Ink-Space Publications

A smote into our hearts When our sons disregard our hunts Look they spake of a revolution Hearkenin to its civilization Harsh! You hear of their nuts And turned gay to their chants Yet its complexity never satisfied your anxiety Your memories are filled with darkness, Which can never lighten up your curiosity For we taught we have moulded your hearts We cried for your impetuous acceptance Their erronous culture never suited you but you undoubtedly followed Did we not clothe you? Did we not feed you? Did we not teach you? Your bodies now refuse to be clothed Your mouth now neglects her breast Your mind keeps on to be entangled with fear You look but never see Your *eyes* never heard our cries Why do you besought now? When you Don't even know where your leg stands. Nichole Jane Asare 09/09/17

The clarion call sounded A sound of heartbreak Why keep mute Why should sons of the land Devour the land And live a merciless land at hand Its lips tremble for water Its eye seek for a bosom. A shattered grain of hope The bemoans of the land. Did i tell you i was dumb? Cried out the son of the land. Dumb not are you but like two silly lambs do you follow ignorance Be perturbed be vigilant The land is ours to make Jane Nichole Asare