“Fartful” Experience – A Senryu Broadcast

No science I know of can provide a means to make farts sweeter. However when you’re a haiku poet like Adjei Agyei-Baah, then perhaps you could by some means even make a fart fresher.

The doyen of African haiku once again provides us with a collection, a Senryu collection this time, all dedicated to this all common human nature, which like all farts, Adjei just couldn’t hold it in but bless the world with his “Piece of My Fart “.

To provide you with a gist of what the reader would get in this e-book, here’s my three choices from a 26-long Senryu collection. Of course I could have selected more, but I rather want readers to discover for themselves.

the heaviness of my guilt
behind my fart

Always considered an uncultured behaviour, how heavy is one’s guilt when he lets rip in such a holy place? The prayer of forgiveness is almost instantaneous as the fart. I laugh at this one.

Harmattan breeze
wondering how far
my fart had journeyed

Winds, breezes are the coolest friends to a farter. Yet, as they carry the guilt away we still wonder how far the fart’s journeyed.

public toilet
masking my fart
with the closet flush

This poem is a reminder that farts comes in various sounds and while we do conceal that with other sounds nearby, let us still ask, “what is a sound to a smell?” I can only imagine.

Like his previous collections, the pieces therein are as well translated into Twi, the language Adjei speaks, proving yet again his giftedness and desire to show the versatility of this indigenous language.

For a “fartful” Senryu experience follow the link below to download for FREE Adjei’s newest collection:



lf I Had A Book

If I had a book
I would bury my feet in its wadable waters
Walk through the fields of its fragrant flowers
Be carried away by its luring air
Be warmed sitting beside its hearth in a chair

If I had a book
I would journey along its burbling brooks
Find daring adventure in its wild woods
Visit its cities, every cranny and nook
See the world from where the eagle looks

If I had a book
And in bed or couch where I should
Alone with a livid world I would
See into palaces and thoughts I could
Fight storms and villains like a hero would
Contend with the world for my love like Romeo could

If I had a book
I would laugh alone like I was crazy
I would cry after the tale and tragedy
I would walk with men great and small
Identify with women weak and strong
And still wonder why it never bothers the throng

O the chills and thrills and drills
That would turn, swirl and twirl
Twist, spin and change my world
If I had a book

Praise Worthy

A half an hour ride
Maybe more for the hefty
traffic slowing the ride
He descends to hailing voices
and waving arms
Disbelieving stares
following closely behind
About him, an air of
doubtful satisfaction
His “ordinary man” impersonation
Soon floods the media stations
Because he joined a
public transportation
The statesman’s stunt is praise
His rare condescendingness
only too cosmetic

Where Is Ubuntu?


Where is Ubuntu?
Ubuntu is out there
On the streets
Marching like a storm
Ubuntu scares

Where is Ubuntu?
Ubuntu wields a sledge
And a club in his defense
Ubuntu murders
Ubuntu swears
His morsels are stolen
By sojourners
So he sneers

Ubuntu says
He isn’t because we are
Ubuntu gathered
Now he scatters

 (Xenophobic attack on Emmanuel Sithole, a Mozambican in South Africa. Emmanuel eventually died from injuries sustained in the attack.Photo Credit: James Otaway.Sunday Times, SA)

Never Seen Again

She would read my poems
And tell me excitedly about them
Those of love, lands and pains
Of pride, politics and strains
She would pester me about how good they are
Her constant acclaim were a pleasurable bother
It looked like I made her day
When I did write one for her sake
On her birthday, so amazed
And crazed she did say it was great
Though it wasn’t one that featured my heart’s state
Waves of mirth flushed her face
Just an honest tease of a friend’s graceful image
Her excitedness couldn’t have been misplaced
And for months I remained in her hall of fame
Then the curtains closed on the stage
Along with the applause which too faded
Before I could send my heart her way
Wrapped in poems to say that I felt that way
She was not to be seen again

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