hmmm….where do i begin this my tall tale?

How do i tell you this tale that has no end?

Where do i start from?

Who do i tell it to? Should it be  told to Okoro the village mad man who never wear pants? Or should i tell it to Adisa the market woman whose mouth runs diarrhea? No , perhaps i should tell it to Baba the the village drunk or Abiba the husband snatcher.

How do i tell it? Should i whisper it slowly? Or shout it over the mountain top? Or perhaps sing it like the birds in the air?

How should i look when i tell it? Should i dress in my next year’s x’mas dress that has been recycled five times. Or should i borrow Fatima’s dress that has been wore by all the church choir girls?

How should i carry myself? Should i be coy like the Accra house girls that pretend they’re virgins but karate their madams husbands in the bedroom all night long? Should i be meek like the sheep that lie lazily on the path to village’s ‘so called powerful’ prophet who power impotent men’s wives day and night.

Please do let me know, it’s urgent!

I met him once on a popular social media. He was tall and lanky, his body covered in hair reminded me of my soft smooth night blanket. He wore a bright smile just like his eyes wore a coffee-colored medicated reading glasses.And when he smiled… eeiii pooh! his smile broke the chains  lock around my heart just like that! We messaged hi’s and hello’s here and there, i looked up his pictures and i saw his swag! Darm the boy got it!

And then that lonely rainy day when GOD became so angry that he poured the whole heavens down like boom boom! I mastered courage and dialed his number…ring ring, he picked!

“HELLO?”  his voice thundered above the  sound of the rains. My heart skipped a beat and i nearly suffered a heart attack.

“hi, Ebo? ” i whispered , “are you okay? i mean i am…”

“who’s this?” 

“the girl. No ,the woman you spoke to on. NO,  i mean your facebook friend, we chatted about lions and  and..”

“WHAT?” His voice roared.

“Sweetheart who’s that on the line?” I heard her clear  and loud. i dreaded her smooth silky heavy british accent. You could tell she flown first class and wore victoria underwears and that she was the type that wore high heels even to the bathroom; the reason why i hated her the more.

“some crazy girl maybe,” i heard him said.

” Put that damn phone down! and let’s make some love!” it was an ordered, she just ordered him like that; my man. I slipped to the floor imagining what that  wicked -mean girl was doing to my man, my man ooh!

I met him once on a popular social media. He was tall and lanky, his body covered in hair reminded me of my soft smooth night blanket. He wore a bright smile just like his eyes wore a coffee-colored medicated reading glasses.And when he smiled… eeiii pooh! his smile broke the chains  lock around my heart just like that! We messaged hi’s and hello’s here and there, i looked up his pictures and i saw his swag! Darm the boy got it!

And then that lonely rainy day when GOD became so angry that he poured the whole heavens down like boom boom! I mastered courage and dialed his number…ring ring, he picked!

“HELLO?”  his voice thundered above the  sound of the rains. My heart skipped a beat and i nearly suffered a heart attack.

“hi, Ebo? ” i whispered , “are you okay? i mean i am…”

“who’s this?” 

“the girl. No ,the woman you spoke to on. NO,  i mean your facebook friend, we chatted about lions and  and..”

“WHAT?” His voice roared.

“Sweetheart who’s that on the line?” I heard her clear  and loud. i dreaded her smooth silky heavy british accent. You could tell she flown first class and wore victoria underwears and that she was the type that wore high heels even to the bathroom; the reason why i hated her the more.

“some crazy girl maybe,” i heard him said.

” Put that damn phone down! and let’s make some love!” it was an ordered, she just ordered him like that; my man. I slipped to the floor imagining what that  wicked -mean girl was doing to my man, my man ooh!

Heart break.

Heart break.

When we meet in that little circle of ours
It is as if the world was ours and we the world.
For i breathe only you and wish each night never pass.
Your arms are my shelter
Your words fill me with joy.
I dance along to your sweet words and am dazed with the glory from your eyes.
When your lips touch mine, the taste captures my emotions. I look around and
It is as if we are the only ones here-in love with love.
In that little circle of ours
Jan 9, 2012

When we meet in that little circle of ours
It is as if the world was ours and we the world.
For i breathe only you and wish each night never pass.
Your arms are my shelter
Your words fill me with joy.
I dance along to your sweet words and am dazed with the glory from your eyes.
When your lips touch mine, the taste captures my emotions. I look around and
It is as if we are the only ones here-in love with love.
In that little circle of ours
Jan 9, 2012

When we meet in that little circle of ours
It is as if the world was ours and we the world.
For i breathe only you and wish each night never pass.
Your arms are my shelter
Your words fill me with joy.
I dance along to your sweet words and am dazed with the glory from your eyes.
When your lips touch mine, the taste captures my emotions. I look around and
It is as if we are the only ones here-in love with love.
In that little circle of ours
Jan 9, 2012

When we meet in that little circle of ours
It is as if the world was ours and we the world.
For i breathe only you and wish each night never pass.
Your arms are my shelter
Your words fill me with joy.
I dance along to your sweet words and am dazed with the glory from your eyes.
When your lips touch mine, the taste captures my emotions. I look around and
It is as if we are the only ones here-in love with love.
In that little circle of ours
Jan 9, 2012

Poetry for Peace
Thunder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is still missing.
Women with childern pinned to their backs run here and there looking for shelter..but alas peace is faraway!
Our hearts have become a bed for fear,despair and helplessness.
Our women have become drawings displayed in forgotten art show rooms
Thurder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is missing
Where and when will we find you..
We are tired of singing dirges everyday..we need peace
written for YWJ
Ghana
Oct 1

Poetry for Peace
Thunder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is still missing.
Women with childern pinned to their backs run here and there looking for shelter..but alas peace is faraway!
Our hearts have become a bed for fear,despair and helplessness.
Our women have become drawings displayed in forgotten art show rooms
Thurder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is missing
Where and when will we find you..
We are tired of singing dirges everyday..we need peace
written for YWJ
Ghana
Oct 1

Poetry for Peace
Thunder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is still missing.
Women with childern pinned to their backs run here and there looking for shelter..but alas peace is faraway!
Our hearts have become a bed for fear,despair and helplessness.
Our women have become drawings displayed in forgotten art show rooms
Thurder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is missing
Where and when will we find you..
We are tired of singing dirges everyday..we need peace
written for YWJ
Ghana
Oct 1

Poetry for Peace
Thunder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is still missing.
Women with childern pinned to their backs run here and there looking for shelter..but alas peace is faraway!
Our hearts have become a bed for fear,despair and helplessness.
Our women have become drawings displayed in forgotten art show rooms
Thurder is fast approaching but the aroma of peace is missing
Where and when will we find you..
We are tired of singing dirges everyday..we need peace
written for YWJ
Ghana
Oct 1

SWEET LOVING.
sweet loving is hard to find but once u do it’s sweeter than honey,brighter than the moonlight.
The kisses get more passionate than the passion friut,
The heart faster than a drum.
Sweet-loving…lovely than the lilies.
The heart loses itself and the spirit feels new like the morning dew upon the fields.
Nov 18, 2011

SWEET LOVING.
sweet loving is hard to find but once u do it’s sweeter than honey,brighter than the moonlight.
The kisses get more passionate than the passion friut,
The heart faster than a drum.
Sweet-loving…lovely than the lilies.
The heart loses itself and the spirit feels new like the morning dew upon the fields.
Nov 18, 2011

SWEET LOVING.
sweet loving is hard to find but once u do it’s sweeter than honey,brighter than the moonlight.
The kisses get more passionate than the passion friut,
The heart faster than a drum.
Sweet-loving…lovely than the lilies.
The heart loses itself and the spirit feels new like the morning dew upon the fields.
Nov 18, 2011

SWEET LOVING.
sweet loving is hard to find but once u do it’s sweeter than honey,brighter than the moonlight.
The kisses get more passionate than the passion friut,
The heart faster than a drum.
Sweet-loving…lovely than the lilies.
The heart loses itself and the spirit feels new like the morning dew upon the fields.
Nov 18, 2011

SWEET LOVING.
sweet loving is hard to find but once u do it’s sweeter than honey,brighter than the moonlight.
The kisses get more passionate than the passion friut,
The heart faster than a drum.
Sweet-loving…lovely than the lilies.
The heart loses itself and the spirit feels new like the morning dew upon the fields.
Nov 18, 2011

SWEET LOVING.
sweet loving is hard to find but once u do it’s sweeter than honey,brighter than the moonlight.
The kisses get more passionate than the passion friut,
The heart faster than a drum.
Sweet-loving…lovely than the lilies.
The heart loses itself and the spirit feels new like the morning dew upon the fields.
Nov 18, 2011

Her eyes hold the secrets to a man’s heart,they are mysterious yet inviting.
Her pretty deep coffee eyes could lure even the most adamant heart.
Her eyes though sad could melt any heart.
She looks on whiles her onlooker yearns for her passionately.
Her eyes distress, seek shelter for her broken heart but she hesitates and tears pour out like rain.
The eyes of a woman..who can read them?
Dec 29, 2011

Her eyes hold the secrets to a man’s heart,they are mysterious yet inviting.
Her pretty deep coffee eyes could lure even the most adamant heart.
Her eyes though sad could melt any heart.
She looks on whiles her onlooker yearns for her passionately.
Her eyes distress, seek shelter for her broken heart but she hesitates and tears pour out like rain.
The eyes of a woman..who can read them?
Dec 29, 2011