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27.02.2020 Poem


By Samuel Atta Poakwa
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The chant for freedom glares in the finger bite
If He knew the tomorrow he died for, hmmmm !!!
He sees the cheers of mister chairman,
The pot beneath his chest is the breath of his brother,

And the sweet perfume, his brothers’ sweat bought.

Is this the sheep I raised in the blood of my soul?

He weeps for the hollowpendent Ghana.
The “wo nua de wo nua” which bribery has succeeded peacefully,

Mr. Chairman minds his business and not our neatness.

The palm that fed thousand now has a straw into his pocket.

The restless mouth receives either chide or merciless hype.

The seer is either given the marrow to mute the 360 wide mouth,

Or a rib leakage to run out the river of life.
I weep for the hollowpendent Ghana.
Holding the high esteem has evaporated.
Toil of the brave and the sweat of their labour,
Yet their sheep is slaughtered for the shepherd today.

The leading sheep graze by grace day by day,
Whilst the followers never see their grace till they see graves.

I weep for the hollowpendent Ghana.
Arise oh Gold coast, redeem the name in just,
For your tomorrow is in yesterday and today.
Sprint in the shoes of yesterday,
And watch with the eye of an eagle.
Behold your freedom in the dungeon.
Repair the love that drifted off the hearts of men,

And weep for the hollowpendent Ghana
Stand tall and put your heads high.
Hold the hand of a brother and smile.
Chant high the song of freedom in a while,
For we will find it even with millions of miles.
If the blood is truly black,
Let us all behold and work for no luck
And hail an independent Ghana someday.
By Samuel Atta Poakwa.
In pain for jubilant Ghana who is to weep rather.

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