The beauty of a snowflake is
seed with impurity.
A dust atom the foundation
of its crystallisation.

An air of heaven meeting earth,
a divine tango of melting gracefulness;
watering this cold cursed Earth

© Qwey.ku 2023

The beauty of His handiwork drives us miles in the thousands, pursuing awe in the mastered mystery of creation.

We are wonder full at the appearance of mountainous clouds, thick forests and their streams, serene lakes, seas, their neath and the landscaped violence of waterfalls.

Even at the worthy tranquil beauty of mornings microscopic droplets called dew.

Such a creative Heart present and Earthly plain to see of which even the mouths of babes cry praise.

Yet from the day of the open womb atrophy is arm strong, ministering twenty-four hour receipts.
Perplexing why many seek not beyond it?

The first Romans spoke of this mystery and at the eleventh hour the wisdom of learned Hebrews faithfully exposited;

"to diligently seek the Wonderul is to find Him, rewarded with the masterpiece Himself"


© Qwey.ku 2023

'Practice makes perfect' is a Damoclesian carrot fastened with erudite string.

•
Its bite mentally drops.
•

Practice is the whetstone of preparation.

&

Perfecting, the work of The Spirit.



© Qwey.ku 2023

Established thought
unearths reputation as
a time-based construct.

Little wonder He is named;

Rock Eternal
&
Ancient of Days.


© Qwey.ku

There is an evening breeze that comforts the path to Accra by night.

A common wealth for all who conquer its gradient;
prizing the illumination of the citied valley beneath.

A learned African crown jeweled with serene delight
&
little mountain secrets kept best by moonlight.

Unsuspecting souls seen from heights above,
minuscule yet vivid through the glimmer of artificial lights.

Their hidden stories birthing true conversation.
A solace of reasoning with sparse escape from the sofa of the mind.

Picture pleasant occasion frozen in time
found only in joyful thought
&
youthful moments divine...

These are the brightly darkened scenes
under a carpet of stars
channeled through the lens of ‘Accra by Night.’

© Qwey.ku

Deception sought to beckon in the shadows,
But the wind carried the gentle lips of Wisdom,

Whispering;

“...only fools believe in the trickery of darkness.”


Such a fragile bridge
From dusk to dawn today
Its moorings & way too narrow,
The fingers of the heart
clinging to deceit.

Set the dew of diligence at the gate
Like the flaming sword of Eden!
Forbidding fear ingress, but
Thoroughfare to the Comely Trio;

Righteousness, Peace & Joy!

Permit the Spirit of His Kingdom
Wholly reign within.


© Qwey.ku

An ancient river
an old London chapel
& our last summer rays
of such an august Sun
      
The promise of niceties...
laughter, drinks, ice cream
& perhaps a softly stolen kiss

Fill my hand with yours.

If you please;
a pleasant walk with you
up on Tower Hill

© Qwey.ku

a   h e a r  t   m o u l d  o f   g l a s s

w h e n   p a s s i o n   b r o k e   f r e e

c  l e a  r  l y   my   s o u l   s h a t t e r e d

a s   l o v e s   s p e a r   t h r u s t

t h r o u g h   f i s s u r e s   q u a k e d

o n   t h e   i n s i d e s   o f   m e


© Qwey.ku

My Heart is made of glass
&
in it, I have tried to keep love safe

drenched in a sea of waveforms,
dancing on the ebb of a digital ocean
its crests crowned with sound

pitched upon amplitude tides      
their volume compressed;
reverberating through glass speakers
mere dots in the sands

i hear cadence...
within the music of your speech
how can it be,
such a many word
written,
yet forgotten,
indelibly on your beach?

if we could interpret the oceans
what stories would its sea speak?
of its corruption?
treasures unreturned
to lost and found?
or of its time to give up the dead,
or of the angels that fell to its ground?


© Qwey.ku

I can only infer you
speak of my skin
this beautiful brown
this lovely melanin?

Yes. Father’s no more,
now long gone, but before
he departed he worked
himself to the bone
straying not a day
from home.

As for my colour
you must be blind
the contorted
black darkness
you perceive
has never been mine.

Why is this hue such
an affront to you?
policemen, judge, jury
school-teachers too?

Now it is said
we’re real-good actors;
for we play many a part,
but you pay no mind
to such sentiment nor
proverbial heart-to-heart.

No sah!
Mistake not my
composure for failed
advance, blink once
& I’ll lick you down
given half the chance!

But then you, your ilk
and your briers sown
would just rise again
with sated verbal abuse
& agenda obtuse.

Lawd O’ Mercy
I want off this
deadly semantic
merry-go-round.

Go home!! N * * * * r!!!
Seething; they scream!

...there goes another
coloured criminal
KILLED
for being created
a shade of Eden's
dust of the ground.
Divine-rich-bloodied
melanite brown.

So, when you insult me
I can only infer,
you
speak of my skin;
this beautiful brown,
this lovely melanin.

•
———

T r  e a s u r e

your

m o m e n t s

for
they
soon will be

m  e m o r i e s

———
•


© Qwey.ku

infected by your
contagious smile

for this the heart
has no antidote

© Qwey.ku

ablaze
with
horror,
disbelief,
hopeless grief
&
anger

waves of emotion trigger
compassion of comradery
displayed in nothing but
the simplicity of love.

Oh!

what dawn of terror
on
Grenfell

Despair unrequited asked of me;

where do proverbs, poems...
such wisdom's go to die?

do they expire with the ink of thought
penning themselves out of imagination?
or simply tire of expectation?

tell me
&
i would scourge
that unenlightened grave-site,
guillotine its immoral keeper,
&
decapitate him upon
a writer’s block!

show me
&
i will breach earths bowels
wrenching words from darkness' depths
with the light verse of celebration
&
a calligrapher’s paragraph of praise.

only then should i rest in piece
from wordy passion
scribed with its, novel pleasures

&
when spent, 
upon my epitaph do write;

'she was consumed,
birthing words to life'


© Qwey.ku

Spirit of pleasant memory told me;
(to) keep writing
So
sweetly fell her words
to the crests of my shoulders
she lifted me with high breath...
"the world was waiting".

Selfishly I seek that soul of a day,
such that creation no longer tarries
save at least one precious moment,
sooner, than what was writ afore.

Sometimes the rain falls
as if its penning poetry
to the rhythm of its own music;
a sonic tune of liquid tapestry.

Cleft from a sky immersed
in the scene of a tragedy.
It's tears,
the pitter-patter;
a solemn dance
for all humanity.

An ancient jig this fluid frolic
never tiring of its endless cycle
vesting and revisiting this terra firma
like a lover emasculating the earth
of its desert state,
or adding to its oceans
in a bid to be free.

But you’re here again, I’ve noticed
for even through windows
your music plays a clamorous
and rather brazen beat.

Take my hand, why don’t you?

Come.

Dance with me.



**© Qwey.ku

I speak of love
when I compare you to
sweet summers day
or a rose of its garden

I speak of passage in the sea of time
when I say
forever or always
whichever tide ebbs first.

I speak of knowledge
when I say
the body of a young lady is heavenly
but a womans' decidedly divine

I speak of faith
when I say
nothing good
ever became
without an
inject of pain

I speak of fear
when I used to say
you'd be gone some day
but now I know,
love transcends the grave

© Qwey.ku

the turmoil of the universe
was carved of a canvass
of black so its stars would
shine ever brightly.

our celestial picture is heaven
astrologically saying;

"the darkness of your troubles
simply serves to luminate
the brilliance of beauty
in all your battles of victory...

for even death is undone
with the last flicker of breath
like falling stars leave
a glorious trail of descent"


**© Qwey.ku

Finding oneself is painful.

Its simile is precious gold
never  exorcised with ease.

Only at an arduous end
is carat (er) considered Golden.

Sow

&

“Dig Deep” when life troubles
for Wisdom says you are;
”A Hidden Gem”.


© Qwey.ku

I dreamt of father,
He confided, he was dying.
Mother Mercy watched on,
All knowing,
As he & I embraced...

Through a whisper,
I cried
“I love you”...

Never have I held one so tightly,
As I did last night.


**© Qwey.ku

Take heed, falter not
Your time is currency,
Tied ineffaceably
To the heart rate of
Your Fiscal Policy.

Spent but once,
Priceless
-
A
Beat,
Irretrievable.


“Spend your time wisely"
Advised are we
But time invested
With
Family,
Often
Face-value perceived,
Too steep a price paid
When
Quantified
Monetarily.

Such an idea of a lie,
So psyche ingrained.
Dire submission
of modern humanity
Ever so
Intrinsically sealed
We even
Concede;

“These moments are stolen”
&
our time considered;

“...too precious”



© Qwey.ku

Hope's expectation is
Carried by the wind,
A turbulent sky's ocean,
&
A heaven of jetted wings.



**© Qwey.ku

Believe
not
That familiar,
Wicked whisper

of

Dreams destruction.
Especially when it screams...

"You'll never achieve!"

For

'faith'

Is quantified as the
Intangible

&

Weighed as a tiny
Mustard seed.

Ending with...

Just
Believe.


~ QB

We write our history with footsteps.

Blindly,
We rarely read in between the lines.
Hope is there,
Indelibly, invisibly, inked;
Blood red,
Between every page
of
pain & glory.


~ QB