The City Centre Poem by Tony Adah

The City Centre



The colours flew in the wind
Upon a flag pole;
Down it, the marble sat
With our sullen history on its laps;
Of the African chiefs and the greed
For the trade in humans
And the acquiescence of the chiefs.
The huddled captives chained
To the shores
Where the anchored ships steamed away
With the human wares.

Down the triangle
Amidst the royal palms on lush grounds
A green sculptured machine gun stands
On its still roller feet;
Its muzzle pointing to the bank
Guiding against the naira slide.

From here
One road leads to Moore road;
The most coveted abode
Of any lucky folk who the governor's toga fits
Another to Watt market
Where the toilers meet to buy and sell
Still another leads to Akim barracks
Where the soldier's sentry siege
Lay in wait for the toilers' song.
Then on the wayside to Moore road,
A court stands on one side
Spitting justice
From both sides of the judge's mouth
And on the other,
A hospital gazes at the victims
Society has injured in their toils
prescribing from a pharmacopoeia of placebos.
This is the centre of the city
Which Donald named
The millennium park.

Sunday, February 21, 2016
Topic(s) of this poem: nature
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