POEM OF THE WEEK - The hands of poverty
From the hands of poverty I was born, knowing not mother or father, having no sister or brother and the truth to my name was lost somewhere in the past.
A view - Violence of the time evolved
This indicates we must be involved - Many might seek for solution
Crying out
Everyone dey cry out - Eas, Wes, Nort an Sout - Dem dey cry fe peace -
Anancy story
Arriving on our shores centuries ago - This African folklore Brer Anancy - An imaginary character of an actor
Be a hero
Be a hero fe yuh country - Stap de fighting - Hol up yuh head high
|
