The Shadow Of God

“Beauty… is the shadow of God
on the universe.” - Gabriela
Mistral.
The meaning of ‘beautiful’ has
become dull and common place
when in fact the word ’s original
implication indicates that the
person stands out among others.
The touch of mysterious allure
possessed by certain sights gives
me this joie de vivre of being
fortunate to have the shadow of
God casted upon me. I can’t help
but admire one of God’s
masterpieces. A Mona Lisa
bringing out the full grandeur of
God ’s creation. There is this one
whose marvel I simply can’t find a
repository for in my mind. Her
image seems to evaporate each
time I try to make out her face in
my mind ’s eye. Perhaps I haven’t
had my fill of watching her yet.
Immaculately designed, precisely
engineered, finished to perfection
and full in the right places. She
has these eyes … these shiny
innocent eyes that would keep
you under the spell of savouring
that moment of holding your
gaze. Eyes that seem to peer into
the heart ’s abyss- the heart of
hearts. Eyes that could keep a
basilisk dazed forever. Eyes that
seem to say “if you think my eyes
are beautiful, it’s because they are
looking at you”. And that coy
smile of polite geniality which
seems to melt the very heart for
my existence. I get close enough,
ostensibly to help her in solving a
math problem (well of course she
does need my help) but in actual
fact to get a whiff of her ethereal
beauty- to bask in her ambience. I
try as much as possible not to be
transfixed by the cleavage of
those B-cups (boy keeping my
eyes off those is like denying
myself one of nature’s rare
spectacles). I burn hundreds of
calories to keep my eyes focused
onto the page, trying to give her
face a miss. I give in too soon and
stealthily raise my eyes to look at
the lips. Gosh! What I saw blew
me away. I was like… like… Gone
With the Wind! They were the
cutest lips I ’ve ever seen.
Succulent well defined Cupid’s
bow… boy kissing those lips
would feel like falling into a drum
of honey. My eyes were firmly
fixed to it like glue. The sight
whetted my appetite but had to
restrain myself from wetting my
lips as I was under radar.
Someone else might be watching.
I withdraw my eyes quickly onto
the page as I wouldn ’t want her
lifting her eyes to catch me ogling
her lips. Now can ’t catch her
staring cos she’s supposed to.
Can’t because I’m supposed to
look her and everyone else in the
eye. Boy how I wish it was a
different setting. Can ’t tell if seeds
of affection have sprouted in my
heart or if it ’s infatuation (which I
hope it’s not the latter).
Senses cannot grasp this marvel
that makes me want to gorge
myself with every part of her.
Perhaps something else …
something different… something
to serve as compensation…
something beyond the senses…
Hush! Hush! This should be on the
QT. wouldn ’t want the rumour mill
turning about this enchanting
marvel that I ’m developing a soft
spot for- the shadow of God.

Xa xa xa yyiii!!!

Xa pronounced "ha". Words containing the letter 'x' can be quite difficult to pronounce. I remember, when i was young, skipping the name Xerxes (pronounced zúrk seez/ zek ziz) in the history books cos i didn't know how to pronounce it. I just say to myself, "abi ino be king Darius in son who later became king?" Anyway 'Xa' is no English word but an Ewe one (pronounced ha).
You might have (you should have) met a teacher at school who "get mouth", tells lies (usually in our opinion) and you try as much as possible not to laugh at him by keeping your mouth tightly shut. You 'release' it in bits, chuckling  and further fortify your mouth by covering it with your palm. Well here's how one Geography class found an ingenious way of laughing at their teacher, who hitherto, had been consigned to living in a state of oblivion about it.
You see, the Geography master's name is Mr Xaxayi (pronounced 'ha-ha-yi). The pronunciation is synonymous to the sound produced when laughing, ha ha ha. Whenever something funny comes up during Geography lesson, whether from Mr Xaxayi or anybody else, the whole class explodes, "Xa Xa Xa yyiii!!! (ha ha ha yyiii!). The big guys at the back make it much more amusing with their thundering voices, laughing like a drain.
The '09 Geography class has sparked a new tradition which will burn on so long as Mr Xaxayi remains a teacher on that campus (even the juniors know about it). Even if he tries to stamp it out students, obstinate as they (we) are, will continue to stoke the fire.
Xa xa xa yyiii!!!
'get mouth'- too known

Guys… this shouldn’t happen to you!

As his eyes sweep the crammed auditorium, they trip over a sight which keeps them transfixed. His mouth opens involuntarily obviously awestruck.

The auditorium is full to the brim, almost bursting at its seams. She scans the hall. It’s hopeless. No empty seats. She must find one before the movie trailers start rolling when the lights go out. Then she spots one. One near a guy in sea blue top staring at her intently.

Busted! He turns towards the big screen praying she approaches him. Adrenalin sets his pulse racing filling his heart with a new found feeling. His eyes are focused onto the screen staring at him as he braces himself.

A sweet voice floats to his ear. One his ears never heard of.

‘Excuse me, has this seat been taken?’

‘No… Lucky you. This movie has made a lot of hype. No wonder the hall’s full.’

‘Yeah!…’ [conversation continues]

They were cut for each other he concludes. He feels different. He makes out her face in his mind’s eye as he gazes at the ceiling. ‘Damn!’ He slaps his forehead. He punches the pillow. He feels like crucifying himself.

He forgot to take her number!

]=[::::::::]---

  Were u able to decipher that? It's not one of those read-between-the-lines-stuff. Neither is it hieroglyphics nor Adinkra. You should be able to make that out.
Whenever his facial muscles quickly paint that mischievous grin, mine reply with a grimace; like clockwork. The grin? The harbinger of that etched pain about to be awoken. My fears are confirmed when he asks me to visit that 'space'. Sometimes i wonder if they take delight in sending people to that room.

 I look on the card and...Jeez!!! Three!!! One here, one there and the last one... left to her (usually it's a her) discretion (how i go mana walk????*&%#@). What i for do? Just grin and bear says the ceiling.
In the queue, mostly children with their mums; two boys, a girl, a baby, a man, a woman and the just arrived me. The first boy's buried his face into the mum's bosom, seeking refuge (he's the next you see). The mum tells him to stop crying and draw inspiration from the boy next to him, who is wearing this "kpemi" face of Arnold Schwazenegger (boy, i miss him *sigh*) from the Terminator movie series. I bet he has a bet with his friends back home that he wasn't going to cry. The girl's nibbling at this big brofot (now when i say one big brofot, i mean one B.I.G one) and constantly pushing back phlegm. There are dried streaks of meandered streams on her face. The baby looks on unconcerned, oblivious of what was going on. Ignorance is bliss u know. We'll soon see if she wouldn't open that small mouth of hers, displaying the only the only tooth for the world to see.
The children's fears are being compounded by the screams from within. I could hear their hearts thump, gradually becoming music. My levity's good huh?

 The crying boy comes out crying, the Schwazenegger boy comes out with the same face as before, but walking as if his two legs were tied with a short string ( he's trying to suppress the pain you know. Remember when your teacher beat you on the butt and you try supressing the pain? Umm hmmmm). The brofot girl comes out hardly able to walk but still clutched onto her dear brofot. And the baby? Like I said earlier.
Now it's my turn! I enter and meet this 'Coca-Cola faced' woman with an angry look as if she was Atlas tired of his job. This woman no go break that thing for my body inside? I wonder were all the fine looking ones have gone to (at least to 'reduce' the pain). Mchtweeew!!! I lower my @*&^$@^^@ ^!$%@& (dont ask me. i typed the thing but it refused to appear) and position my self and wait for it...wait for it... wait for it... AHHH!!! She's there Facebooking!!!!
 By the way that's a syringe- the title i mean. :)

Kolo 9t!!

Hmmm don’t even know how to start. The night was soo much fun. All halls on campus celebrate hall week every year. Hall week is a special activity packed week set aside for affiliates. There are various activities like beauty pageants, exhibitions, ‘kolo’ night, old skuul, red carpet programmes etc. They are weeks to remember. ‘Kolo’ night is a programme where affiliates dress like our fathers and grandfathers did during the colonial era. The word ‘kolo’ is coined from ‘colonial’. I have chronicled my first hall week in Independence hall of the Kwame Nkrumah University of Science and Technology. Wouldn’t want this/that moment blown to the back of beyond, do we? Hope u like the pics lol. Welcome to KOLO NIGHT!!

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Thorns At Sunset.

Thorns At Sunset.

Still. The aura of bright red heralds the perfunctory grief. As darkness steals across the sky, the stalks sway in reverence. There he goes. Sinking. His countenance tells it all- worn-out. No one can tell where he goes. No one has ever been there- the other end of the world, in the horizon.  Some say he’s a tramp, homeless. Others say he’s a wanderer.
The birds come back from their explorations. They call onto the others to come witness the spectacle. A spectacle they behold in awe.  A feast for the eyes.  A beaut, these moments. Others fly across in the foreground, either to bask in his ambience or coming back from their exploits. They wail. The trees whisper silently. The wind treads cautiously.  Everyone takes on a tinge of red. The atmosphere is shrouded in solemnity. The air reeks of the Grim Reaper.
The thorns look on-bemused.
Slowly, he dies out…like the candle light starved of nourishment.

Photo Credit: Nana Kofi Acquah
Tittle borrowed from caption of photo on Nana Kofi's blog post.

Words Are Beautiful!

“Never lose an opportunity of seeing anything that is beautiful; for beauty is God’s handwriting-a wayside sacrament. Welcome it in every fair face, in every fair sky, in every fair flower, and thank God for it as a cup of blessing.” – Ralph Waldo Emerson.

I love art! To me, beauty defines art- art is beauty. Art gives a totally different meaning to life-beauty. Beauty is a timeless experience of pleasure and satisfaction. According to Oscar Wilde, “Beauty is the only thing that time cannot harm.” Do you realize that feeling that, like the thief at night, sneaks in without you noticing? You teleport into a trance where you are draped in awe. You are stunned and wonder how the elements come together to form such a marvel. That is appreciation. You’ve fallen in love. You try to gorge yourself with every part of it.

For me, art is not only manifested in sculpture, painting, architecture (my future), photography (my rekindled love), music, drama, and the new media (video, film and digital art). It expresses itself in language vis-à-vis writing. The beauty from the way words are stringed to paint a picture fascinates me. The landscape painter uses his brush strokes to convey meaning to the landscape he is reproducing or producing. However the writer uses his dexterity at the use and play of words to paint quite a fascinating picture of that same landscape perhaps relaying much more vivid detail than the painter by describing the blade of grass and the way it sways in reverence to the comforting breeze. In a nutshell, words are beautiful.

Now that’s my style of writing (wait till you read my next post! *excited!!!*). I just love to play with words (pun intended, lol). The beauty words can convey is… fulfilling…gratifying…indulging…ecstatic… passionate…overwhelming…unfathomable…bottomless…beautiful!