Here Is Another One For Lovers

A Special World

A special world for you and me 
A special bond one cannot see             
It wraps us up in its cocoon
And holds us fiercely in its womb.

Its fingers spread like fine spun gold
Gently nestling us to the fold
Like silken thread it holds us fast 

Bonds like this are meant to last.

And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.

- Sheelagh Lennon -
This poem is about two people who are in love. The love they share makes them feel like they are in a different world that just the two of them can live in and enjoy. The lovers, although happy, are not immune to the problems that relationships encounters, but they always kiss and make up, hence, 
'''And though at times a thread may break
A new one forms in its wake
To bind us closer and keep us strong
In a special world, where we belong.''
please do share your thoughts with me on what you  think of the poem.

To His Coy Mistress

Andrew Marvell

Had we but world enough, and time,
This coyness, Lady, were no crime.
We would sit down and think which way
To walk and pass our long love’s day.
Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side
Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide
Of Humber would complain. I would
Love you ten years before the Flood,
And you should, if you please, refuse
Till the conversion of the Jews.
My vegetable love should grow
Vaster than empires, and more slow;
An hundred years should go to praise
Thine eyes and on thy forehead gaze;
Two hundred to adore each breast;
But thirty thousand to the rest;
An age at least to every part,
And the last age should show your heart;
For, Lady, you deserve this state,
Nor would I love at lower rate.
   But at my back I always hear
Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near;
And yonder all before us lie
Deserts of vast eternity.
Thy beauty shall no more be found,
Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound
My echoing song: then worms shall try
That long preserved virginity,
And your quaint honour turn to dust,
And into ashes all my lust:
The grave’s a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
   Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.

Andrew Marvell  (1621–1678)

Born on March 31, 1621, Marvell grew up in the Yorkshire town of Hull, England, where his father, Rev. Andrew Marvell, was a lecturer at Holy Trinity Church and master of the Charterhouse. At age twelve... read more

Sir Henry Curtis

I have a brother named Henry, but there is this old man that always calls him, Sir Henry Curtis. Often time I have wondered why he calls him that and where he even got the name from. However, my curiosity was satisfied after I read the novel - King Solomon's Mines by H. Rider Haggard. Please read the summary below.    

Summary

Allan Quatermain, an adventurer and white hunter based in Durban, in what is now South Africa, is approached by aristocrat Sir Henry Curtis and his friend Captain Good, seeking his help finding Sir Henry's brother, who was last seen travelling North into the unexplored interior on a quest for the fabled King Solomon's Mines. Quatermain has a mysterious map purporting to lead to the mines, but had never taken it seriously. However, he agrees to lead an expedition in return for a share of the treasure, or a stipend for his son if he is killed along the way. He has little hope they will return alive, but reasons that he has already outlived most people in his profession, so dying in this manner at least ensures that his son will be provided for. They also take along a mysterious native, Umbopa, who seems more regal, handsome and well-spoken than most porters of his class, but who is very anxious to join the party.

Travelling by oxcart, they reach the edge of a desert, but not before a hunt in which a wounded elephant claims the life of a servant. They continue on foot across the desert, almost dying of thirst before finding the oasis shown halfway across on the map. Reaching a mountain range called Suliman Berg, they climb a peak (one of "Sheba's Breasts") and enter a cave where they find the frozen corpse of José Silvestre (also spelt Silvestra), the 16th-century Portuguese explorer who drew the map in his own blood. That night, a second servant dies from the cold, so they leave his body next to Silvestra's, to "give him a companion". They cross the mountains into a raised valley, lush and green, known as Kukuanaland. The inhabitants have a well organised army and society and speak an ancient dialect of IsiZulu. Kukuanaland's capital is Loo, the destination of a magnificent road from ancient times. The city is dominated by a central royal kraal.

They soon meet a party of Kukuana warriors who are about to kill them when Captain Good nervously fidgets with his false teeth, making the Kukuanas recoil in fear. Thereafter, to protect themselves, they style themselves "white men from the stars"—sorcerer-gods—and are required to give regular proof of their divinity, considerably straining both their nerves and their ingenuity.

They are brought before King Twala, who rules over his people with ruthless violence. He came to power years before when he murdered his brother, the previous king, and drove his brother's wife and infant son, Ignosi, out into the desert to die. Twala's rule is unchallenged. An evil, impossibly ancient hag named Gagool is his chief advisor. She roots out any potential opposition by ordering regular witch hunts and murdering without trial all those identified as traitors. When she singles out Umbopa for this fate, it takes all Quatermain's skill to save his life.

Gagool, it appears, has already sensed what Umbopa soon after reveals: he is Ignosi, the rightful king of the Kukuanas. A rebellion breaks out, the Englishmen gaining support for Ignosi by taking advantage of their foreknowledge of a lunar eclipse to claim that they will black out the moon as proof of Ignosi's claim. The Englishmen join Ignosi's army in a furious battle. Although outnumbered, the rebels overthrow Twala, and Sir Henry lops off his head in a duel.

The Englishmen also capture Gagool, who reluctantly leads them to King Solomon's Mines. She shows them a treasure room inside a mountain, carved deep within the living rock and full of gold, diamonds and ivory. She then treacherously sneaks out while they are admiring the hoard and triggers a secret mechanism that closes the mine's vast stone door. Unfortunately for Gagool, a brief scuffle with a beautiful native named Foulata—who had become attached to Good after nursing him through his injuries sustained in the battle—causes her to be crushed under the stone door, though not before fatally stabbing Foulata. Their scant store of food and water rapidly dwindling, the trapped men prepare to die also. After a few despairing days sealed in the dark chamber, they find an escape route, bringing with them a few pocketfuls of diamonds from the immense trove, enough to make them rich.

The Englishmen bid farewell to a sorrowful Ignosi and return to the desert, assuring him that they value his friendship but must return to be with their own people, Ignosi in return promising them that they will be venerated and honoured among his people forever. Taking a different route, they find Sir Henry's brother stranded in an oasis by a broken leg, unable to go forward or back. They return to Durban and eventually to England, wealthy enough to live comfortable lives.

This novel was published in September 1885. 

When i finished the book, it dawned on me that the old man got the name, Sir Henry Curtis from the story. And I believe King Solomon's Mines was used during his secondary school days. That is really a long time ago.

Telephone Conversation

    Telephone Conversation by
                Wole Soyinka 

            The price seemed reasonable, location 

            Indifferent. The landlady swore she lived 

            Off premises. Nothing remained 

            But self-confession. “Madam,” I warned, 

5      “I hate a wasted journey—I am African.” 

            Silence. Silenced transmission of            

           Pressurized good-breeding. Voice, when it came, 

            Lipstick coated, long gold-rolled 

            Cigarette-holder pipped. Caught I was, foully. 

         “HOW DARK?” . . . I had not misheard . . . “ARE YOU LIGHT 

            OR VERY DARK?” Button B. Button A. Stench 

            Of rancid breath of public hide-and-speak. 

            Red booth. Red pillar-box. Red double-tiered 

            Omnibus squelching tar. It was real! Shamed 

15         By ill-mannered silence, surrender 

            Pushed dumbfoundment to beg simplification. 

            Considerate she was, varying the emphasis— 

            “ARE YOU DARK? OR VERY LIGHT?” Revelation came. 

            “You mean—like plain or milk chocolate?” 

20         Her assent was clinical, crushing in its light 

            Impersonality. Rapidly, wavelength adjusted, 

            I chose. “West African sepia”—and as an afterthought, 

            “Down in my passport.” Silence for spectroscopic 

            Flight of fancy, till truthfulness clanged her accent 

25         Hard on the mouthpiece. “WHAT’S THAT?” conceding, 

            “DON’T KNOW WHAT THAT IS.” “Like brunette.” 

            “THAT’S DARK, ISN’T IT?” “Not altogether. 

            Facially, I am brunette, but madam, you should see 

            The rest of me. Palm of my hand, soles of my feet 

30         Are a peroxide blonde. Friction, caused— 

            Foolishly, madam—by sitting down, has turned 

            My bottom raven black—One moment madam!”—sensing 

            Her receiver rearing on the thunderclap 

            About my ears—“Madam,” I pleaded, “wouldn’t you rather 

35         See for yourself?”

Analysis

Written in first person narrative, summary of Telephone conversation by Wole Soyinka draws upon an unseen picture of humanity where it projects the innate difference that resides between individuals. Depicted through the conversation of a white lady and an African man, the poem is a mighty comment on racism coupled with prejudices that still exist like a millstone. The idea of Telephone conversation is how human beings are inclined to focus and sort out issues that are based on individual differences which seldom give us a chance to look into our souls and determine where and how far we have deteriorated within us.

Abiku - Again?

I know you guys might be wondering, why Abiku again? Your last post was Abiku and now another Abiku? Eh! Just relax, I can explain. Well you see, there are two poems with the tittle, Abiku. One was written by Wole Soyinka and the other one by John Pepper Clark. Although the two poems may have the same title and themes, however, if we study with concentrated attention and careful juxtaposition, we will understand the striking features that differentiates them. Below is J.P. Clark's Abiku.

John Pepper Clark

Abiku (J.P. Clark)

Coming and going these several season,
Do stay on the baobab tree,
Follow where you please your kindred spirits
If indoors is not enough for you.
True, it leaks through the thatch 
When flood brim the banks,
And the bats and the owls
Often tear in at night through the eaves,
And at harmattan, the bamboo walls
Are ready tinder for the fire 
That dries the fresh fish up in the rack.
Still, it's been the healthy stock
To several fingers, to many more will be 
Who reach to the sun.
No longer then bestride the threshold
But step in and stay 
For good. We know the knife-scars
Serrating down your back and front 
Like the beak of the swordfish.
And both your ears,notched
As a bondsman to his house,
Are all relics of your first comings
Then step in,step in and stay
For her body is tired,
Tired, her milk going sour 
Where many more mouth gladden the heart.

Note: Some Africans believe that Abiku is an evil child that torment the parents with 

perpetual birth and death,and it always rejoices at the effectual outcome of the anguish.

Analysis

If we read through the two poems aloud, we will understand the differences in the tone and the attitude of the poems. While they share the same themes like the torments of Abiku and the bitter experience to the parents, the first poem (Soyinka's) is presented in the First Person, the abiku, making statements about itself. While Pepper Clark presented his as an observer. Soyinka's Abiku is boastful and happy to see the anguish of its parents, while Clark's is a plea to the child to stay. The subjects and the tones, apart from the title and parallel themes, are obviously different.

Abiku

Abiku - written by Wole Soyinka In vain your bangles cast Charmed circles at my feet I am Abiku, calling for the first And repeated time. Must I weep for goats and cowries For palm oil and sprinkled ask? Yams do not sprout amulets To earth Abiku's limbs. So when the snail is burnt in his shell, Whet the heated fragment, brand me Deeply on the breast - you must know him When Abiku calls again. I am the squirrel teeth, cracked The riddle of the palm; remember This, and dig me deeper still into The god's swollen foot. Once and the repeated time, ageless Though I puke, and when you pour Libations, each finger points me near The way I came, where The ground is wet with mourning White dew suckles flesh-birds Evening befriends the spider, trapping Flies in wine-froth; Night, and Abiku sucks the oil From lamps. Mothers! I'll be the Suppliant snake coiled on the doorstep Yours the killing cry. The ripest fruit was saddest Where I crept, the warmth was cloying. In silence of webs, Abiku moans, shaping Mounds from the yolk.  Analysis In the poem Abiku, the poet personifies Abiku as himself, the spiritual problem child who would always come back to torment his mother, the Nigerian government. Soyinka in that poem made it clear that he would always be around to criticize the Nigerian government and since Abiku he has been around to voice out his opinion on national issues, to engage those who want to ruin the country in war of words and much more.

The Trials of Brother Jero

Wole Soyinka 

The Trials of Brother Jero, a play, was written by Wole  Soyinka. 

Summary
Brother Jero is a self-styled 'prophet,' an evangelical con man who ministers to the gullible and struts with self-importance over their dependence on him. The play follows him through a typical day: He acts as kind of tourist guide, displaying himself to the audience, explaining, demonstrating how he manages to live by his wits. He is pursued and cursed by his aged mentor, whose territory he has taken over. His ultimate ambition is to be called the Velvet-hearted Jeroboam, Immaculate Jero, and Articulate Hero of Christ’s Crusade. He is besieged by a woman creditor who turns out to be the tyrannical wife of his chief disciple. He converts a pompous, painfully timid Member of Parliament with prophecies of a ministerial post. And all day he tries to resist the endless temptation of beautiful women, the play is delightfully picturesque and entertaining. It is very relevant to the contemporary socio-political and religious situation in Nigeria. 

I really enjoyed reading the play. The part i liked most was that of Amope. She is the wife of Chume, an assistant of prophet Jero. From her dialogue with her husband, a fish seller and the prophet, we deduced that Amope is a troublesome and warlike woman. But even in her abusive tone, Soyinka still manage to make the reader laugh. Below is part of the dialogue she had with Chume after he was forced to carry her on his bicycle with all the belongings she will need to stay in front of the debtor’s house for one full week. These items include even a mat and a kitchen stool, both of which are tied around the same bike. The total picture, clearly exaggerated by Soyinka, provokes laughter and serves as comic relief to the distressing information about Prophet Jero and the church.

AMOPE: Just leave the bag here. I can use it for a
pillow.
CHUME: Is there anything else before I go?
AMOPE: I know it’s not much, but I would like
something to sleep on. There are women who sleep
in beds of course, but I am not complaining …. They
are just lucky with their husbands, and we can’t all
be lucky, I suppose.
CHUME: You’ve got a bed at home.
He unties the mat which is wound round the crossbar.
AMOPE: And so I am to leave my work undone. My
trade is to suffer because I have a bed at home?
Thank God I am not the kind of woman who…
CHUME: I am nearly late for work.
AMOPE: I know you can’t wait to get away. You
only use your work as an excuse. A Chief
Messenger in the Local Government Office – do you
call that work? Your old school friends are now
Ministers, riding in long cars…
Chume gets on his bike and flees. Amope shouts
after him craning her neck in his direction.
AMOPE: … He doesn’t realize it is all for his own
good. He’s no worse than other men, but he won’t
make the effort to become something in life. A Chief
Messenger. Am I to go into my grave as the wife of

a Chief Messenger?
             ends

How hilarious!

If you have read the play, please give your review through the comment section.

You can't help but share this with the one you love

 A Love Poem

This morning i woke up feeling quite giddy and sanguine, why, i can't say for sure. Perhaps it is as a result of this love poem i read last night. Permit me to share the feeling with you this beautiful morning, with the poem. Enjoy!

An Entrapment
My love, I have tried with all my being
to grasp a form comparable to thine own,
but nothing seems worthy;

I know now why Shakespeare could not
compare his love to a summer’s day.
It would be a crime to denounce the beauty
of such a creature as thee,
to simply cast away the precision
God had placed in forging you.

Each facet of your being
whether it physical or spiritual
is an ensnarement
from which there is no release.
But I do not wish release.
I wish to stay entrapped forever.
With you for all eternity.
Our hearts, always as one.

- Anthony Kolos -

Things Fall Apart

Chinua Achebe (1930 - 2013)

  Things Fall Apart is a novel written by Chinua Achebe. I have read the story several times and believe me when i say it was worth it. I thought i should share it with you, so, enjoy!

Summary

The novel follows the life of a Nigerian man, Okonkwo. Okonkwo lives in a group of nine villages. The villages are ruled by a counsel of elders. Okonkwo is one of the respected leaders of his village. He is also a wrestling champion. Both his wrestling and his leadership role are driven by his shame about his father, who left a lot of debts unpaid when he died, and who Okonkwo viewed as too feminine.

When a man from a neighboring village kills one of the women from Okonkwo's village, a peace settlement requires the son of the man who killed the woman to come live in Okonkwo's village. Okonkwo himself takes the boy in and they develop a strong bond.

Unfortunately, a decision is made to kill the boy. One of the village elders, Ezeudu, warns Okonkwo not to assist with killing the boy. Determined not to seem like a coward, especially because of his father's legacy, Okonkwo kills the boy himself with a machete. The boy's death is like a bad omen. After the boy dies, Okonkwo accidentally kills Ezeudu's son. For his crime, the village determines he must spend seven years in exile to appease the gods.

During his exile, white missionaries arrive in the village. When Okonkwo finally returns, the white men have thoroughly infiltrated his village. Okonkwo helps destroy a Christian church, only to be arrested by the white government.

Some of the villagers, including Okonkwo, want to stage an uprising against the village. He even kills one of the white men. After he does so, he realizes that the other villages have changed too much. They will not fight the white men off. Unable to live with his revelation, Okonkwo kills himself. This is a very important moment in the novel, because according to Okonkwo's traditional beliefs, suicide is not allowed. Okonkwo's desperation about his changing village is staggering if it can outweigh his strict adherence to the traditional ways.

At the end of the novel, a white commissioner, upon learning about Okonkwo's rebellion and suicide, notes that it will make an interesting paragraph in the book he is writing about 'The Pacification of the Primitive Tribes of the Lower Niger.'

One major theme of this story is 'The Destructive Effect of Colonization'.

Tell me what you think of the Hero, Okonkwo. 

A Traditional Poem

SALUTE TO THE ELEPHANT

O elephant, possessor of a savings-basket full of money 
O elephant, huge as a hill even in a crouching posture. 
O elephant, enfolded by honour; demon, flapping fans of war. 
Demon who snaps tree branches into many pieces and moves on 
  to the forest farm. 
O elephant who ignores, "I have fled to my father for refuge", 
let alone "to my mother". 
Mountainous animal, huge beast who tears a man like a garment 
and hangs him up on a tree.
The sight of whom causes people to stampede towards a hill of 
  safety. 
My chant is a Salute to the elephant.
Ajanaku who walks with a heavy tread.
Demon who swallows palm-fruit bunches whole, even with the 
  spiky pistil-cells.
O elephant, praisenamed Laaye, massive animal, blackish-grey in
  complexion.
O elephant, who single-handedly causes a tremor in a dense tropical 
  forest.
O elephant, who stands sturdy and alert, who walks slowly as if
  reluctantly.
O elephant, whom one sees and points towards with all one's
  fingers.
The hunter's boast at home is not repeated when he really meets
  the elephant.
The hunter's boast at home is not repeated before the elephant.
Ajanuku looks back with difficulty like a person suffering from a
  sprained neck.
The elephant has a porter's-knot without having any load on his
  head.
The elephant's head is his burden which he balances.
 O elephant, praisenamed Laaye, "O death, please stop following
  me"
This is part and parcel of the elephant's appellation.
If you wish to know the elephant, the elephant who is a veritable
  ferry-man.
The elephant whom honour matches, the elephant who continually
  swings his trunk,
His upper fly-switch.
It's the elephant whose eyes are veritable water-jars.
O elephant, the vagrant par excellence,
Whose molar teeth are as wide as palm-oil pits in Ijesaland.
O elephant, lord of the forest, respectfully called Oriiribobo
O elephant whose teeth are like shafts.
One tooth of his is a porter's load, O elephant, fondly called Otiko
Who has a beast-of-burden's proper neck.
O elephant, whom the hunter sometimes sees face to face.
O elephant, whom the hunter at other times sees from the rear.
Beast who carries mortars and yet walks with a swaggering gait.
Primeval leper, animal treading ponderously. 

The awesome beast

This poem is an Ijala (well known among the Yorubas) chant addressed to the elephant. It deals in a comprehensive way, with aspects of the animal stretching from its economic and physical properties, to its grand and destructive qualities, to people's reaction to it and admiration and the dread it inspires. Understandably, the emphasis is on the size of the animal and the amount of energy that is locked up in its frame. To bring out all these features, the poem uses hyperbole and a series of similes, as well as personification and euphemism.   

The grand finale of Dyesebel

DYSEBEL



Our popular television series, DYESEBEL, has finally ended. I will tell you guys how it ended.

Fredo got to the territory of Serenea and was unconscious when the former queen Dyangga found and revived him with magic with the aim of using the love Jezebel has for Fredo to take back the throne(she usurped from Lucia, Jezebel's mother). Jezebel outsmarted Dyangga by saving Fredo's life which she was using against her and also kept the kingdom of Serenea from the evil reign of Dyangga. Betty tried to kill Jezebel by stabbing her during the fight they had while Jezebel was taking Fredo to the surface. Unfortunately for Betty, Jezebel mistakenly held the necklace on her neck and it fell. Instantly Betty transformed back into her human form and drowned. After realizing that Jezebel had tricked her, Dyangga used magic to transform herself into a monster and went to the surface in search of her. she started killing humans and screaming that Jezebel be brought to her. There was pandemonium. Fredo brought Jezebel to the ocean and she killed Dyangga with the magical scepter. Her necklace was retrieved from the ocean with the help of Amafura. Jezebel and Fredo got married and lived happily ever after.

Ah! Interesting wouldn't you say? Well i accepted it that way too because it is a fiction.
In a real life sense, such love does not exist. Fredo after knowing that Jezebel is a mermaid still went after her to Serenea. Mind you, Serenea is not just any place. It is a kingdom of mermaids deep down the sea!

Fiction indeed.

But if you believe that love like that exist, then please tell us through the comment section.

Agbor Dancer

                          John Pepper Clark

Clark, also known as Johnson Pepper Clark Bekederemo, was born on April 6, 1935, in Kiagbodo, Nigeria. He is the son of Clark Fuludu Bekederemo, an Ijaw tribal leader, and his wife, Poro. Clark received his elementary education at three different primary schools in the 1940s. He went on to a government college, Ughelli, and earned his Cambridge School Certificate in 1954. He then got his Bachelor’s degree in English at the University of Ibadan.
While in school, Clark and a group of fellow students founded the Horn, a publication for which Clark served as editor and where he began to publish his poetry.  In 1960 Clark wrote his first dramatic work, Song of a Goat, which was staged in Ibadan the following year.( Read more here)

AGBOR DANCER
 by John Pepper Clark

See her caught in the throb of a drum

Tippling from hide-brimmed stem
Down lineal veins to ancestral core
Opening out in her supple tan

Limbs like fresh foliage in the sun

See how entangled in the magic

Maze of music
In trance she treads the intricate
Pattern rippling crest after crest
To meet the green clouds of the forest

Tremulous beats wake trenchant
In he heart a descant
Tingling quick to her finger tips
And toes virginal habits long
Too atrophied for pen or tongue

Could I, early sequester'd from my tribe
free a lead-tether'd scribe
I should answer her communual call
Lose myself in her warm caress
Intervolving earth, sky and flesh

  The dance symbolizes the poet’’s yearning to be identified with the root. The poet is fascinated with this aspect of his culture which engages the dancer in an act of cultural dance. The dancer contrasts sharply with the poet as the dance signifies her deep knowledge of and involvement in her culture and understanding of cultural music. The poet describes the dance as ‘magic maze’ with its ‘intricate pattern rippling crest after crest’ Early separation makes the poet to respond to the appeal or communal call OF this infectious music.  His frustration is shown at the end of the poem.

A Romance Novel

A COURTESAN'S SCANDAL by Julia London

Grayson Christopher, the Duke of Darlington, is not at all pleased when the Prince of Wales request that he escort Kate Bergeron around town. Kate is a courtesan that the Prince has "purchased" from her former protector, a cloth merchant, but he does not want his wife, whom he is trying to divorce, to find out about her. Disguising her as Grayson's mistress is the perfect solution as he knows that Grayson is far too upstanding and conscious of social standing to ever try anything. Grayson does not even try to disguise his dislike of this duty when he meets Kate and he is very startled, and very intrigued, when she calls him on it and turns the tables on him by claiming that she wants even less to do with him than he does with her. He escorts her to the various functions as the prince requests of him- all places where the prince will be so he can play with her in the linen closet. The Duke soon realized that there is so much more to Kate than he had first assumed. She regards life with an openness he has never observed before and she makes the most of everything, even forgiving all those who slight her.

When their time is officially up Grayson knows that he can not simply walk away from Kate but Kate knows that she cannot go back on her word to the Prince. But the man who first treated her as the dirt beneath his feet has suddenly become the first man she has ever felt desire for and she too wants to spend more time with him. As Grayson's family, and his former mistress, grow increasingly concerned, the two of them begin spending time together that has not been approved of by the prince, ice skating, going to museum and tea stores. The prince is not the only person who is enraged to find out that Grayson and Kate are growing very close. Grayson's ex-lover, who is married, is determined to get back at him for leaving her with her aging and barren husband. There is his family warning him that he cannot allow this "whore" to ruin his family's good name, and her friends warning her that Grayson is a peer and would never risk his reputation for her. But as the walls begin to close in on them, in the form of royalty, family, close friends, and obligations, they both need to realize that love might be worth a little sacrifice and a whole lot of scandal.


One thing i like so much about this novel is the writer's vivid descriptions. Right from the start Kate Bergeron was described as a very beautiful woman, but one perfect description one of her friends used to describe her in the novel was THE DIAMOND OF THE FIRST WATERS! How i like that description!

But then again i think the writer tried too hard to convince us of  the beauty of Kate.
You will understand what i mean better if you have read the book.

Kobena Eyi Acquah

Kobena Eyi Acquah

In the Navel of the Soul- by Kobena Eyi Acquah

In the navel of the soul
the midwives of the spirit say
they can hear a heart-throb

The experts, of course
disagree
The urine test they ordered
said, Negative
confirming their palpation results
Our fundal height is at an
all time low
our breasts bear no
tell-tale tints upon their tits

Yet in their finger upon
our navel
the midwives of the spirit say
they feel a foetal throb

God
the things that are done
in Your name -
I mean, the things that are undone
behind
the flimsy facade of Your name

If our own eyes
had not seen in broad daylight
the things they have here
disclaimed on oath
we would be believing we
dreamt it all

Indeed, even now
under the heat of their
quizzical glare
the benign indulgence of
their smile
we are not sure -
No. We are sure

They say we have gone
all out of our mind

If madness nurtures such lucidity
God, make us mad -
make us even more mad

For in the navel
of the soul
we, too, have felt, at times
the throb
of a straining heart,
a spirit refusing to be drowned
in its own waters
before birth

Great poem i dare say. Read the Poet's Biography below.

ACQUAH, Kobena Eyi (1952-), Ghanaian poet, was born in Winneba, in the Central Region of Ghana, and educated at the University of Ghana, Legon and the Ghana Law School. He is a legal and investment consultant, he also contributes to Ghana's public life in such organizations as the Copyright Board, the W.E.B. Dubois Centre for Pan-African Culture, and the Ghana Book Development Council. His publications include The Man Who Died (1984), Music for a Dream Dance (1989), Rivers Must Flow, and No Time for a Masterpiece (1995).