Have you seen the beauty of the sun
When he rides out in beam chariots
From the smiley faces of the east ??
Have you noticed the moon
Yawning out of the day’s tire
When she rode with the sun??
What about the stars that twinkle ??
Take a time and watch them
Brighten in their lonely union
Don’t stress. Don’t sigh.
For it is for you
They keep the circle.
You are their hope. Keep the strive.
© Lansah Lawrence
Nov. 2016
lansah.wordpress.com
You have known ages
You have been through
The scorn of times
And the wrath of lies
Yet you remained my guide.
You, O cherished friend
Together we be to my end
Like the shields of angels
You guard me from the wrath
Of lustful eyes even on the wrong path
How much more respect
Do you seek to adorn me ?
With your extravagance
I am a humble pride clothed
With simplicity and respect
You pick me out
From the pile of black peas
And make me a shiny pearl.
You grace my graceness
As I step out to the sun.
You make me a perfect whole.
When I put you on
I am the Queen I am
You are my gold cover
You’re my pride. My Hijab.
© Lansah Lawrence
Nov. 2016
lansah.wordpress.com
The past we come from
Holds tight the reminiscence
The blood bond our ancestors
Rode on through the struggles for freedom.
The past we come from
Brews our unity and strength
And eulogizes the blood spill of our fathers
So we can today, be free.
The past we come from
Speaks of times forgotten
Times our roots took a strong shake
Yet we stood firm and as one.
The past we come from
Shall speak of our future
For even after December
We will suck its sweet rum.
© Lansah Lawrence
Nov. 2016
lansah.wordpress.com
Touch my soul
You that lay beside me
In our bed of struggle.
Pull over me the blanket.
Give me cover from the
Cold tickles of our fears
Give me the tap of hope
Sing me a lullaby to sleep
And remind me of morrow’s shine.
When we wake
We shall wear the smiles
Of yesterday’s strives.
© Lansah Lawrence
Nov. 2016.
lansah.wordpress.com
Have you ever experienced an event you may not witness again in your lifetime?? Well , this is one event i am most certain, i will experience no more after today till i leave UG.
Apart from attaining the big boy and legal age , 18, the chance of witnessing an event for only once in one’s life time is very meagre especially when we dont’ plan it ourselves. Even matriculation comes with graduation. So when the roars of valiant men called to witness a most certain once in a lifetime event, i ran out like a guinea fowl who survived a first slaughter, leaving the breakfast i was preparing at noon.
I ran down the stairs to join a swarm of cheerful , bare chested , and hungry bees , hurrying down to the calling voices that promised a lump of honey. Our most respected Chief had a lamp to present for feast in his last days on the stool. As we knelt for the last rituals to Baccus before the give-away, we licked our fingers with the outmost eagerness of a child in Savelugu waiting in line for a box of pizza , the white missionaries had brought for Easter.
After the long wait , our dish was served . Per our customs, we didnt pounce on the sacrificial lamp , atleast not yet. So like the Roman soldiers of Jerusalem , we took our lamp down the streets of Legon in a kingly style. Though half naked, in his last days probably , and with a face that wore hopelessness, he enjoyed our royal carriage of morale chants and horroric threats.Even the curious spectators we amassed , who tried taking photos , saw our hungry wrath. We climaxed our parade with a last minute number of rounds around the Mekki Abbas’s roundabout amidst cheers and applauses even Usain Bolt never received.
Amidst rising tensions and growing fear of an ugly brutal scence , our Chief turned back , so we followed, like a flock of sheep behind their mother after a sumptous graze, and our lamp sweating profusely in the uncertainty of his future, towards the Dean. The chants grew louder, suprisingly, though we grew famished. We dropped the lamp at the feet of the Dean , hoping the lamp would face the legal knife of the Dean. He was lucky, i know he knew.
We sang on our morale songs behind our Chief , after a service to Legon, back to our humble abode , where Truth Stands.
© Lansah Lawrence
Nov. 2016
lansah.wordpress.com
In my drone of imagination, i flew over the brown sheets of the Romantic Vandal city down to the spiritual Baccus garden where i paused to mark my route and breathe in the fragrance of the sweet scented flowers Baccus nursed.
My route marked, i flew low amidst salutes from old mahogany trees down the naked slope of Volta to the Oware circle where two students held high a torch of excellence. I saw the statues from S.K. Asante and Co. who refuse to drink from the lazy pond they pampered.
Akuafo, Legon, and CC remained silent spectators of the Atheletics Oval which yawned to its belly the hunger for a bounce of a ball. Our Queen’s castle seemed a midget lost in the lands of giants.
Down the famous walk lane which lay half-dead from the stamping of hurried feet to and fro the Diaspora, the night market stayed mute at night save for nocturnal light tubes that kept watch for the thief who never comes. Stubborn Sarbah didnt notice me .
As i roamed the market in search of little mice that traded at night, i heared from a distance, whispers of the four sons of the Diaspora. In wonder of which voices those could be, i hid behind little Jubilee to take a peep. Behold !! , far over the fallen grass that haboured noisy crickets who gossiped loved birds that strolled earlier, the Diaspora hosted a collection of witch camps hanging on the stale dark air. I dared not go close.
Sensing my fuel getting exhausted, i turned, heading back to my abode. I sped through the silent skies who turned my spectators. Sarbah field still spoke tongues , my drone felt a hit when it flew over.
Back home and in the coziness of my bed, i still hear the toll of the Balme bell , who reminds us of our purpose here . i still hear the snores of glorious dreams as they slept on, hoping to continue the journey to reality when they wake. With a sense of satisfaction, i go to sleep smiling. I am part of Legon!!!
©Lansah Lawrence
Nov. 2016
lansah.wordpress.com
Lansah Lawrence 