Dilemma: Francis Ocran

To shine, to rain , to none
To  left or the right
Is the lofty mountain
Projecting heights beyond
And the sinking valley
Gets deeper under the feet
To keep the steps array
Or journey this path astray.
The lagging isn't the legs
But a dilema of a pendulum
Uncertainty creeps the heart
Wandering here and there
To take left or  the right
Is a dilemma drumming
In the souls of all
But the answers chim
Squeaking faintly in dilema

Rain: Francis Ocran

I woke on a swirling black clouds
To wind ,to rain, to none
The hook and its bait on the withered plain
Waiting for a prey to swallow and be chocked
Cutlass should till fields not friends
Missiles should luanch balloons not homes
Diversity be a teacher and we his learners
Not to disjunct us as heaven and earth
We adore diverse creators
For our multicolor and multicultural
Meanwhile diversity is a rainbow
That can wake the unconscious folks
And make rain satisfy the withered plain
For our bait to catch a shoal not us

The Fisher: Francispoems

When the day wipes the dawn's frost
He dumbly and dutifully waits on
A duty he always calls
And the fisher must respond
But he's covered coldly
From the breath of the sea
That walks between his teeth
And shiver his spine to the feet
A fate he whishes to keep
But life's thongs he hate.

who am I? : francispoems

I don’t know who I am any more

Unknown creature

A skinny lad soldier

I survived on death’s arena

I fought death's command

Made to wear his mark

Wrote with his pen

Serving death

 His poignant bloody meals

With pain in my heart

I slaughtered with his pen

Dripping souls bloodily

A pool under my feet

Imprisoning my humanity

And my love growing cold

I abused the fragile

Killed the strong

I had no choice

Than eat the meal of death

And survive each day

The evil I groomed

Hunted my existence

Ruling my day

Each day a cost to pay

Butterfly: Francispoems

Butterfly butterfly fly
Flap and slap wings high
Unleash your stream of  colours
Weaving an embodied emblem
Gush out that beautiful charm
Spell the buds
Bloom the rose
Open her doors
Drought her nectars
With that seductive sip

Footprint: FrancisOcran

This thought I'm drain
Something I'm mustn't slain
That fire in each home
Lights up folks darkness.
At each count
I discover undoubtedly 
That I foot many times
Into many chamber of hearts.
Leaving footprints of memories,
The other and pleasant
In all I do
Watch I'm must
My foot prints.

STUCK : francisocran

Each day as I slumber

I dream you led me

Along a dusty footpath

Leading to somewhere nowhere

Where only the instincts can see

And as I get awoken by time

The mind becomes unrest in pieces

Wallowing in many parts

Crouching at many doors

Standing in my fate

As tall as black trolls

But each leads nowhere

Just stuck sculpture stump.

Many : francisthepoet

Many people know how to sing
That have got the voice
But don't know how to gather the traces and sail their goal.

Many people want to break through their limits
Soar and ascend high above
But the zeal is quenched, darkened and frozened
Shivering to temper their journey.

CHAIN OF SEGREGATION: Francisthepoet

Once when boys were men
On the lonely island of pen
In the center of the ocean
Poverty wasn't a word
Wealth was mutual
Fathers and sons united
Until he visited our gathering
Greased our land with contempt
There poverty became a word
And wealth became greed
His chains brought humiliation
Whips of segregation
Parting fathers and sons

CHRONICLES OF ANAS: Francisthepoet

I'm the son of our land
Once a toddler in mother's hand
Chosen out of numerous sons
Just one of a kind
Within my eyes, I saw it
Yes a twist of clouds
Telling tales of elites
Eating into our skin
Like cancer

PERFECT WORLD OF LOVE : Francisthepoet

Perfect world of love
Only handful enjoy
Rest in the wrong world
Yes with the wrong person
Their problems are dozen
Their love and affection frozen
In hatred it thaws rotten
Their love tells a tragedy
 Simply because we all got reasons to love someone
Some crave for loaf
Some desire a companion
A true companion

Encounter with the twins mother's by Francis Ocran

On that fateful day

It was Sunday

Everyone was making to church

There a woman with two twins

Joined our car

Two girls ,two boys

Elder twins walking behind her

JOURNEY WRITTEN BY FRANCIS OCRAN

Dusty rocky path colors our tired feet.The sole is painful and tired from the long walk from childbirth.The dusty wind paints  our clothes stained red.Our sweat baths us in pool of weariness.Thorns arrest weary travellers and stare in their face until they free themselves.The water bottle hangs aimlessly and tightly bolted. It fuels our ability to take the  journey.