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Best Zambian Poems

Below are the all-time best Zambian poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of Zambian poems written by PoetrySoup members

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The Best Zambian Poems

Details | Zambian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Rise And Fall

The sky was never the 
limit for those who sook 
to defy the norm. They 
soar to the highest 
heavens like eagles and 
become one with the 
storm. The staffless 
Moses of the black 
parliament never 
beheld gods in nude 
form. We never beheld 
change in the days of 
warriors that might 
make humanity  
transform. Spiritists and 
scientists war amongst 
themselves to try and 
bring about a god of the 
new age. We collided 
with the soul of an 
atheist and met a nude 
man in his rage. 
Parliament became a 
harlot of the nation and 
sold itself to foreigners 
for free. Poetry and 
song became the 
struggle as bullets 
ripped through the 
hearts of Apartheid 
slavery. Sons and 
daughters were 
imprisoned more than 
they were educated. 
Freedom ended when 
Mandela was set free 
than when he got 
incarcerated. Souls 
were purchased for the 
wealth of pimps in 
armored suits. Rapist 
pastors were 
government spies who 
daily anointed 
brainwashed recruits.  
We became the sheeple 
believing we were 
faithful followers of the 
wolf in cow skin. And 
everyday we witnessed 
the rise and fall of our 
blackness than the rise 
of Satan through sin. 
We. ran away from 
victory than chicken 
legs in a pot of gold. 
God wanted to talk to us 
yesterday and we all 
put him on hold. We 
rapidly sold to the idea 
of becoming fables and 
had our stories untold. 
God took our glory like 
a thief in the night of 
our falling and replaced 
it seven fold. Now gays 
legalize marriages and 
priests rape their 
daughters. We've 
allowed our hearts to 
feel more pain than 
lesbians slain in 
Zambian slaughters. 
The world bore arms 
and lost the war before 
they fought us. Our war 
with drugs was the vain 
battle of the new era. 
Black tore itself apart 
like bad partners, and 
thanked the man in the 
mirror. Caught up in 
these shackles trying to 
relieve myself of these 
battles with self. More 
multi-faceted in the soul 
than African culture and 
Indian wealth. Everyday 
in hospitals and prisons, 
my brothers and sisters 
fight for their health. 
The knowledge of 
power and wisdom 
never gave a black man 
his own strength. Never 
saw the change of 
history before it 
metamorphed before 
us. The generals of the 
satanic age had a 
monumental plan to 
slay  us. The Dutch gave 
way to parciality than 
racial agendas through 
color. The poor fight for 
their meals like dogs in 
a cage and die for their 
valor. Media 
misrepresent the 
disenfranchised and 
legalize their deaths. 
The unity of the 
unemployed poor was 
shaken by a Tsunami of 
jealousy. God give us 
this daily bread, 
because we stole it 
through burglary.

Copyright © Nokturnal Poet Raymond Letsitsa | Year Posted 2014

Details | Zambian Poem | Create an image from this poem.


    Cecil the king of the jungle
How are the mighty fallen
Tributes have come in from all around the world
From the animal and human kingdom
Oh cecil
See the way you were killed
Like a common criminal
 Humans forgot you are a king
Oh Cecil! Oh Cecil!
We weep and mourn for you
Vividly I remember when you strode this earth like a colossus 
Your fame cut across all continents of the world
As far as even the Sambisa forest of Nigeria, Africa
We have all roared, not in joy but in weeping 
I am confused now for it seems humans have become more
Callous than we of the animal kingdom
You will never be forgotten Cecil, 
Your death shall be a cause for justice
We shall continue to fight for animal rights just like humans fight for human rights
Rest in peace my friend and confidant Cecil until when we shall meet again
My name remains Zambo the great lioness of Africa
I end this sad song with a heavy heart.
Zambian jungle weep no more but don’t forget Cecil
Good bye Cecil the great King

Copyright © felix gbemudu | Year Posted 2015

Details | Zambian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Facebook Findings

Facebook Findings

Press and like the number five.

Jane the virgin on Twitter

This spoon takes away
the effects of the shakes

When you get fresh sheets
and you just shaved your legs.

This dude spent eight years
growing a chair

Shannon has exactly 200 friends.

Kakistocracy- government by
the worst available people.

You are convicted by your complicity.

Did Jesus leave us a tip to diabetes?

This is what happens when
you wrap your teeth in
aluminum foil for an hour.

Age your spirits at home.

There are several islands 
atop the falls
and they are Zambian.

There's a lot of gross bullshit
that goes on
in the creative world.

Please like and share

Copyright © Edward Ahern | Year Posted 2016

Details | Zambian Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Christmas in Perspective

The rooster crows early in the Zambian morning.

With subtle sunlight starting to appear on the Horizon, ten year old Dikembe begins 
has journey to gather water for the family from the Luapula River.

With water buckets balanced on the ends of a bamboo stick he carries across his 
shoulders, Dikembe returns to find his Mother starting a fire to fix a sparse 
breakfast for her three children.  The morning sun already beats down on the dusty 
village now alive with life.  The ever present flies are already pestering Dikembe and 
the sores on his limbs.

Dikembe sees the white man on the horizon entering the village by foot, carrying his 
bag of medicines.

Women and children start to form a line at the small hut he will use as his office on 
this day.  For hours, the white man examines one patient after another, 
administering what little medicine he has and offering healthcare advice that he 
knows is not understood and/or will go unheeded.

Dikembe sits in the corner of the hut, watching it all with curiosity.

At the end of the long day, the white man packs up his bag, walks over to Dikembe 
and hands him a piece of gum.  Dikembe smiles and mumbles, “Thank you” in broken 

As he puts the piece of gum into his mouth, Dikembe remembers the stories one
 white man once read to him from a book called the bible, and he thinks, “I love,
 Christmas.  I hope it is this nice again next year.”

Copyright © Joe Flach | Year Posted 2010