Poetry Corner: Some names for lip service 

Poetry Corner

It seems a million years have gone by

Since a people treasured a good name

And measured it above silver and gold

Much more above the most prized of diamonds


Few were those whose names

Embellished indelible deeds

But many were who responded to appellations

Just to spell out a feat so fruitless


So Kawambire rose to his feet at the trumpet sound of Osagyefo

For he was a warrior of valour

He fought to conquer a foe of no mean stature

His victory dealt a death blow to a state of dependence

Against servitude he poured out his hateful abhorrence

Freedom! Freedom!!…was his avowed preference

Then they booted him out

While he still put his hands to it

With none to hold his fort…to this day


His intelligent mind

Earned him, The Intellectual Giant of no kind

Just when he set out to read out his economic thesis

The Best University Scholar In Africa

Came to Be Under Serious Internal Attack

He was booted out

With one in the city to hold his fort…sooner than later


Li was a Gentleman of the gentleman

He manned but only for a short span

His main man was Kawambire

His main aim was to reclaim

Then he was booted out

Just like his main man

One there was to hold his fort…soon after


Arombire was known for his Kasapreko

Who dared speak otherwise?

Who dared refuse his orders?

Who dared raise a voice for the voiceless?

Arombire must roar…and roar

Arombire must be heard…even when his boom spelt doom

He revved and revved his revolution

But he took a reverse…ultimately

Then he bowed out

With one in the city to hold his fort


Katakumbe was a calm Okatakyie

He stood tall

When all around him were very short, very small

His eyes did the tricks for his talks

His height left him as the last man standing tall

He had responded to a call to bring about a fall

As they cheered on

He bowed out when all were still cheering on

One in the city there was to hold his fort


Anane was as sharp as Busumburu

As he blossomed to tip the global scales

They all agreed he was Shark, the Zulu

No table would sit without his head

No head could fill up to his diplomatricks

No tricks could fell Anane’s Oak tree of success

He was still Busumburu when he headed for his six feet

None in the city there was to hold his fort


Ataala would rather be a Peacemaker

Would rather gather all his chicks under his wings

Would rather sing to all to whom his name stinks

Would rather think about home…than leave home to think about some in their home

They were still in search of a pacemaker when Peacemaker reached his Maker

One there was in the city to hold his fort


Sarkodie was not at all like Kodie, the Eagle

…when he rudely appeared

But he had eyes to look and see far

His works walked far ahead…into the future

His words were few…fewer than the days he worked

But his words were worth his works

So they named him Oseadeeyo

He was booted out

While he still put his hands to it

With one in the city to hold his fort


The Honourable

His Excellency

Nearly His Majesty

He was initiated onto the pitch as Kantamanto

With a flurry of budding and budded rolls of roses

He was in a hurry to pay all his vows

But men of much faith saw vows turn into lows

…into epic lows


Kantamanto attempted to trumpet his lows

In the eyes of faithful fellows

To colour his lows in loads of low lying lies

For the eyes and ears of swelling scoffing foes

But many now agreed that Kantamanto needed a brand new name

To match his broken image

Kantamanto thought not so differently

He needed a brand new army

To search a new name


Dovlo stood out as the only true General

Commanding all to leave their books open

Some did

Some did not…daring to see what will happen

Some knew him so well

Some did not…swapping him for a refugee

Some liked him so well

Some did not..saying he did not deserve

He must be a deportee

But he liked himself

He laughed all by himself

Laughing all the way out…way out of their way



Many many years after

Many many names after

Many names famed away

Many appellations paled off

As there lay many layers of disaster

A people knew names never served a people

A people no longer treasured appellations of hollow intentions

A people measured appellations by treasured abilities


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