- Shelton Gonkerwon has acknowledged receipt of his amazing flower from a veteran Liberian writer and one-time renowned sport journalist, Omari Jackson alias OJ, who now resides in the United States.
Unlike the usual protocol in Liberia whereby flowers are given during funeral or wake keeping services over the lifeless body of a person, Omari chose to do the opposite. For example, while Shelton is still alive and his hand is wittily driving the pen, Omari whose name remains indelible in the Liberian media landscape, has written a very amazing piece in Shelton’s honor to recognize his contributions to literature in the Liberia including poems and proverbs.
Above all, Shelton considers his flower a very pure and a soul lifting gesture, a flower that he proudly counts its amazing colors while life remains his host.
Indeed, Omari is telling the world that a true literary “general’ is being neglected by the Liberian society. Omari is letting the God of our forefathers to know about the maltreatment given writers in the Liberian society. Omari could no longer wait to give Shelton his flower. He’s doing so while Shelton eyes are not yet closed forever. He’s giving him his flower while his eyes shine so that he can count its amazing colors and not when he’s dead and gone. He’s counting the colors of his flower, while inspiration, creativity and courage clap their hands.
Shelton meanwhile, wish the society could see through the eyes of Omari to recognize the works of our hands. Shelton wish the society could listen to the sound of the trumpet Omari is blowing calling on the government of Liberia to rescue writers and let them not die with frustration.
Shelton has therefore hastened to thank Omari for his beautiful flower, a gift that will certainly lift Shelton’s soul. This gesture has generated Shelton’s literary speed. It has shown that real hero and heroines are those who use the pen to destroy the lion’s den by encouraging the building of a society where evil men will never get a space.
Shelton, a proud son of Nimba County has authored four books and several raw or unpublished works, including poems and proverbs. He wishes the society could see through the eyes of Omari to see Dark Freedom, Silent Voice, Beyond the Ordinary Eyes and Weeping Love. The following piece written by Omari in recognition of Shelton’s works shows that only the eagle can identify another eagle. It shows that only the farmer knows where sits the rich soil. It proves that it takes another writer to locate another writer in the unknown world. As you go through the below lines, written by Omari, you will notice that he’s not only showing Shelton’s location to the world, he’s telling the Liberian society to bring on board those men in the world of writers whose gifts are neglected and buried.
Verses in the Trenches: The Ballad of General Shelton Gonkerwon
Ah, Mr. F. Shelton Gonkerwon! A name that bounces off the lips like a cassava leaf stew bubbling on a coal pot—fragrant, bold and unmistakably Liberian. A man whose devotion to Nimba County glows brighter than a solar lamp on NEPA-free nights. Gonkerwon is no ordinary citizen. He is a poet-warrior, a literary insurgent armed not with bullets but with blistering metaphors. This is a writer l have known since 1985.
Picture him now: not storming a battlefield with a helmet and rifle, but marching forward with a notebook in one hand and a feathered pen in the other. His war Cry? A perfectly structured sonnet capable of making the most corrupt official reach for a tissue—or an exit strategy. Gonkerwon doesn’t throw punches; he launches couplets. His enemies don’t bleed; they blush with shame when caught in the crossfire of his righteous rhymes.
In the heat of bureaucratic battle, when the opposition hides behind vague development plans and recycled slogans, it is Gonkerwon who rises:
“Captain!” yells a trembling aide. “The councilmen are dodging accountability behind PowerPoint slides!”
“Then deploy ‘The Elegy of Misused Budgets,’” Gonkerwon commands, pushing up his spectacles. “Follow with ‘The Stanza of Stalled Roads’—and if they still resist, unleash the full force of ‘Nimba’s Glorious Tomorrow,’ written in heroic verse!”
This is a man who dreams in blueprints and rhymes in policy reform. To him, “accountability” is not just a buzzword—it’s the refrain of every stanza he crafts. He envisions a Nimba where progress isn’t promised in vague terms but delivered with the precision of a well-punctuated line.
And when the ink runs dry? Fear not. Gonkerwon doesn’t panic—he petitions the Ministry of Information and Cultural Affairs and Tourism for an emergency poetry resupply. For him, the pen is not just mightier than the sword; it’s the only thing worth wielding.
Should misappropriation rear its ugly head, you can be sure he’s somewhere drafting “The Epic of the Vanishing Village Clinic Fund,” annotated with references and receipts. If development stalls, expect a sonnet titled: “Ode to the Unfinished Pit Latrine,” with stanzas sharp enough to pierce the heart of public indifference.
- Shelton Gonkerwon is no mere man—he’s a literary whirlwind, a sonnet-slinging sentinel standing guard over Nimba’s hopes. A soldier of syntax. A general of justice. A bard for the bewildered.
So let the ink flow, let the rhymes thunder, and let no pothole go unpoemed. Liberia needs Gonkerwon’s verses like jollof rice needs spice. Long may he scribble, and may someone—please—gift him a lifetime supply of notebooks. The nation awaits its next stanza.