 2013

Monday, 3 December 2012


Today I visited a couple who married this year. They are very good friends of mine and I had not paid them a visit since they tied the nuptial knot in August. I went in the company of Kwame and Vero who are also friends of the couple. At their place we helped ourselves to juice drinks, biscuits, chocolate cake and buttered bread plus a good dosage of laughter.

We engaged in a hearty chat about our families, friends, church, work, and the upcoming elections. We spent quite a good amount of time discussing the brow-raising chronicles of political parties going heaven and hell to snatch votes from every tom, dick and harry.

Damn!! Our favourite Scooby doo, champions’ league fixtures and African magic have been crowded out with campaign adverts of all forms and lengths. Can you imagine? An aspirant sits behind the cameras at Labone kanda somewhere, appears before my screen, talks and talks several minutes of the hour till my head aches. He ends by asking us to vote for him and his party. How I wished I could also ask him a question! 

Komla! Have you heard rumors of aspiring candidates distributing gifts all over the place just to win votes? Then I must suggest to you the country isn’t as broke as we are being made to believe.

See, I have come to the conclusion that if someone desires to control you, his first aim will be to capture and subject your thinking to his by telling you how miserable you are. When he’s done that, he can now hurt and loot you as much as he pleases, but remember "…to resist oppressors’ rule". Simple!

A chip in! I heard the story of a Danish student who came to Ghana some few years back to conduct a research towards her Master’s degree thesis. Her topic was something about Democracy and Elections in Africa.

During her interviews, she was told that in election years, political parties were their best and that they gave gifts to party supporters and floating voters in order to win their thumbprints on the d-day. She was shocked to learn that such gifts included bags of rice, tubers of yam, garri and shito, cash for pami (palmwine) and deodorant spray among others.

About a month after returning to Denmark, rumour started flying all over the place that she had no option but to manufacture her own set of findings for submission. (lol) The information she gathered here I believe was too difficult to swallow.
A close friend of hers confirmed the story but emphasized that the danish fellow later rescind her decision not to submit the original findings about tubers of yam for votes blah blah blah.

Back to the point, this year arguably has been the most dramatic to say the least. I dare say without a shred of doubt that 2012 would comfortably make the shortlist of top five worst years in the country’s history books beginning with the Woyome Brouhaha as the lead catalyst.
On 2nd June, we are met with this breathstopping news: ‘Cargo plane hits bus in Ghana airport crash’ was how BBC captioned it. ‘Airplane crashes around 37 military hospital, trotro hit, 11 die instantly, several injured”, others declared.  

Simultaneously another airplane in neighbouring nigeria crashes into a skyscraper leaving all passengers dead. Both news indeed broke the nation and Ghana wept. You could almost reach out your hand and touch the pain that swept the country. My friend and former coursemate Evans tabariyeng aka Popo was one of the 11. May his soul rest in peace!. We had barely recovered from the shock when the first man of the land, having battled with an ailment passed on. The brouhaha surrounding his death leaves much to be desired, Surprised? Forgot he died many times before his death? Forgot the reasons attributed to his demise were as much as the people who spoke about it? Rest in Peace your Excellency late John Evans Atta Mills. The next day H.E John Mahama was sworn-in to step into in his boss’ shoes. Law and constitution? Yes.

It wasn’t long after returning from the graveyard than we had to return to it again to bury 18 men and women who lost their lives when the Melcom Achimota building collapsed. Workers of ‘where good things happen fame’ were trapped under concrete slabs as young men and women rushed to the scene to salvage our brothers and sisters. The salvation campaign lasted 4 days and nights so some survived. Komla, let’s snap our fingers for the Israeli government who sent in almost 24hours an 8-man team with a dog onboard a flight straight across the oceans to come help the rescue mission. NADMO is indeed grateful.

Komla, to think that  building came down flat as if it stood on no foundation still baffles me, the last time I saw such a spectacle was in a movie. My goodness!! This tragedy caught international attention and I am convinced it should be the first of its kind the world over. Just this november, His Excellency Aliu Mahama the former vice president under Mr. John Agyekum Kuffour having battled a heart disease for a while finally gives up the ghost. Remember he was predicted to have died 3 days earlier? At this point, our BP’s rose and set to explode, my sincere condolence to his dear family. Our beloved country Ghana was going through turbulent times, on the back of elections perching in the corner i suppose on one leg, or two legs?

From nowhere Mr. Ayariga steps in legendarily to curtail the gloom by sending us into days of uncontrollable laughter and fun. As one of 7 presidential aspirants seeking the highest office of the land, he was obliged to participate in the Institute of Economic Affairs Presidential Debate at Tamale, one of two to be held before eligible voters went to the poll.

To our shock, Mr. Ayariga singlehandedly stole the night, bombarding 25million Ghanaians, the diaspora and online community with his own set of English grammar and conjured expressions. Making a mess of his subject-verb agreement, we suffered severe ear damages on both occasions.
Komla, ghanaians are becoming just as complicated as EPL fans. See, individuals and groups threatened to boycott the second IEA debate if Ayariga was not attending.

He had in the morning informed Joy fm radio station that he had caught a severe cold and would therefore not attend the debate to be held at the Accra International Conference Centre. Three hours later, he changed his mind, confirming his participation and the dulled ghanaian social media sprang to life again.See, most people thought he was a joke ever thinking of becoming the president of this country and suggested he considered a career in stand-up comedy. Well? What do you think?

‘Operation feed yourself’, ‘we don’t have oil, they have sold the oil’! ‘Ayarigarism! Ayaricough!’ ‘We will encourage their salaries!’ ‘My father my brother and my brother!’ ‘We will employ soil scientists! Agrikalcha!’ he declared. Mr. Ayariga’s popularity has shot up far more than the enemies he made overnight in the People’s National Congress (PNC). Some Executive members have since called for his head ahead of the Presidential Polls claiming he was out-of-touch on issues and that he brought upon the party irreparable damage. Mr. Ayariga seems unperturbed, a cause to worry.

I thought presidential hopeful Hassan Ayariga would remain tightlipped after the second debate in which many say he literally coughed Nana Akufo Addo out of his submissions; he went a step further during the Otumfuo-IDEG Kumasi Peace Declaration. Ayariga halted his campaign and got himself busy with preparing his speech. When it was his turn to speak, he took to the stage, acknowledged the teeming cheering crowds, defined Ayarigate as the latest word in the dictionary to be ‘someone who makes a whole nation laugh, smile and JOY’. So at that, Otumfuo, Rawlings and Kuffour smiled. See, I almost agreed to folks’ views sooner than i envisaged that the PNC flagbearer will consider a change of career, it would be stage or showbiz.

My friend, tension is high between ruling and opposition parties, scores of propaganda flying at each other, Issuance of Press Statements and counter Press Statements, Pockets of violence at Kyebi and Ashtown, Nana Akufo Addo and John Mahama rounding up their campaigns. Mr. Sakara and Papa Ndoum are also on the ground taking it slowly but surely. Komla, as it stands, the best our media houses can do to minimize the tension is to play sound bites of Mr. Ayariga’s IEA speeches. I bet it will do more good to the vain peace blabbering all over the place, which is forgotten as soon as it’s uttered.

The year has indeed been replete with bad news but we should be happy that we can still laugh together as a people despite our political differences, thanks to Ayarigate Worldwide. My final word, good luck to all aspirants. God bless our homeland Ghana and make our nation great and strong. Let’s meet at the Jubilee house come January 7, 2013 in one piece and not in pieces.

3rd December, 2012
Copyright (C)

Title Credit: Nana Kofi Owusu (Above)
Photo: Rhymepixels 

Sunday, 11 November 2012


Nii. you do not see my tears whenever they drop?
You ask where I got this scar from and I always knew!
That one bright morning, you will find an answer that will outshine...
the dark evil days when daybreak seemed much more than a miracle
Now I know I cannot cover this wound, this scar
Or can any man survive without breadth? No.

Nii, today, I will reveal the secret of yesterday
Of that day when we and them at bay,
When our skin eaten by disease turned white and red,
In a wooden Ark unlike that of legendary Noah, death stared us in the face.
It meant nothing!
Negroes flung into the jaws of the ocean, we saw no more,
Only the spatter of their bodies rumbled by the raging waves we heard.

Only in our memories your fathers remain, this picture remains
As they sailed our heroes(us) for sale, of the tribe of Da-Nii.

Son, yesterday is history
Today, it’s a story-
The story of a living picture of a dead people.

Copyrights (C) 2012
Performed on the POETS Facebook Page in contest with Daniel Kojo Appiah and Ganyobi Nii Sackey on the 4th February, 2012