Heard your brilliancy supplants the golden daffodils,
But transient you are, that is the general folktales,
Thy roots are immanent in the history of betrayal,
The canopy that disarms the servant so loyal,
That tempestuous storm that swindles the door,
Injured onlookers saw the bad spectacle on the floor.
Has a flagrance that reeks,
The membranophone I drum at a premonition of risks,
Yet thou think me mad for that uproar,
Topsy-turvy has my world be, before the emperor,
Can a down trodden vie with the blue blooded family?
My tattered limbs, you my secret admirer love immensely.
Your victims bought to safeguard their hearts,
The alien currency could not secure them manifold of realities,
Treacherous beauty, yet it has that je ne sais quoi to elicit admiration.
Broken hearts, the angel that dillydallies and torments humans’
She retorted; “are they so dunce to know I am the Mayflower?”
Their hearts should hate the mortal goddess of beauty, Helen’s shower.
Why have the souls of men swollen and rolled in retrogression?
Could a slave serve an empress uprightly base on their own introspection?
The nostalgia collides in my deepest fibric memory, abject confusion,
The medallion, that which was bolted away in commotion,
New eve of that metallic clinking announces; “Justice flows from heaven.”
Fortitude! The healed wounds but the ugly scars would invisibly be seen.
The writer David Etornam Gbetey, writing as D.E.G., is a prolific writer of romantic poetry and drama. He is currently reading BA (Hons) degree in classical philosophy and psychology at the University of Ghana, Legon. My philosophy is that; “Once you can picture it in mind, you can equally achieve it.”