Just A Talk With Thee Poem by Jerryman Appiahene Gyamfi

Emotions flood up a mind
For ages to the cogitate confin'd,
Lost in the sphere of pragmatism,
Cast to the den of escapism;
No breath to breathe
In ‘tis life far from blithe
But with thee just a conversation
Hath been a plethora liberation
From such unsurmountable torrents
Of thornly torments.

Ain’t thee human?
Could words uttered by mortal man
Assume such divine grace and addornment?
Ain’t thee in flesh and blood garment?
Ain’t thee a product of man’s pleasure?
And yet, here standeth thee in trove treasure,
In rare light of Venus appealing,
Giving me rays of healing
Through thy swift swinging words,
Thunder and lightenings of my inwards.

So far into the sea of written words
sailed I in search for those hoards
Which milk and honey one’s existence;
Weeded I the obliterated distance
To reach the secret calescence
delight of ‘tis mortal existence,
To give a sense to ‘tis e’er crumbling
instances which though crumpling
Seems perpetual to the bud,
But to none of us than its scud.

Through the e’er sparkling skies
Of intimate thoughts flew I in highs
Saying to the I I am,
“See how exquisite and plum
just a simple talk could be.
Why in wistful turmoil silence be?
Awake from thy slumber!
Take these delight-converse-pills in number
To cure thyself from thy dilating emptiness,
For to the dead alone is aloneness”.

Oh yes! , my soul for thy utterings crave,
My little ears for thy sweet voice starve,
My eyes, soaked in unworthiness sea,
from thine constantly flee
whilst thine tiredlessly seeketh mine.
No! , neither ornaments nor the bistoury dine
Can make a fine portrait of thy beauty,
my dear, but thy swift swinging words,
shrine of thy eternal beauty.