Our President Died: On Mills' Death

When a someone dies, you cannot say you do not feel it. When a president dies, you just get lost. Today, Ghana, we have lost our president. He was a man who loved and hated. There is one thing we can do: Respect his memory.

In this light, I wrote a poem as Blogging Ghana members blog today to show the world how we feel in this country at the tragic loss. Here it is:

Our President Died

When the cock crowed

And the hen went picking

The rocks amidst the seeds chocked her

The chickens that hated her stood transfixed

Gazing at their magic wands

Did it cut her up to smithereens?

Rumours of wishes of her death

Spread viciously by wickedly jealous ants

Her lovers were many, and – but

Their chicken hearts spoke silently

She choked finally.