Kweku Atta Crayon
Biography of Kweku Atta Crayon
A bite of me
Welcome to the life of a man born in the very early hours of 17th October,1990.
My age has never been a barrier against my aspirations to be the change Africa and Africans seek.
My birth in a village called Prestea in the western region of Ghana brought so much joy to a couple called Mr. and Mrs. Oppong. I was born with an attached sister, which by nature automatically became my twin sister. She is doing fine.(if you just asked how she faring) .
I wish I could describe the pains she went through at birth and the struggles of rearing such a stubborn twins, anyway I will do my best to serve you a taste of her pains as narrated by the lips of Mrs. Paulina Oppong:
Tears of her womb
Sweat bathed her
She screamed in pains
In the afternoon, she saw a dark world
We were kicking to see Mrs. world
She sent her left leg far from the right
the only commandment she obeyed was 'Puuushhh'
Her heart seemed to have traveled out of the body
Baaam, there, our big heads see earth
Her pains went into shyness
as joy took the floor
She is a mother, that was a blessing
but come we make it a burden
Our seat and lavatory
dinning table and play ground
Her breast, our meal and teddy bear
Her smile, our mirror
in which we see the better us
Her stomach, our blanket
We grew, we disobeyed and left
She grew too, stay calmed and searched
We sinned, went wayward
She forgave, called us great
She is ill and weak
yet she prays, God save them
This is her, this is my mom
This Mrs. Paulina Oppong aka Yaa Akyaa.
You want to add her, browse www.bestmumintheworld.com
Oh poor me, I forgot about the agenda we have here-I was telling you about my self, but you can't blame me that much because half of my thoughts have been on my mum.
If you have read up to this line then it's really spells your interest to know this boy who had his basic education in three different schools namely
1. Providence International School (Lagos, Nigeria)
2. St. Anglican Primary School (Bogoso, Ghana)
3. Naraguta Grammar School. (Tarkwa, Ghana)
I graduated my basic school in Naraguta in April,2006 where I topped my batch with seven 1's in ten subjects, it was not because I was the school prefect but I guess it was because I just had the zeal to excel.
Another chapter in my life opened in Ghana Secondary technical School, (GSTS) . I personally describe my studentship duration on tescoland (the campus of GSTS) as the period of 'Great metamorphosis'. A lot more than a book took place in my life around the oval shape of GSTS.
I rest my experience in a book underway 'TESCANISM - Life around the Oval' by Oppong Clifford Benjamin.
After three years of the hells and heavens of GSTS, I completed high school a changed person (to know whether a positive or negative change lays in the breast of the book) . A year after school was a boring one at home, the only activities that stole the greater parts of my 24 hours were video games, internet surfing and reading. Out of these three actions only one made me who I am now, I guess it is obvious, you are thinking it's reading, wrong you. You again failed to ask me what I was reading about, anyway you are not too wrong, reading of articles and poems online brought my spirit closer to the literal arts despite my study of science.
However, my concern in poetry, writing and Africanism didn't have any influence in the choice of my tertiary education program. I am now a civil engineering student in the Btech school of Engineering in Kumasi Polytechnic, Ghana.
As it stands, I do more of writing and poetry than any other thing, not even civil engineering swallows my attention more than poetry and Pan- Africanism.
Again welcome to a life of a Builder of the African Dream.
Kweku Atta Crayon Poems
Heaven Or Hell
A world on web, Facebook written on computers not books No existing citizens But billions denizens
Our Artificial Africa
When the birds were heard rapping Stead of singing and wings flapping It was obvious somethings had gone wrong And nature wouldn't have them to its belong
A Woman For Women
Facial Make-up, humility Foot prints, gentility Voice so calm respect born in palm
Daughter Of Africa
In the midst of all she lived Unknown to many where she suffered Victim of bad governance and corrupt system
Call Me A Refugee
Gun cracks behind our windows An alarm to say wake up, is your turn Woke up with a weeping heart but hardened eyes
The African Dream
A future seen in dreams Flowing like a stream From person to persons Years down, dream worsens
My Lame Friend
Today I saw you in suit Wanted to say you look cute But you were in an air condition car Yet, I still could see your pain scar
Vox Populi, Vox Dei
'I won You lost You cheated The election was rigged''
My Dying Dream
Once upon a time A dream sank under broad day sight of the dreamer
In the busy sand of the seashores Retracing our foot prints in measured steps Gazing sun that crowns the acmes of coconut trees Twinkly face smiling at tidal waves
A Poem To The Late President
In your 68 years of existence You were reduced to a nonentity You were ridiculed They created a platform for boys and girls
This Is My Home
This is my home The start of my beginning and the ending of my end An opened arm
Love is Sweet; When I fall For you to stand When you cry
Church In Me
Flow into me, let’s sing White songs, black hearts on the altar of my heart, let’s pray troubled hearts with thanksgiving
Call Me A Refugee
Gun cracks behind our windows
An alarm to say wake up, is your turn
Woke up with a weeping heart
but hardened eyes
Children wailing from distances
Away from armed Fathers
The CNN reported 'grief'
Just don't describe the moment