Aroma Of Memories: Francis Ocran

Here rides in our majestic king
Shrill cry in the wooden colt
Oh! Here's the star of David
Marching legions of stars
Angels,Shepherds and their fold
Spree their fleet of merries
And the men of the east
Before our king present
Gold, Myrrh and frankincense
Oh! A blazing smile from our Lord
The bells are ringing
Chumming in fresh the past
And the noses are smelling
Today and each year
And aroma of memories.

Cold and misty twilight
Wakes ecstatically the day
And the children comes whimpering
Oh! Our new Christmas dress
New disco shoes  and fanta squash
Christmas hats and spectacles
Palm Christmas mansion
A church, kitchen and rooms
And papa and mama's room
Dedicated and specially out of bounds
Old pans, buckets and bowls our dreams
They sweep our feet dancing
The gambling over rice and chicken
Then we fight over  bones and 'kanzo'
Even for papa and mama
Remember not their parenthood
But join the riot of 'kanzo'
All these bring to our memories
Times and moment past
Today and each year
An aroma of memories.

Oh! Less I forget
The swollen red nose clowns
Fearful faced  masquerades
Scare children joy away
They fled without their hats
Into the belly of their mothers
Its as if they never feel their fear
They visit each home till dusk
Little coins here and pennies afar
And folks offer with heart and smiles.
Uncles and aunties
Cousins and nephews
From the big cities
Spice up our memories
With Piccadilly  biscuit and coke
When today and each year arrive
We travel back to yesterday
And within our souls the bell chum
Ringing to all and everyone
An aroma of memories.

Dead Fishes Which Don't Swim: Francis Ocran

This thought that spins my head
I cannot lie to sleep
Before the cook I laid bear
My fleet of grievances
Wondering why she serves me soup
Of dead fishes which don't swim
Aren't my toil hard enough
To feed me living fishes?

Surrender: Francis Ocran

You became a born again
So many years ago without ages
You prefer to polish from dust
Yourself and your Bible
And take the last seat
With your multicolored dress
After church, you can't even
Recall what the preacher did
All this while you were glued
To your phone and the watch
Pendulum tolls you in and out
Of your mind to home
You take pictures with friends
Everyone hails to your name
But the last time you told the pastor
You feel shy to tell the gospel to friends
To sing and share testimony
But you aren't ashamed of your multicolor

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

Hundred Suns Of Hope: Francis Ocran

These hundred of suns
Hibernating in our eyes
Is nothing we seem to care
So they flick in fragility
Today I send many suns
To the glare of all minds
With this ink I spill
Into my pool of tears
To master this fear
It comes,only once it happens
And I didn't even know
The period I was
But the life I lived
Another one's life
A must pleasing servant
I obey and salute
None but the good evil stepmother
Abuses were one and many
It pours on me all day
Heavy like yoke
That stiffened my spine
All then comes to numb
Like clown in a circus
Father enjoyed her tragic performance
His smiles applaud her deadly words
That dispatched my soul
My pitch clashed in my head
Bedwetted by tears each night
Tears not for the pains
That runs on my skin
Like rough paths of slavery
But the eyes to see another day of pains
Voiceless in the loud silence

Life is a race: francispoems

An adage to erase
Life is a race
Such a frantic race
For those in a race
We accrue our rate
To measure our mate
And accord them apace
But I will master this pace
To persue this trace
In this Phrenetic maze.

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This Temple : francispoems

This temple that own
Belong not my own
Of all the parts
And the marvel within
Belongs to a power
And I is of the lower

If this temple lives today 
It has a purpose to pay
A sanctuary to host
To save those lost.
But all in me I host
The stream of mirage
Which don't only drought
At the test of time
But unravel the perils of deceit

How Much Longer : Francispoems

I couldn't pave away
This moment aback
5th May, 1990; that night
A dark previous night,
Our first full year
Our cuddle was cut
Short by the call
Of nation's duty.
You promised a kiss
By this time tomorrow,
But tomorrow not come.
My lips are dried
Yearning to be watered
Again by your lips.
But no letters
No rings on the phone
This tumor wasting me
You don't know
How much longer
Do I have more
To wait or to die?




Take this dry word
Across all the world
If he's not of the earth's
Tell him our daughter
Raven is twenty nine
And we are many
Years  in the window
Million miles waiting
But in our glare
Is a plain of silence
Clouding our loneliness.
Tell him no thread
Can patch the void
He left yesterday
And I know not
How much longer
To wait or to die.


But if he's
Of the earth's
In a pool of dry blood
Let his body away
Off the chattering
Of merciless swords
And blinds that shame
A man his fate.
Close the eyes
That watch the wriggle
Put two coins on them
Put his body to rest
Tell him, to prepare
For the two of us
For I know not
How much longer
Do I have more
To wait or to die

The Woman Who Lives Behind: Francispoems

The neighbour behind my affinity
A faceless black ebony
First order melancholy
And much pretty jolly
In her mid - anniversary.

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