A Call For Nkrumah’s Help

He who pays respect to the great man , paves way for his own greatness.

Our dreams were built from decades to centuries, by leaders who wished to trade our image into possibilities

In the period of trade, our priceless inheritance was exchanged for  less valuable  commodities, which were scarce for the natives on the island of  treasuries

Heads were putted together to draw greatness from the borehole using hands as pulleys

Until the minds of our kings were bought with the  smoke in pipes

From then, there was a change in pattern of trade from  items to the strength of men

And also the assistance in household chores from our women was in high demand

Chains then became our bracelets and whips our ally to  pains

Brutality was climaxed with the era of colonialism where our affairs were managed with canes

During their regime of administration, our sweats were flied to the white man’s land as colonial gains

The cries and roars from the disturbed humanity in our mothers got the elites attracted and so they fought in rains

And then, the petition of self government saw it’s way to the throne of the British monarch

Upon hearing the news of self rule, birds sang from joy and sheeps bleated for independence labelled as a trademark

Our women danced their plights into the skies, as the twin eagles flied high to welcome the era of freedom and justice

They say perfection is  achieved not without constant practice, so patriotic entities greased their effort with perfect practice

And so came the voice of the cock from Jakppa Lanta’s hut, producing harmonic rhythm from  Philip Gbeho’s

“God bless our homeland Ghana”.

I learnt Okomfo Anokye commanded the unity of the Ashanti’s from the skies,

And Tohajie, the red hunter taught his people how to hunt for games that flies.

Unity then became our slogan and so development became an essential tissue in our organ

Ephraim Amoh stole the minds of our people with his flute   and the melodies from his atentenben caught the heart of Mrs Theodosia Oko,

So she packaged the red blood, shed by our fathers in the gold dockets of our mothers; who nurtured the greenish nature of our agriculture to instill hope in our black star.

Days faded into weeks, weeks into months and months into years

And still, the seed of life inherent in Tetteh Quarshie’s cocoa lives in the depth heart of Nkrumah’s land.

Our country is improving, though on a slow pace,

So I urge someone to send my petit