Maud Agyemang-Gyau
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Stories (14)
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What Love Is
"Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away"~1 Corinthians 13:4-7
By Maud Agyemang-Gyau about a year ago in Poets
What Is Love?
What is love? What is love if there's no patience? What is love if there's no kindness? What is love, if all that there is is envy and jealousy? What is love in the midst of pride and pomposity? What is love in the midst of toxicity and chaosity? What is love in the midst of unforgiveness? What's love when there's no peace? What's love when evil reigns and rules? What's love when all the sins of men are laid bare? What's love when all that exists and matters is self-gratification? Can love exist in the midst of all these? Can love thrive? Can it suffice? Can it remain? Can love stand the test of time? Can love be the opposite of all this negativity and even more? Can men love one another? Can they do so effortlessly, unconditionally? And will they? What do you think? I put it to you🫵
By Maud Agyemang-Gyau about a year ago in Poets
Awakening Greatness
Out of the bowels of every great man, Flows rivers of living water, This water gives life to every dead thing it encounters, In his bones are endless flames of fire shut up, A consuming fire that refines everything in its path, Water and fire, A seemingly odd pair, But these are the things that dwell inside the great, A burning desire to be a difference, Yet a calm flow that awakens from death, Greatness is calling, Whose primary requirement is communion with a higher being, An intimate relationship that lasts from age to age, Its fruits impacting many generations, Journeying from north to south and east to west, Until all are refined and become one with greatness
By Maud Agyemang-Gyau about a year ago in Poets
Memory Lane
The glimpses of time past flash through my eyes, As I reminisce on the greatness of yesterday, It almost feels like it were today, The sizzling aroma of a once great personality, Grasping onto me like a dazzling prince, I do wish I could go back to that day, When things were all red and rosy, And I didn't have to question my very existence, But I can't go back, Reality stares me in the eyes and screams loudly, 'Hey you, wake up from your slumber! It's time to face life; to face me,' I have to wake up, I have to face this scary reality, And fight so hard to make a change, Posterity depends on my success, I cannot and will not fail, It's time to rise up; to wake up from my slumber and fight, I must fight until I win!
By Maud Agyemang-Gyau about a year ago in Poets
A Father
A Father, The bedrock of His children, The shoulder on which the girl child rests, The source of the male child's strength, A Father, many a time a disciplinarian, Yet so loving and kind, His presence gives hope to his children, And takes all fears away from his sight, His love lays bare the feminine side of the girl child, And gives rise to the strongest, And the most diligent male child, Blessed is the woman who submits herself to him, And blessed is the one in whose world he's found, For he is an exemplary figure worthy of emulation.
By Maud Agyemang-Gyau about a year ago in Poets
THE PEN OF A READY WRITER
What beauty springs forth, When the pen meets its master; The writer, The scribblings of meaningless words, Joined together to make a meaningful masterpiece, Inspired or uninspired, The writer must always be ready, The seal of the promise his guide, Or perhaps a model or mentor, Whatever it may be, It surely is of God; his greatest motivation, His beauty and splendour expressed, Ever so greatly in all creation, The greatest inspiration to the ready writer, His hands are made ready, Even as his mind is opened up, To the endless possibilities that are welled up inside him, He pens down all these possibilities; words they may be When his mind can no longer hold them in, It could take him a minute, or probably an hour But the finished work, how grand and beautiful, Oh how great are the works of the ready writer!
By Maud Agyemang-Gyau about a year ago in Poets
