Chiaroscuro ballerina,
Rond de jambe in chaînés
Jeté, jeté
Grand jeté
Mariana Anesidora,
Viperine eyes speaking in
Adamantine lies
Forbidden apple gates
Amina Afrikana,
Runes enjambed in chains
Adamantly denying
Grand sobriquets
Bloomeria sabbara,
Your six-petaled cries sing
"Beaujolais, beaujolais!"
Forbidden pomegranates
Ameituliza nafsi yangu
Mkuu wa yote duniani
Iwapo nitapoteza njia
Najua penzi lake 'tanipata
Anivite kwake, aniite wake
I do not know what I'll find
if I pull off your hijab
Perhaps a cobra lurks to bite
Whose venom will kill wit
I've bared my heart into sonnets
Sadly you will never read them- you aren't lettered
You're rather numbered counting naira notes
by the fireside where you fry awara
but I know you'll listen to my eyes
that tells the number of stars
exploding within by this stuttering tongue and frosted sweat
thawing under the radiance of your dimples.
In the dark corner where the cry of almajiri crowns the night
I will be waiting to elope with you arm in arm via our eyes with wings
where we can stand above the earth with every altitude heavenward
veiling the steeple and the minaret.
You blend the colours
Mix then match
Converting our sorrows
Painting the plain
Mending fabrics
Of fragile minds
Soothing them with tender stitches
To befit the grieving souls
We sang you a tune
setting you in a calming stillness
As you blend thunder
With peculiar lightening
Striking a volcanic boulder
Unraveling a blunder
within a thickened tangle
That has spread its webs of despair
wedging Freedom Street
Roy retelling a story of his so-journey
to the land of splendor the land of light
there our Roy stated his case and found favor
amina thanks giving prayers offered in good time
would soon offer comfort and solace to our Roy
Roy claims them heavenly creatures
said to him.. if ever you are to evade the trap
of disease, poverty and the lack of essential then
you to become a worshiper of money and materialism
banainganya mfano hela... its the worship of money
Roy the first to embrace the light declared
never ever will i worship money or materialism
Mola who is the supreme creator Roy now worships
our Roy suffers no need or want.. MOLA nakupenda sana..
an intonation to Roy's love for the supreme creator... amin
lewis k nyaga
In the morning I stepped out
upon a snow of tears.
I looked up at the sky
to see the clouds dropping
their share of melancholy
for Mary, Martha and Margaret
and for those left behind
by their runaway husbands.
At noon, still walking,
I turned at the noise
from a nearby window,
a battered wife weeping
the awnings of infidelity
tears hidden behind a wall.
Tears for all the women
that husbands no longer cherish,
who look out the window
Janet, Julian and Judith
let them stand for others
who hurt in silence.
At night I dreamed
of all the women slapped
shoved and thrown out
like unwanted items
hurled overboard
Amina, Amaka and Anthonia
names that reap rivers of regrets
names that answer to the call of hope
names that smile to hide the pain
and tears that run through green veins
of our mothers and sisters.
Tears flowing like dams
tears huddled up in dim caves
tears in the tiny eyes of a rose.
For no matter where I look,
there`s a woman shedding tears
somewhere in the dark.
Rise up black woman and you all of other colours
Rise up and grab your fallen baton
Passed down from the hand of heroines past
Rise up from the grave Amina Zazzau
The lioness who hunted for lions to eat
Rise up lest her exploits be forgotten
Rise up to sheer bravery of Aba women
Whose nudity deadened men’s manhood
And broke the chains and shackles of injustice
Rise up to the gallantry of the Dahomey women
Whose fists waded off mighty warriors
And secured a kingdom and its men
Rise up in the spirit of Pupupu
She who was first to ascend a throne
And berthed the Ondo kingdom
Rise upin the spirit of Efunroye Tinubu
A lone voice that drowned the voices of million of men
Whose wealth fuelled the economy of Egba nation
Rise up in the power of Moremi
The woman who dared what men feared
To unravel the liberated her people
Rise up in the spirit of Funmilayo Kuti
The tigress who retreated before nobody
Rise up in the spirit of Sawaba
The nanny goat that played host in lion’s den
Rise up girls and women
From your kitchens, markets, stalls and offices
Rise and keep up the dream of
The golden palms that rocked our cradle
In the thickets of the forests and grooves
On the paths through the deserts and the wild
Walked in the robe of nobility
The one who defied the wind and tidal wave
Who throned on a mighty white horse
Decked in regalia of a consummate conqueror
A blue-blooded woman that ascended a throne
In the reign of men, under a the glare of a proud race
Her power and dominion beyond the great Elizabeth
Her rule grim and firm than Margaret Thatcher’s
The wind and wave did her bidding at battlefronts
She was ruthless and wise in governance
Her sword thrusted to the sand blood and hearts of men at war
Bent on conquest she knew no defeat
Bu spoils, plunders of warriors, kings and horses
She held court over men of wisdom and age
She dispensed justice with dispassion
She rode home in triumphant sound of trumpets
To the waiting arms of loyal subjects and servants
In the days when women stood in full heights.
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