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Lyric

De Cunjah Man

James Edwin Campbell

O children, run, the Cunjah Man,
Him mouth as big as frying-pan,
Him ears am small, him eyes am red,
Him have no tooth in him old head,
Him have

Yaa, the Adowa dancer

L. M. Asiedu

The tune of Adowa
Drives Yaa to frenzy,
Her legs alternate–
they close,
they cross,
they open,
they part.
Oh, what a dancer,
The dancer of Adowa.
Her trunk goes–<br

In the Small Hours

Wole Soyinka

Blue diaphane, tobacco smoke
Serpentine on wet film and wood glaze,
Mutes chrome, wreathes velvet drapes,
Dims the cave of mirrors. Ghost fingers
Comb seaweed hair, stroke acquamarine veins
Of

Life in a Jar

Vikas Nagori

Away from the bustling life.
A joy grows in a jar.

Chaos mind, disturbed life.
Hope grows in a Jar.

Many big ideas, big dreams insight.
A dream grows in a Jar.

Where

Negro Lullaby

James Edwin Campbell

Mammy’s baby, go ter sleep,
Hush-er-by, hush-er-by, my honey;
Cross de hyarf de cricket creep,
Hush-er-by, hush-er-by, my honey.
Hoot owl callin’ f’um de ol’ sycamo’
‘Way down yon’er in

A Song

James Edwin Campbell

Heigho for a glass, heigho for a lass,
A drink and a kiss, I leave you;
Heigho for a friend that sticks till the end —
Good-bye, my lass, don’t

It’s Ok to Cry

Vikas Nagori

It’s ok to CRY.
It means you gave it a try.

A heavy heart filled with stress
Perfectly alright if you are in a mess.

Hug and squeeze your pillow tight
Brood

Kambili Battles Cekura

Seydou Camara

Born for a reason and learning are not the same.
Putting tradition aside for one day’s pain is not good.
Hot pepper of the Game!

The brave sat down and thought.<br

The Legend of Liyongo

Muhammad Kijuma and Jan Knappert

I

Oh my child, be silent, do not cry;
Listen to the tale of the King of Bauri,
Listen to the tale of the exiled King
Who was cheated of election

The Story of Miqdad and Mayasa

Dr Alice Werner

I begin with the name of the Compassionate,
and pray for the faithful one,
that I may set forth the story of that which happened long ago.

One day, Muhammad, the

Riddles

Anonymous

The black one is squatting-the red one is licking
his bottom.
(Cooking-pot and fire)

Two tiny birds jump over two hundred trees.
(Eyes)

The mourner has stopped weeping.
The pitying friend is

Dilemma of a ghost

Ama Ata Aidoo

One early morning,
When the moon was up
Shining at the sun,
I went to Elmina Junction
And there, and there
I saw a wretched ghost
Going up and down

Singing

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