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I am Efo Dela from the Volta Region of Ghana. I am a Computer Engineer by profession and an amateur Poet. 
I started started writing in 2002 when i was in Mawuli. Back then the poems were not so good but over the years my writing has improved quite a bit over the years. My favorite writers are Professor Atukwei Okai and Langstone Hughes.

This Blog
This is my first blog and as such it might be changing appearance quite often till I get the hang of things. I decided to create this blog as a place to share my poems so people could critique and appreciate. I've got quite a few poems some great and others not so great. As time goes on, I will post them and newly written ones.

My Other Blog
Do check out my other blog Politically Incorrect. This blog is all about Ghana and Ghanaians everywhere. As usual it satirical. 

My Poems
My poems are inspired by everyday occurrences and sometimes and over fertile imagination. I write on all aspect of the human life. My style tends to be sarcastic and witty but not always, some are solemn and reflective.

The Present
Two of my poems, "Our Brother was an Idiot" and "The Palm Wine Seller's Daughter" have gain a lot of publicity and that has been really encouraging. The Poetry Foundation Ghana recently informed me that I was  the most read poet of the year 2011 (click the link to read more about that). I'm hoping for an even more eventful 2012

The Future
I hope to publish my poems and other literary works some time soon, I'm not sure when I do not plan to become a full time writer in the foreseeable future. I hope I can continue writing for a long time time to come

Popular posts from this blog

They Don't Teach us how to Grieve

They don't teach young men How to grieve.

Be a man, Stand strong, Men don't cry, They say.
That's how we are made.
Somewhere, There's a conveyor belt Constantly chucking out Boys, with pent-up toxic emotions, Shoulders hunched under the weight of society's expectations.
There's a piece of wood in my mouth I bite hard on it praying I don't black out As I saw off another weakness I saw in the mirror.
Something about Better to enter the Kingdom With one arm...
I don't know...
A brother died today,

Bats at 37

When bats at 37 take to flight, At a quarter past four Or, whatever time Accra heralds the night,

When bats at 37 take to flight, For me, there's not a more beautiful sight Of creatures, imagined or real, That lay claim to these glorious skies.

When bats at 37 take to flight, With fevered screeches that punctuate the night When by sheer numbers they darken the skies And, below, people of a superstitious disposition Can not be bothered, I am reminded that, Given enough time all things cease to be strange.

When bats at 37 take to flight, Devoid of vibrant plumes unlike most things that fly, Rising like Legion and the hordes of hell, In defiance of extermination attempts, Above the Hospital in elusive figurativeness, Haphazardly, in sync, over constipated traffic There is not a doubt who owns the peppered night.

When bats at 37 take to flight;

Hero Worship

The air is thin And the landing narrow, Up, on the dizzying heights, Where we set our heroes.
There, gusty winds Neither holds brief Nor relief As they threaten to Humble all things that elevate themselves.
When like prayers We've offered flattery On altars of unrealistic expectations And our heroes, like golden calves, Glisten with pride, Know this, There surely is a reckoning When they come tumbling down.
We were the mob at the foot of the mountain Elevating them in adulation
We are the mob at the foot of the mountain Now shouting CRUCIFY HIM, CRUCIFY HIM, CRUCIFY HIM