Best Fatherland Poems
Flowers of peace are now magnificently blossoming
In the gardens of the battlefields of Khartoum and Kinshasa.
And roses of tranquillity and order slowly blooming
In the flower pots of Kigali’s sorrowful genocide cites.
The smoke of dead gun-fire still flies
In the skies of the outskirts of Monrovia and Abidjan.
But live sporadic gunfire persistently lightens
In the troubled skies of Bunjumbula and Mogadishu.
Hot waters of hunger, starvation and suffering still pour
On the heads of Harare and Adisababa.
And the lines of untold poverty are still drawn
Across the villages of Lilongwe and Bamako.
The string of absolute monarchy is still tight
Around the political circles of Mbabane.
And the chains of an authoritarian state
Still hang around the neck of Innocent Tripoli.
Freedom then denied to free civilians
Is now freely enjoyed by freer people of Freetown.
But the rights of free civilians in Banju
Are tightly held in a knot of military dictatorship.
The barrels of guns of power hungry politicians
Are now silent in the roads of Brazzaville.
But northern villages and jungles of Kampala
Are still infested with the disease of rebel attack.
Maputo and Luanda are now being built
Out of the mud of the longest and brutal wars.
And the dirty white walls of the hated apartheid
Are now being splendidly painted black in Johannesburg.
The smell of peace, progress, poverty and panic surely hangs
In the corners of my sincerely beloved fatherland.
And the wave of sickness, suffering and starvation still hits
The peoples of my dear beautiful Fatherland.
There was never a land sweeter than Bamenda
Nor a land so full of honey: Buea
Full of a consanguineous race
A people garnished by love and commensurateness
A people though battered to smithereens
Never for once have cast adrift their rectitude
There was never a land so full of stoicism like Bamenda
Though maimed, have never wept
Though battered, have never laid low
Though shot, have never remained obeisant
But have always stood up when though dead,
To beat her chest and shout, “I AM BAMENDA”
There was never a land so cherished like Southern Cameroons
That for freedom’s sake
Anglophones would joyfully forfeit their lives
And just as richly put by G.N Gwangwa’a
“If an Anglophone should die,”
Then let him die fighting
Preach these in the streets of Yaoundé
And let it be sung in the halls in Douala
That there was never a proud race like the oppressed Anglophones
Who for freedom’s sake,
Would willingly lay down their lives
There was never a land so blessed like Ambazonia
Where milk and honey flows;
Never a people so conscious of equality
And while the white and blue flag waves from Buea Mountain
Anglophones embrace freedom.
Temajung Michael T. [B.A]
Fatherland
I have no home, no fatherland,
I am a soldier with no weapons,
No worldly goods can tie me down,
My paths lead me into distances grey.
Trenches are my bed,
The starry skies of the universe
Will cover me when nights are cold.
I shall write invisible letters
On clouds of cigarette smoke
And remember times full of grace
When groves were awakening in spring;
Only memories remain there,
The tranquility of souls will not decay.
Bitter thoughts have built barriers,
Fields will bleed in spasms -
A safe haven for a hero of the fatherland.
Let the feature fly
And the wings beat
Because this is Nigeria
Nigeria! Nigeria! So high
Nigeria! Nigeria! The dream of a future very bright
Nigeria! Nigeria! So fit
Nigeria! Your greatness you meet
Nigeria! Your greatness we see
And never again to split
Nigeria! Nigeria!! Nigeria!!!
Never too late the call to answer
never too late the service to render
in patriotism our strength triumph
in piety our loyalty resound
oh, service to father land?
The ravaging feat of the wicked we
solemnly bewail at this time of
national recession. In some
climes of idleness, victory song
of abracadabra quiver
the land but to us, the minority,
not in tribe but in loyalty and
patriotism, it is like the victory of the
fleeting star whose triumph does
not last. The new temple lacks the
sacred touch of the ancient and yet
its transient glow gladdens the youth whose
mien cannot but pamper modernity.
Wait not for too long, father land!
your children, your true children
will come from the far conner
of the earth and beautify you
not too long from now
in true service we shall arise and
sing the sacred royal anthem
cast with the sacred blood
of our forefathers. We shall serve thee
with our bloods and sweats, our tears
shall make thee happy. The season
of the lepers draws so soon to
its end and in preparedness
we wait to give our best to
the greatness of thee, Oh fatherland!
The future farmers are begging for bread,
I see their seed sinking in the sea of sorrow,
our elders are behind, no one to follow.
On the pillow of pain hope lays his head.
Tomorrow is gone; it died in the past.
Today is filled with mess and mysteries,
yesterday is not found in our histories...
We are swimming in this stormy blast.
Children and youth have nothing to learn,
our mothers have murdered morality;
and our falling fathers fake reality...
Leaving posterity to yell and yearn.
Nothing is lost, we have nothing to find;
darkness shines brighter than the light.
There is no war, we need not fight;
the beautiful ones were born blind.
Which way Nigeria, wake up dear fatherland,
You were a king, you were much more...
All I see now is the stinking sore
of a starving slave in a sinking sand?
Copyright 2014 Adeleke Adeite
Very funny how it is easy to be lonely in a city of millions
Very Crazy how it all goes from bustling and noisy
To killing the night in a cold-blooded silence
The night becomes so silent
The beat of my heart screams louder
Than a pregnant woman in labour
At a General Hospital with no electricity power supply
A simple indication that once again
I am back to the trenches of my loneliness
Where thoughts of what tomorrow holds
In a faulty system
Hunts my mental health
Rapes my subconscious
And leaves my hope hopeless
Praying crosses my mind
But that will be me joining millions to pray amiss
Maybe I just need a willing to cheat Miss
To come fill my lonely night with sonorous moans of pleasure
!
My pocket cannot sponsor my desire for pleasure
Maybe I should end it all
Once and for all
©ABSOL
When I die let me buried
Only in that land I love
Amid the wide spread plain
Where termites live and own
Though with the blood of foes
Lying in that grave I’m home
Many would laugh at my plea
And wonder why I would seek
And long for all that seem lost
But while I fly to the sky
Below would I see my fatherland
Oh why shouldn’t I be buried
In that swamps where I grew up
Among children with no pants
Or even shoes to call their own
Where we slept on hard floors
Or tattered mats we call bed
Now I’m all grown and far off
I still want a feel of that all
To breathe in the dry air
Of a dusty harmattan wind
that sweeps around our huts.
In my dreams;
I see the malicious red flames lick away our prized possessions
and we watched mesmerized,
while it destroyed years of labor.
Years of slavery by our fathers of old
years of suffering by the weak; the coward
years of struggle by the fearless; the bold.
drums of sweat; drums of blood
it was the ransom for our possessions paid
the warm victory earned by a sweat of blood
the wicked raging fire now consumes.
As my eyes this painful sight beheld,
I feel a dull ache in my heart,
choking sobs wrench my throat.
Just then, I start from the bed,
it had been a dream; a nightmare
No, I had dreamt in reality
and the dull ache grows
till it resonates with the sound of pounding pestles.
The red flame was our greed
our possessions; our dignity, honesty, and personality
once again we sold ourselves into slavery, a bondage of freedom.
My heart shatters and I weep for my fatherland
My gaze fixed as it were on the raging flames
I see the smug faces of my fathers
lay curse as they gnash their teeth in pain
angry at the heritage that made fools of them
Silently they watch us suffer
and trampled on by strangers
I crouch in fear, trembling, sweating
and I say a word of prayer,
a plea for help, just for my fatherland.
From Naija I hail
Across tough and turbulent tides I've sailed
My country, a hardening ground for life
prepares you for the world's untold strife
From Naija I learnt
Not to give in though life stretches you at both lenghts
For it pulls you apart to live
So you can in every situation have thanks to give
From Naija I've known
That the rumblings of a man is for his own
To offer comfort in his home with parity
From whence starts care and charity
From Naija I hold
That some things stay constant as untold
laughter in lack and peace with it
The earth beneath that wont quake even when trouble sits
From Nigeria I'll ascend
For what goes up in here never will descend
And its joy to know am nearer up there
Than those whom the law of gravity has taken care
Form:
God bless our noble fatherland, great land of sunshine bright, where brave men chose the way of peace, to win their freedom fight, may we preserve our purity, our zest life and jolity, God bless our noble countrymen. and women everywhere, teach them to walk in unity. to build our nation dear, forgetting region, tribe or religion. but being our brother's keeper and living in harmony.
FATHER LAND
Think not to impress her with cheap words,
nor with tactics of a teenage boy,
hoping to see the conquest of a glamazon.
To sniff her fragrance,
is to break through an army.
nothing but a feat of derring-do.
Formed in the fiercest of fire,
she is emerging,
from the merry-go-round.
Only the qualified,
pilots her affairs henceforth.
the gloves are coming off.
To serve is to love, nurture and teach.
peace, transparency and justice,
marinaded in one bowl.
Great lofty heights she demands,
in love, truth and honesty.
She is my country.
Standing confidently optimistic.
no more mendacious tales,
no more sour taste.
For Fatherland
In a country to near the Arctic Circle
every new generation -men and women- had to
throw pebbles into a lake,
until the lake was full and you could wade over,
Alas, a bridge was built,
so futile the pebbles.
Now they are learning how to throw a hand grenade in Afghanistan
and draw funny pictures of Mohammad,
pity about the bridge.
God bless our noble fatherland, great land of sunshine bright, where brave men chose the way of peace, to win their freedom fight, may we preserve our purity, our zest life and jolity, God bless our noble countrymen. and women everywhere, teach them to walk in unity. to build our nation dear, forgetting region, tribe or religion. but being our brother's keeper and living in harmony.
God bless our noble fatherland, great land of sunshine bright, where brave men chose the way of peace, to win their freedom fight, may we preserve our purity, our zest life and jolity, God bless our noble countrymen. and women everywhere, teach them to walk in unity. to build our nation dear, forgetting region, tribe or religion. but being our brother's keeper and living in harmony.