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Best Africa Poems

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Details | Africa Poem | |

MY AFRICA, UNITE TO REWRITE HER STORY

Africa; the land of great ancient myths
With culture diversified, but united mythos.
Traced to bear the ancestry of man
With the found evidence of modern humans.

Africa; like a rule of dynasty bestrides the equator
And encircles diverse unending climate sector
Stretching in awe-inspiring from the North Temperate Zone
Exuding the composite satellite imagery to the Southern pole.

Africa; a resource-rich and second-largest continent
With abundant natural resources that makes it pertinent
To the international community, especially the West
Such that they always want her to be their conquest.

Africa; they much talk about her in the global arena
But always present a mirror image of her aura.
They envy her diamonds, gold, coal, cocoa, and crude oil
That they glow while she mangles herself in turmoil.

Africa; whose stories are always told in a horrible manner
And images portrayed like all she holds is poverty and hunger.
But we know Africa is fascinating, invigorating, and amazing
With her azure clouds and vivid green lands that are unending.

Africa; embossed in awe moist grayness and magnificent mountains
With swirling long-lasting waterfalls stimulating her fountains
And inter alia scenic view of hills and crystal beaches
That marvels the tourists, and geologists see her as a peach.

Africa; muddled in kleptomania that has left her in wanton hardship
And her people glued to delusions that wash up their craftsmanship
Such that they often let her down by being unable to see
The aura of mystery in her versatile resources given by nature for free.

Africa; still muddling through despite the variegated challenges she faces
Needs her people to be well articulated and embrace with a game face
The clarion call that the time is long overdue to unite to rewrite her stories
For only Africans can tell better the untold stories about Africa’s histories.

Africa; I look at the east, west, north, central and south
I hear; and I see the youths strutting; and yelling for change in loud shouts
For they’re tired of bad governments, rebels, militants, genocide and warring
For their future is not of hatred, food crisis, diseases, but devoid of suffering.

Details | Africa Poem | |

Children of the Valleys

And as the hills yonder 
Turned red from sunset rays
As darkness engulfed the valley
And the sweet sounds of birds
Rent the cool evening air

Our cows and sheep and goats 
Hurried down the footpath
As though they were late
To a gathering of clans
Or to one of their own

And we the happy herds' boys
Turned our ravenous thoughts
To bananas yams and milk
And all available munch-able stuff
To calm our restless tummies

And as the evening metamorphosed into night
And the stars of the sky reclaimed their might
We the famished children of the valleys
Approached the fireside with widening eyes
As the roughshod soldiers laid claim to all
And shot in the air to frighten us all.

And so we watched with pangs of hunger 
Training our wrath and rancor and dismay
To other sons and daughters of Africa
Who for reasons best known to them
Or known only to their heartless handlers
Proclaimed themselves ‘defenders of our freedom.’


Voila! Children of the valleys of Africa
And of the cities and slums of Africa
You who gather in the evening breeze
After torrid days in the fields and streets
Only to return to a darkening sky
Sans food sans wear sans light. Voila! 

Details | Africa Poem | |

New Dawn

As I roll out of bed tomorrow
I’m gonna say goodbye sorrow
Fare thee well Mr. Cynicism
See you later Mr. Pessimism
Adios to Mr. Skepticism
Exit negativity, enter positivity
No procrastination and inactivity 
An idle mind is the devils workshop
That’s why I’ll exert myself nonstop
No more misery and depression
As exuberance replaces dejection
Success is around the corner
It’s coming now and not later
Victory is surely heading my way
No matter what people may say
I quit banking my future on luck
Time has come to break the duck
A new dawn has shown its face
My home will be a better place
I’m a potential winner, a true born victor
Within me lies a superstar, a megastar
No I’m not building castles in the air, 
I’m not dreaming, I’m not hallucinating
I have to earn my place in history
Put a good ending to my unfinished story
My story is about confidence, not arrogance
I advocate humility, not vanity
Trials and tribulation come and go
Sticky situations are not unique to you
But we all know as well as you do
You need hard work and determination 
For the youth, education is the only solution
You’ve got to make the decision
To extract yourself from destitution 
Leave nothing at all to chance
For fortune favours the brave
No sweet without sweat, no pain, no gain
Each time you fall recollect and try again
A dream doesn’t become reality through magic
Lazy genius is not only sad but also tragic
Stay focused, keep your eyes on the prize
There is no substitute for hard work
There are no secrets to success
Only in the dictionary does success precede work
We are all gifted, skilled and talented 
Unshackle that innate ability 
Let loose that latent capability
I’m gonna prepare, plan and plot
Execute and give it my best shot
Until the day that I hit the jackpot

Details | Africa Poem | |

Conversation

I saw you walking towards me and as you came near,
I became aware my bag was open and tried to subtly tuck it, closed under my arm.
You looked at me with a smile that said more than hello,
put your hands up beside your head, an exaggerated gesture of peace, and walked on.
I dropped my eyes.

You stayed with me all of that day.

I told you how small it made me feel, that you had seen your reflection in my eyes and recognised an altered image.
I apologised deeply for the fact that you saw this image, reflected a hundred times a day,
I wondered what that might do to me,
and understood your sarcasm, why you wanted me to feel ashamed,
and I told you that I did.

I recounted a story a man once told, about travelling and seeing a young boy,
with ice blue eyes, and blonde hair, cleaning the urinals he was about to use,
and how uncomfortable this made him,
not because there was someone cleaning the urinals,
but because, this someone had blue eyes, and blonde hair,
which meant the boy was better than him.
He realised he believed this,
as a sophisticated man,
and he didn’t know how to change it,
it was what he had always been told.

I remembered some one telling me,
she felt no shame in stealing from me,
because all I had, I only had through thievery.

I spoke about hearing a man talk to a crowded room,
saying that he acknowledged the fact,
that he only had what he had,
because others were deprived,
that he has benefited and continues to,
by standing on the backs of others who were forced onto their knees.
I remember a women in the crowd,
who thanked him,
with emotion heavy in her voice, she thanked him,
and told him he had healed a part of her,
by owning his privilege.
I wondered aloud what owning this meant,
and if it came with a responsibility.

I told you that I felt dirty,
when spoken to as if I were older than I am.

I remembered someone who I considered a friend,
telling me he would kill me, for skin alone,
if a civil war broke out.

I spoke to you about the woman,
who told me she was successful,
and she was educated,
and somehow it felt like, and was secretly considered, a betrayal,
a rejection of the self,
and sometimes she hated her success,
and that she was split inside herself.

I tried to make coherent sense of the many exchanges I have had,
with myself and others,
about shame, about guilt, about anger,
about silence,
about a solution,
and I cried,
we cried,
and I told you that I wished,
we could have this conversation.

Details | Africa Poem | |

While You Sleep

While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly 
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.

Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel, 
And so before it I choose to kneel.

I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.

I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.

I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.

My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.

Details | Africa Poem | |

Wake Up Oh Africa

With the heavy load you suffer a substance not needed yet drags you cushioning your efforts and deterring your pace, forgetting that the Train is already moving with passengers determined for this journey. Why get so distracted by passers-by focused to catch up? Why are you tossed side to side, putting you each time, a step backwards? Can't you realize that the Train is already moving with passengers determined for this journey? It seems you are the only one left and this is solely your doing with no one to blame and the rest, definitely have no added advantage over you. So stop acting weak cos the Train is already moving with passengers determined for this journey. Wake up oh Africa! you get your independence just to become a volunteer slave. You live in a Mansion yet have no place to sleep. Stop acting like a bucket of Crabs killing each other just to get out and copy the ants united and networking for a common cause. You fight for just a coin underneath the Table. When on it is a box full of this same treasure. Despite knowing how to reach out to its top, you neglect such knowledge and accept conflicts, violence and wars. Settling for good enough is worst than being bad you blow your trumpet when you make a step out of a thousand more. You show unbelievable contentment to mediocrity and under-achievements, but remember this! Half a giant is no giant at all. You have the breast plate of protection and all the arsenals to battle yet you dine with the helms of poverty and embrace the ambassadors of all kinds of infirmities. You walk around naked and seem not to bother oh Africa! Do you exist to actualize all these negativity? An expert of imitation and a professional in copying no wonder no matter your trys you end up as number 2 at best. Because you've neglected the sweetness of your originality. You milk your cattle to nourish the west you harvest your crops to feed foreign stomachs you stand on abundant humus yet your leaves are yellow and dry. Exactly what will happen to the ants if their Queen puts their fate on the lizards is what will befall you not until you wake up oh Africa!

Details | Africa Poem | |

TO

DAY

Details | Africa Poem | |

Dreams

Le Cuzoul D’ Armand a cave of valor inhabited by Jean-Baptiste Noulet 
It held a bronze bead necklace, more valuable than the bijouterie Monet 

Ancient village of Penne, dominated by the ruins of a 12th century fortress 
This cave full of admirable bounty, in Holocene era, was a Zareba buttress

As the object of my dreams, I would have loved to be famous explorer’s peer  
Searching for long forgotten artifacts, mysterious writings of ancestral pioneers 

Discovering the places where Monolithic rocks of Africa, stand proud in grandeur 
Yes, I would weather the hovel of dry muskly caves to satiate curiosity and fervor 

When it comes to Archeology of old, I love old pieces that contain transparent energy 
There is magic in a pivotal moment such as finding a necklace, it evokes pure synergy 

February 17, 2014
Contest: Dreams for Shadow Hamlton 

Details | Africa Poem | |

Princess Fairy Silver


In the land of Jasmine Valley
Lived a fairy of repute
Her glow was of soft silver
And she lived among the fruit
Of the Roses and the peaches
And her beauty was renowned
Wherever folk did speak of love
Her name it could be found.

Yet fairy silver {That’s her name}
She could not speak at all
For a wicked witch it seems
Had treated her real cruel
And placed a nasty curse on her
Which made her voice go mute
She was a wicked witch indeed
There‘s none that would refute.

She was loved by all around her
For love was all she knew
The wild beasts gathered round her
And all the flowers knew
Of the loveliness within her
It made them want to grow
You should have seen that fairy
With her lovely, silver glow.

One day an Elfin gentleman
Came riding on a steed
A beast of purest, pristine white
Of a strong and noble breed.
He was a handsome man indeed
A Prince among his folk
And always laughed with all his subjects
With them he’d share a joke.

One day he spotted Fairy Silver
She was there among her flowers
The Elfin Prince he gazed at her
And felt such benign power
That strong compulsion overtook him
He Kissed her on the cheek
So then this lovely fairy maid
She made as if to speak.

As she did this such sweet music came
And flowed from her sweet lips
The Fairy she burst forth with song
The Elf’s soft heart just flipped
He asked the Fairy “Oh maid of beauty
Oh please do marry me”.
She looked into his deep blue eyes
He felt such ecstasy.

And now the two, they live together
For they be man and wife
The princes speaks her words of beauty
In a land so free from strife
As the two they rule the elfin Lands
And the two lands come together
And peace and harmony do reign
As the two they love forever.

Details | Africa Poem | |

Tiara in Her

This picture I pick is not her own,
It could be for a bimbo or a night trig. 
This picture with me is not her own,
It could be for a sissy or a bleaching wig.
This picture I hold is not her own,
It could be for a lousy or a neglected lass.
This picture with me is not her own,
It could be for a demon or a girlie class.

This picture I pick is no doubt her own,
It's obvious in her spotless face and her passionate grin.
This picture with me is really her own,
It's obvious in her modest crown and her sincere chin.
This picture I hold is no doubt her own,
It's obvious in her ideal stroll with her gorgeous rose.
This picture with me is really her own,
It's obvious in her charming blouse and her classy pose.



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