In my childhood, I have always

believed that everyone is different,

and it is our differences that

makes us significance

I like literature,

characters,

life is filled with people,

characters,

I like to explore

their surroundings and what

influences their behaviour,

literature is not just studies,

it is life,

that is why I try to understand

everyone,

because we're all walking stories

Every day we write a chapter

of our lives by

living it,

Well, I've been mistaken

in most cases in the sense

very few people think,

that I think I'm better than everyone,

that is a capital NO

Like I said,

it is our differences that makes us significant,

so if you can magnify your differences,

you highlight your uniqueness,

everyone has been given gift,

the ability to do what we want to do,

is in every human being,

so every human being

can do it,

all you have to do,

is be confident with doing what you do

that's all

For me,

I believe that even if my father

told me to stop writing,

I would strong disobey

because literature is within my personality,

and nobody is going

to stop me from writing,

I can't imagine a life without it

It is the way I reveal my imagination,

recently, it is the way I tell truth,

I think I'm like everyone else,

who has the power to do

anything they want to do

I listen to people,

so I can hear their stories,

analyze their cases

and try to understand,

this is who I am,

this is De-graft Afful Jr.

                                       By Kakraba Afful

And moving with

a homeostatic trouble,

I found myself,

silently being bullied by

the cold, my breathe congealing,

even screaming

as all the life in it

had been beaten

and punched with discomfort

walking like cowardice,

my confidence had been

overthrown, at least for a while,

then I saw the road that led

towards home,

and the chilly made it long,

and my long for warmth

made it lengthy,

so I thought,

my face silently rebelled the cold,

but deep within I could

feel my loins freezing

she was not there to hold my hands,

and kissed them to warmth,

leaving no consolation,

they froze and the floating iciness

chased them even in my pockets

then I gathered brave

from the mysticity of persistence

and began to walk briskly

then the warmth came

and hugged me tight,

at least a little warmth

But my body was content,

because the sun was not

such a good solicitor

in this case.

                     By Kakraba Afful

I pressed the emotional accerelator,

then use my determination clutch

to change the gear to persistence,

I am not ready to lose this war

of ideas, as my imagination begins

to run cold,

but I spice is up with

the fortitude of thought,

and try as much as possible

to flee from the Kristelnacht of repetition

Well it is not easy,

as writer's block seems to

be looming in with muscular ease,

but my mind spits ideas,

feeds me with pictures,

inhales philosophies

I continue writing with

the ink of literary eloquence,

my hands, bull-headed with a fluence,

emptiness try to visit

but I shut the doors of my neurones,

I'm writing with a bottomless pen

because the brain

is an eternal citadel of creation

I shall defeat writer's block

and win this war!

                                             By Kakraba Afful

I know this is a cumbersome

way to describe untidyness

but,

these clothes loitering about

with the howl of infamous popularity

are bugging me

Shoes that kick my conscience,

socks flying away,

growling as they've been

mistreated by the dirt,

well my feet enjoyed their service,

so my laziness cares less

in negligence

The beauty of my bedsheet,

imprisoned by wreckless wrinkles,

wrinkles of an eighty year-old lady,

surely, carelessness has made

it old, before time

well the laundry basket

sit there, dejected,

because it feels so sorry

that we're enemies

The washing machine

just shakes it head,

wondering how it will puke,

when my dirty clothes

come for a sanitry visit!

                                           By Kakraba Afful