POEM: ODE TO THE LOST ONES ( Chapter 1)

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SURVIVOR’S TALE; The Story of Apallo

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  EPISODE 1   Four-corners was one of the best soccer games Apallo loved to play when we were kids. Talking of “Mo nky3 ndi” which literally means “Lets share to spend” you will lose if he’s your opponent. You dare not play against him. There’s no way we could fix a football match without Apallo. He was the best. He could dribble almost every player on the pitch. I recollect in one of our serious football matches against another vicinity called “Tebulemu”. Boys in that neighbourhood were scary and fearsome but Apallo dribbled almost every player on the pitch forgetting to score and bypassed the goal post. He could be selfish sometimes and if you are not careful, you will never touch a ball till its half time. Aside being a “ballu gbee”, he was a very hard working guy. “Ma guy, one day I go travel go Yankey oo” he used to say this to me every day. Every afternoon after school, Apallo would visit most of the houses in the neighbourhood to empty their waste bins and carry ...
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Daavi told me to be calm and sober Daavi told me to take my studies serious. It’s key to success Daavi promised that everything is going to be fine and easy when I grow up Daavi did not tell me one thing Daavi did not tell me everything Daavi did not tell me it’s going to be tougher as I grow up Daavi told me to focus. “There is more sleep after death my son” she said. “After graduating, you will have all the time to rest. There is more sleep after death” Daavi did not tell me they were all lies. There is no way I could rest after school. Daavi!!! You should have told me. You should have told me that after National Service, I would be hunting for jobs. Daavi did not tell me that a time may come, I will be paying utility bills, school fees, buying school supplies, diapers and etc. That I will grow up with responsibilities upon my shoulders Daavi told me to be punctual at Sunday School Daavi said church is good for me. God w...
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TAKE ME HOME

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Take me home to where I belong Take me home to where I was born My heart is heavily hurt with thorns They say I blow my own horn But who will, if I don’t? Take me home to where I want to be Ride me on your mighty and mysterious Chariot Over here is full of chaos and riot Take me home My root calls me For I am a man of my youth With strong bones, strong muscles, and strong teeth I do not want to grow old, die and be buried in an uncultured soil Take me home. I want to see my family I want to see my friends I want to farm on a rich soil I want to listen to folktales told by my ancestors I want to live the life of my people I want to be called a Ghanaian    Take me home I want to go home I wish not to be alone Time has been spent and far gone I am too young to spend my entire life at dawn Take me ...
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