By Abeiku Arhin Tsiwah

You always ask, why is life
An olden photograph
that evolves with time and gives away
her innocence to sultry, to little things of colour
when life itself is a cosmic writer of poetry
denied of ethereal exploits in space.

Blue flames are hard to light in the heart
so is an unattractive thigh difficult to please
the eyes that sleep with the morning sun.
And life itself is a dwindling tear of a dead child
staged by coups de’ tat and mobbed by silences.
The soul faces time with a piece of hook
like a fisher-boy seducing a mighty ocean.

You know how to survive a rapturous sin
like apparitions do to living bodies who
Prevent them from returning to their beloved.
But if bread is life for survivors in turned memoirs
then is smoke for believers
Who swim the present to childhood
to learn lessons forming
Skeletons of their new age

Abeiku Arhin Tsiwah performs poetry with The Village Thinkers, Ghana and serves as the poetry editor for Lunaris Review, Nigeria. Tsiwah, an international award winning poet and author of Afro-conscious heritage writes from his fatherland – Cape Coast, Ghana.


  1. I could see a lot of skeletons of the new age in the poem, which metaphorically denote the failing effort of man to overcome rapturous sin, where bread becomes life for survivors and smoke for the believers..An alluringly intriguing poem written by Abeiku Arhin Tsiwah.



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