Fallen Star

Fallen star!

Adored, cherished, appreciated 
held in high esteem; the star.
Adorned, worshiped, pampered 
the pride of Adams ribs.
 Loved, the star she was made to believe she was. 
Served, fed, bred and showed off to the towns.
From the east to the west, 
to and fro,
up and below 
far and near. 
The drums beat to celebrate the star of Adam's ribs. 
Adam the lucky one. 
Celebration, laughter, dancing, glorious moments in a town only those who have been can describe its beauty, warmth and style. 
Adams vile, 
Adams empire, 
Adams star, 
the pride of every woman being; Adams star, 
The pride of every man. 
A true star is borne to brighten Adams world! 

She had no idea how stars were made,
all she knew was, she was his star. 
She did not know how stars came about,
 all she realized was; 
she had become a star over night; 
his star. 
Adams star, 
in Adams world, 
a world of stars. 
Pride and joy filled her heart. 
Pride because she was his star, his pride. 
Joy for she had found joy in him whilst the star she was  had brought him joy as well. 
Adorned with pride, 
the beads she wore were elegant on the skin of her dark shining body. 
Adams beads, 
Adams beads made just for her, 
Adams beauty, 
his star! 

Bragging and hitting his chest 
Adam! Adam! Adam!

Posterity would hear this... 
He had made a star out of her .
When pride begets honour and self sufficiency, 
it's time to strip her of all honour.
 Would a star forget who made her..
 Would the pot forget the potter and would a chicken forget mother hen.. 
Though he beat drums to announce the star He had made her, 
threw a feast to celebrate her,
 He stripped her of all He had made her. 
When she laments, she realizes that a star cannot forget her maker when she hurts. 
She recalls that when Adam makes you a star, 
He can still scar you. 
When he looks at her, 
he hits his chest and forgets the star He had made her.
 Stars can be made out of any one. 
Adam can easily find another star. 
Perhaps she was wrong to have thought he would not. 
Wrong to have believed that stars would never fade. 
Deceived by beauty, 
misled by the star He had made her.
 Lost in a world of fame, glory and vanity.
 Once Adams star,
 the star Adam beat his drums for, 
now a fallen star!

Celebrating You!!

Celebrating you!!!

Thank you to all the beautiful people in my life.
Thank you to all the people who have made my stay here beautiful.
Thanks to the ones who have been nothing but pests in my life.
Thanks to everyone who is part of my world.
Celebrating you whilst I still have you.
I shan't wait till you are gone from this world to say nice things  about you.
I will celebrate you now and at the least opportunity I get, but certainly

will not wait till you can speak or hear no more.'

Have you said 'thank you' to anyone today...
Have you said 'I love you' to someone today...

When was the last time you celebrated the people who bring smiles to your face?

If you haven't, may I ask when you plan to....Would you rather wait to pay them glowing tributes when they are lying still and unable to speak?

What's all this, glorifying the dead when we never even celebrate them when they are alive.
Paying them tributes when we never for once said a nice word to them in person or even behind them.
What is this world turning into..
This is a clarion call to you and you!

Let's  learn to celebrate people whilst they are still alive, here on earth and not in death. Let's just throw a party in celebration of the people we cherish instead of the 'after life somber farewell party'.

Whatever you can contribute to make someone else's stay here on earth beautiful, be it going an extra mile or just the little every day things that we take for granted. The time to do it is now.

God continue to bless all  who make my world beautiful.

Yesterday, the sun went down on another beautiful soul. With fond memories of
Adjoa Asieduah Opare(Adjoa Baker).My siblings and I will miss you.
RIP.

Pretty in Body, Mind and Soul

Pretty in body, mind and soul

A field filled with many trees and flowers;
Big fancy and small trees,
Fancy flowers;
Sweet wild scented flowers.
Friendship is like a field of flowers,
We pick and choose which people to call friends;
Sweet friends,
Fancy friends,
It is called a life of friendship because that is what we choose.
Ours is a field of all kinds of flowers;
I pick the wild,
the sweet,the fancy,the ugly.
Yet, ours blossoms and grows.
You pluck me and I pick you.
You throw me away sometimes,
I dump you at other times.
Most often,you just ignore my sweet smell and choose others over me.
It feels like am not fanciful and sweet enough.
Sometimes you pick,throw me in the fields and just let me wither.
Another time, you come and pick me,nurse and replant me.
I blossom and grow again because of all the  attention, affection and care.
Then you pick me yet again and throw me away, as if you would  never need  me.
How many times would I let you pick me...
How many times would I let you dump me...
How many times would I let you choose others over me...
How many times would i start all over again because of you...
Whether fanciful or sweet,
Whether wild or fresh,
I deserve to be taken care of and treated like other flowers.
If not,
I refuse to be picked ever again by you.
Ask me why and i would tell you;
I'm too pretty in body,mind and soul!!!

What Would You Be Remembered For.....

What would you be remembered for...

   I have just finished reading Deeidei Adu's 'Oh love that won't let me go...' again. Surprisingly, though I had read it before I cried each time I flipped through  the pages.

   She had been battling with Lam, an incurable disease and had been writing down her experiences. Hoping to be cured completely, she kept writing it all down awaiting her final miracle to publish her book. Her own healing had just come in a different way: in death.

   Though I found that a bit awkward, one thing is clear, she had craved for her healing and was confident that it would happen. Thus she kept at it.  Obviously she was a woman who thought every experience was worth writing down if her book should sell one day.

   Why would you keep writing a book hoping to conclude it  only when you were healed despite the long wait? Couldn't she have just gone ahead and finished writing the last chapter expressing the hope of being healed one day instead of waiting forever?

   Deeidei's battle with lam; her long wait to get healed; and her preparations towards writing her final chapter could be likened to the experience of the children of Israel in the Bible when they had to cross the red sea. There they were, faced with the red sea. Yet, there was no room for retreat because according to Pharaoh of Egypt, God was a poor general who left no room for retreat.

   Yes! because crossing the red sea was an obvious impossibility and turning back was not an option either because behind them was Pharaoh’s army, giving the Egyptian king that false sense of security, believing that  his people were ready for battle.

   Yet God proved himself a poor general to Pharaoh (perhaps, God proved that Pharaoh rather fitted the description of a bad general)  as he (God) bids his children move in  only one  direction; forward. He parted the red sea for the children of Israel  and yet closed it on  Pharaoh and his people.

    It's simple, keep walking because giving up is not an option in life. Whatever it is you are called to do; whether to lead or to offer community service...whatever race it is you are called to run in; whether it is a marathon or a sprint; keep running never give up. Even if it's a deadly disease, keep fighting till he beckons you home.

   Whilst still here on earth, let’s strive to make at least, a small dot in life. In the end, it is what we do, what we stand for and the footprints that we leave behind that  would be our memorial.

   How would you want to be remembered? What would you want to be remembered for?  Deeidei left behind, a few chapters with just one to conclude her book. Her death was described as the healing she had so much desired because she had battled for years so even in death for her; she could not lose. She had someone write the final chapter to make a complete book and today people like me can read and get inspired.

   What about us, are you done with the book you are called to write...Would it be easy for another person to conclude it for you in case you are unable to do it in person...

    Life is a book we are writing, every year we get to write a chapter. Wishing you all the best as you write each page to compile each chapter for the legacy you would leave behind.
What would you be remembered for...

Dance With The Sun

Dance with the sun

I can feel my heart giving me warning signals
I can feel my brains dictating to me to wake up
I feel my body aching and yearning to heal from this torture.

My heart is failing me
as I cannot stop it from the pain it feels at parting with the sun that rose on my world
Glorious moments; glorious sun!

My heart continues to beat for the sun
I'm hating me as of now,
Hating me in the midst of deceit; backstabbing and hurt.
My heart can still beat for the sun though my brain has not been completely shut out.
I have refused to just think
Perhaps too many situations and events encompassing,are reminiscent of the sun.

Thoughts of the long talks about nothing important
Memories of the shared sweet kisses
The lingering attraction that seemingly drew us close for reasons i still cannot spell out;
the awkward moments when either of us were mad at the other;
the realization that one was hurting;
the weird and uneasy feeling of seeing or knowing that one was upset.
The times when we apologised not because we were wrong but because of the value we each placed on the bond that we shared.
The melting moments when you gazed at me and i lost all mental functioning.
The little things;the hugs;the pecks;holding out the door.

Tears well up
Tears of joy
Joy that I had;
the best time of my life;
the bestdays.
Tears of remorse
that I had gotten so obsessed and lost myself in the glorious days and warmth of the sun only to have my heart crushed.
Regret that inspite of it all, I found not the strength to leave it all behind.
The hurt and suffering of aching and longing for the sun.

I hate myself
I hate myself that it has taken forever to mend the pieces.
I hate myself that i claim to have moved ahead yet reminisce on the glorious days with the sun.
All the pain and hurt have melted;
healed but stuck.

I hate the sun right now
I hate the sun
The effects it had on me has left chains on every wrist of mine.
My legs are free
My wrists feel chained
I hate the sun not for my dance with him but for the effects the dance had on me!

Lasting effects
A favourite novel; turned the most hated novel.
A longing to read that novel again amidst all the speculations;its imperfect pages; knowing that someone might have read it after me.
Truly insane,a dance with the sun!

That dance refuses to be flushed out of my memory,
how then do I free myself
break the chains off my wrists
Oh what a dance!
The sun!
How saddening to have danced with the sun and have it go down on me.

What happened

What happened

When we first met,
didn't know we would become friends.
When we became friends I would have doubted it if someone had said i would be this fond of you.
Fond of you to a point I could hate it when you ignored me.
These past few days with you have been lovely.
I've smiled a lot more,
I've laughed harder.
I've felt special because you make me feel that way
I always want to be at this place where I can be just made to feel special by you.
You made my mornings when I heard from you,
my days a lot easier to go through because you always would speak to me.
What happened to wanting to make me feel special
What happened?
Imagine feeding me with ice-cream and now rock salt
What happened?