Voice Of Nkporo Poem by John Chizoba Vincent

The voice echoes from the beginning
It is gradually fallen down.
When would that Land be remembered for favour?
More than one hundred and fifty years of existence
The roads still cry and roughness feasted on it.
The dust welcome us home during Christmas
IT coloured our lips when we never need lipstick.
We have but only one voice speaking in the crowded street
Nkporo should be visited like other homes.
We need a touch to redefined the excellence spirit of the traditions.