Periwigs and Petticoats fell out of favour for ipads and twitter feeds. No...
Escaping boredom, I take the road to freedom, and find myself tangled in a...– http://williamsaintgeorge.blogspot.com/2012/09/entangled.html
The stupidest component of the computer system is the end user”. Truth...– Seen on a CNET comment stream
And So I Discovered Haiku →
My First Published Flash Story →
It happens to be funny, especially if you’re Ghanaian, but it’s a universal theme everyone can get. Do read :)
Rhapsody on a Windy Afternoon by Madhumita Ghosh:... →
Hearts and Unicorns
Of hearts and unicorns, and fancy clad ladies. It’s for a game of “Pick and Play”, Under a canopy of crows and rainbows. Little bells beat in the storm, and chime like reversed death-knells calling you from the grave of living, to the endless promenade, hand in hand, under the scrutiny of friends and family. Of tear drops and split throats, or worse, of broken...
Black Woman, Wake Up: A Critical Look →
An essay on a poem.
Creativity does not just require free thought, it requires there be a struggle...
The first step in winning the war, is acknowledging that there is a war....
It might not have been the devil. It might have been us all along.– Where’s the Fridge
Mental Prostitute, A Sonnet
Try so hard to be someone then you forget what you’ve become. Your day job is a constant frown, your diadem, a leaded crown. You strut the streets with oppulence, yet are not paid your recompense; you lie, you cheat just to get by. alone, you’re broken, and you cry. The world’s a stage, but not for you. You cannot ignore what is true: You’re a filthy, broken...
So I started this new blog, I call Where’s The Fridge. It’s been great so far. The response has been positive. A quick primer: The blog is where I place all those thoughts I can’t communicate well in verse, or photos. Most of them are candid comments on issues the world over. I’ll be exploring a wide range of subjects. Will keep you posted. Here’s the link: ...
Don Kenn →
Here's a great poet who really wants to help. →
Now on deviantART →
At Christmas Time
At Christmas time, The windows close And fog out The chilly clime. The stars in the sky, Are burning and bright. The children are warm And cozy inside, And the little match girl Is left out to die.
Japanese. I’v never been interested in the language. Same thing goes for the culture too. Well that was true up until last Saturday, when I finally(?) watched Studio Ghibli’s “Spirited Away”. The movie was subtle, yet rife with imagination and sentiment. The enduring love of the lead character (alas, due to the above, I do not remember her name, and I have little time to...
Latest Poetry →
My New Poetry Project
Hello! Here’s the link to the project, so you can avoid this reading. http://seriouspoetry.wordpress.com/2011/10/31/ghost-on-guard-to-nkrumah-a-critical-look/ The aim of this project, which as at now has no name, is to review the very best of Ghanaian poetry. I started off with a piece on Nkrumah, but there’s more to come. Do read and enjoy!
I Shall Compare Thee [With Archaisms]
I compare thee to a mirror’s edge. Thou art cunning, as thou art cutting. Thou art longing to distort my image. When rough is what is in thee, Ah! The pain I cannot long contain. When thou art smooth and beguiling, Glistening in the moon light, my soul, My soul shall take heed of thine reflection And fly from thy deceptive presence. I shall compare thee to a still water’s...
The Vacant House
Old ageless, stone shack Upon the earth’s green back, What have you seen today, That did not pass by yesterday? A century gone, another come, And memories still call you home. What happened, once upon a time Within your warm and homely clime? What new thing have you seen today, That has never, ever come this way Read more from http://williamsaintgeorge.blogspot.com/
My tumblog is sad. I wish I had stats. Seriously, feedback is everything!
The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.” - Oscar WIlde.
My love affaire with fantasy
‘T was with fantasy writing, long ago, When longed I much for journeys so, Encountering mystery, and charming dames, Dragons and Knights when to life they came. But no! ‘T was not to be, My hopes were dashed, leaving a hapless me, To wallow in drifts of murky dreams And pale, deathly cries and screams, Till I saw, what never had once before Approached my mind...
‘T was brillig, and the slithy toves Did gyre and gimble in the wabe
On The Passing Of Melancholy
Wasteful longings longed f’r a better shade Beneath which mirth shall aid to ply my trade, And dreams would leap, abundant joy appear. What wishful wastings ever all but near. In the tradition steeped and well matured, Comes a refreshing taste of virtue ever pure, No poet must astray the chains that bind his way, For fools alone stand to contest the break of day. Melancholies, ah!...
LIFE. Those four letters are more than they can ever be.
It is a virtue, rare indeed, and nothing can replace its creed
And then I slept
Ok. Sorry Finland. Maybe I was tired. I got to the part of the epic where Wainomoinen was being attacked by his rival from Lapland (Can’t spell his name off hand) when I fell asleep. I woke nearly an hour later to realize it. It’s that funny thing with sleep, when you only know the truth well after it has happened. Another philosophical way to look at it may be this: that sleep is...
Hello There. Today I continue with my peering into the Kalevala. It is not going to be a snooze fest (Sorry Milton).
How fast the day runs into night, Now far my hopes flee in fright.
Hello World. Reading long poems has never been my thing. Till this afternoon. At first I dreaded it, after downloading a plain text version of the Kalevala (I’m data charged so I’m restricted to low size downloads. Poor me.) Well I started with the poem and somehow - somehow it got on with me. The musicality of the meter is splendid, and does justice to an otherwise absurd story. But...
Thrice pronounced, in accents dread The thrilling verse that wakes...