Narcissus (daffodils in spring)

Serene and majestic

they stand

oscillating and tilting

their proud crowns,

how their sweet fragrance

suffuses the midst of spring.


Like gold dust

the daffodils glisten,

in the mystical air.








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Spring stroll


See , the daffodils’ bulbs

race each other to bloom,

canary yellow buds in noon

gentle nods to the slight breeze

sturdily adjacent like churches’ pews.

Watch, the sheep grazing

oblivious to our gaze

except for two, transfixed,

for seconds,

then ravenously devour

the iridescent water

which sparkles in spring’s haze.

Hear, the sweet  notes of spring

from the birds’ choir

harmonious tunes,

violas and harps,

twinkle like stars,

painting the sky, river blue.

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No other like you

A shining light
tremendous might
with valiant fortitude
forever this will shield
Mama Africa.

Your gift,
an unfaltering  branch of freedom
irreplaceable liberty,
enduring ribbons
of hope.

His eyes,
sparkling crystals
as he ponders the news
in South Africa’s hazy
orange sun.

From the vibrancy of Cape Town,
to the rural stillness of
humble Qunu
the rainbow nation
thank you
there will be

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she rocks to the

sparkle of the cymbals

and the deep, deep bellow of

bass its

echoes encased

in velvet saxophone

smooth, chocolate, tones

tap,  tap, tap shoes


rhythm and blues.





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Djembe drum

Mine clasps with yours
Like the grasp of my favourite
shell clip.

Inside I feel bejewelled
a shooting star
my heartbeat a djembe drum,

So cool as ice is yours
my eyes trace the spider web
of your palm,
a maze of secrets and keepsakes.

Me, light,
as a swirling feather,
imbued with love
spun from
the might
our bare hands.

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Busy, busy Accra,

flourishing with tourists, traders and me.

There in the midst Kwame Nkrumah’s statue

solemnly looks over his city

a centrepiece of history.

Tourists contemplate for a minute or so

in Ghana’s sun rays, gleaming,

gentle brushstrokes

painting Accra city.

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azure blue,

calmly ripples

when the boat

from Sorrento to Capri

glides so



breathtaking views!

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Winter in Spring -March 2013

Sharp ice wind

bites my cheek.

Freezes my feet.


Under our haven

the bus shelter,

we huddle,

with our leather gloves

we applaud,

a dance for warmth.


As we shudder,

with our sea of striped scarves

with stars

and stylish velvet hats

we chat

strangers in March.


Oh winter in spring


how your snow petals

lovingly, so delicately

stroke our skin,




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Hampstead Heath

As we enter the Heath
we have an irrepressible hunger
to explore,
the fertile
verdant green
burgeoning with mystery.

All breeds of dogs toddle along
beside their owners,
some distracted, avoiding our gaze,
others smile with pride at
admiring glances
at their comrades.

The Heath
an interminable maze,
we stop and gaze
soak in the skyscrapers at
Parliament Hill,
others chill!

The bird pond
with the graceful swan,
The pigeons perched
on the bold branches,

Heath of Hampstead
Hampstead Heath,
what a feast!

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The Parade

So proud,
how they ignite
the arena

So bold,
how they wave
their flags,
So enigmatic,
some their stories untold
yet their journey will unfold.

Watch, the rainbow of countries,
with history  entrenched
united, they celebrate
from Azerbaijan to the Faroe Islands,
to Uganda to Zambia and Zimbabwe.

Spectators struck with awe
boisterously cheer them all,
the true Olympians,
see their power and might
on  Paralympics opening night.

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