Best Fulani Poems
I am....
An Ashanti warrior A Bantu dancer
I am a Yoruba royal clothed in my Asooke
Dancing Adowa and kpalogo to tunes from wulomei and masekela
I am proud Masai
Standing around manyattas,
Jumping to melodies from the olaranyani
Eunoto is here and today I dance in front my peers in transition into a senior warrior
Oh how sweet the African rhythms
Imprudently lifting and soul soothing
Sisala sebrew on Akan drums
Highlife explorations unending on opus 1.
I am an Ewe woman
From the lineage of Nerfetiti
And a great great ....grand daughter of Nandi
My Gèle will never fall off
My Dashiki will never fade out
I am a Fulani herdsman
Wandering the Sahel plains of Africa
Along with a fellow Malinke brother
Who speaks fluent igbo and today we revisit our roots in Nok
I’m from Gao
320 km east-southeast of Timbuktu.
A descendant of Sonni Ali ,
Reciting the epic of Sundiata with intertwining soothing kora melodies from Kandia Kouyate
Oh how dazzling the African landscape
And glorious it's Heritage
Such rekindling and Homeric folklores
And a boundless diverse cultures
I am the African dream
mother's only son my father’s only daughter
I'm the incantations of royal fetish and message behind the talking drum
I am the African noble
Free from identity torment
I know of my glorious past and my colourful future
My city will bleed no more
Never again will i be a wanderer
I know my culture
And my alluring language
Ah how powerful the African names
Araba Termytorphe and Ifedayo chant in unity
Diallo Sissoko and Achiaa bestow serenity
Mbali and Lamisi elegantly wore their kente
Tonight we dance to tunes from the kete
For Yaa Asantewaa never gave up the fight
So we lift our hearts with emancipated minds
To reach new heights ! O’ Nana Nyame,
May you forever guide us with your light .
The westerners eat Amala and Ewedu
We eat Akpo and Ofe Nsala
They dance Juju and Apala
We dance bongo and atilogwu the beat of life.
T^he Northerners speaks hausa whilst we speak igbo
They married with no bride price and dowry
But we marry with bride price and huge dowry.
Cut the man"s hair low, short to remind him That
Marriage is never a bed of roses therefore he must look
After our pride, princess, prestigious priceless pretty queen
Who must painstakingly bear his name abandoning her
Humble background and journey with him amidst roses and bullets.
They wear buba and agbada in an architectural design
Darshiki from the north domain whilst we wear Ukwu george
They plate shoku, koroba and kpatawo and make beads round their neck
Igbo speak, yoruba frown, hausa dance, itskiri watch
Kanuri laugh, Ebira smile, Nupe point, Tiv demonstrate Fulani pick.
Idoma cry, Awori cry, Efik console, Ibibio comfort
Yet Unity we stand despite the cultural diversity.
One for all, all for one, we stand.
Bound to the humble land in hundred fold
Relevant is our culture and tradition
In defend shall we die and perish for our
Precious country.
TO MY MOM DADA ZOUWAIRATOU M YAUKI
THE TRUEST HAUSA-FULANI
The iron core of the whole family
She stands with the long rooster
First crow which tears up, praying, and
Goes on laboring till the owl grave hoots
Herald the veiling darkness and darkness
Is life, and might.
But also death and weakness.
The hoots made me feel so small when
A child, and think of mother to soothe me,
For I had fears, and my people's fears were
Forced upon me too.
Sorcerers!
Magic!
Backwardness!
Moronity!
Death!
The twain Angels
Of life after Death!
Dream of stars, my eyes fully open
To start
Away from my tiny world full of fairy tales
With the spider as the hero as running
From the ghosts
Oh, Allah! Lost before standing on my feet!
I like my mom and she likes me too.
She prays Allah to grant me success
And I ask Him to forgive her, for
She’s always been my surest support
Of course she hadn’t been to school
But was a school herself. Proud
Greedy reader, my friend, be sure that
She’s as divine as your MOST perfect mother.
A FULANI GIRL’S COMPLAINT
I carried water. I did all the house cores. I drove and bred the cattle one and alone, singing songs, running and climbing mountains. I milked, sold milk and bought you silk. I ground the corn and cooked your meals. I woke up on the peak of the seasons and carried duties; I did all these to be given to a wild hard-looking stranger like a cowry!
I spent my whole youth among trees and beasts in eloquent silence away from siblings, aloof! I learned and loved God through things that spoke to me, indented, with neither paper nor pen. I wore a strange hat and a stiff piece of cloth that fell on my knees revealing my bony legs; I had strings knotted around my waists and wrists and neck to be betrothed to a wild hard-looking stranger who swept me as if I were a cow for sale, reaped my inward garment and damned my virtue! His words are swords; his horn is a worm that eats in me, wholly!
Oh, Aunt! You fastened my tongue and sold me like Dauda’s slave who would quit me by day leaving me starved, empty bottles and pockets in Gbaya’s tins. Aunt, don’t care the whips, the solitude, the empty stomach, the hands that hurt like electrical cords, but, my aunt, his words are worse than swords and I miss my olden days, the twilight, the humanly beasts I forsook for the beastly human, mother’s looks that hook the heart, oh, I miss my old self!
Galim (Tignère), April 22, 2012
Jaafar Sadig El Waad
There once was a fulani man,
whose cow was in society ban'.
He bought for't a book
which is greenish in look.
"These are leaves" said the fulani man.
Tatizo letu sisi kama sisi ni kwamba hatuna elimu lakini ni wajuaji
Tatizo letu sisi kama sisi ni kwamba hatutaki kutembea bali kukimbia
Tatizo letu sisi kama sisi ni kwamba hatushibi,
Tunakula mpaka tunajamba
Tuna ujeuri usiokuwa na faida
Tuna ujeuri usiokuwa wa kawaida
Na tunaona ni sawa tu.
Tatizo letu sisi kama sisi ni wanafiki, Tunasema ndio kumbe tunamaanisha la
Tatizo letu sisi kama sisi ni wavivu, hatuoni maana ya kuchapa kazi, Sio kufanya kazi bali kuchapa kazi Tuna ujeuri usiokuwa na faida
Tuna ujeuri usiokuwa wa kawaida
Na tunaona ni sawa tu.
Tatizo letu sisi kama sisi hatupendani, Tunathamini watu wa nje kuliko wa ndani Chakushangaza hata hawa ndugu zetu kina nyani Huwa wanapeana heshima fulani
Tuna ujeuri usiokuwa na faida
Tuna ujeuri usiokuwa wa kawaida
Na tunaona ni sawa tu.
Sisi kama sisi hatuwezi kuendelea
Maana tayari kizazi chetu kimeshapotea
Wale waliobaki kazi yao kubwa ni kuwaonea na kuwatendea wale wenzao wanao wategemea
Ule ujeuri usiokuwa wa kawaida na faida sasa umebaki kutuzomea
Na tunaona ni sawa tu.
© SMS
Who Can?
Paints a Fulani maiden
With creamy calabash hawking 'fura de nunu',
A tall nomad, pole stretches on his long shoulders
Hold in place with hanging fingers like broom,
Being on a nowhere long way, wave on a transistor;
A cajole broad face,
Scowling amongst bushy extended beard;
A narrow umbrella sombrero
Tip at right elfish ear,
Shepherding towering cattle in perpendicular;
Munching down uppermost greens, with heighten horns
Traveling in lengthen distance,
Who can?
Who can?
Depict heavenly masquerade typhoon by gods;
Leaping, flying with flashing whips,
The satyr opened dark tunnel throat
And fangs all coloured with crimson;
Dear deer full of affected blinks,
Innocent mirth on polish promise horns.
Shawaï!
Born struggling for bread and butter on the way to the barren land
Where Adama’s warriors settled like saviors with Fulani to spread the Nation
And implant Fulani’s mingled tradition burying indigenous cultures with the edge of
Their swords and the spade of convincing myths, with detriment to the creed.
Born to bear the burdens of his family, his name and awe-inspiring personality.
Of middle height, not light, a grave face oft-changing, tranquil in prayers
And meditation but on meeting all and sundry walking slowly, but lively
He neither cared about the foes howling like bees each striving to strike hard
Nor was he involved in the poor scratching of the stars to foretell the Unknown.
Keen on reading the Book he inspired fears and demanded reverence
Hardworking he chose to be a shepherd, a laborer, a teacher, a retired believer
Grinding his beads too, and working on the farm, and opposing
Injustice whenever need be, keeping the family tie and mending the nations
Patches refusing abuses of power and declining the rich men tendency to
Rule the laws, he stood firmly against the excesses and in working he passed
Away.
Malefactor of our mighty land
Guile do they practice from them, beat
Skank do they drop on our prior rand
Their soul's the people reprimand
Like flies rejecting a rust feet
Malefactor of our mighty land
Drive them from our inunct land
Like Fulani cattle being hit
Skank do they drop on our prior rand
Sweep out before broth turns our hand
Like cobwebs cleaned out of room neat
Malefactor of our mighty land
Their tongue festooned with sweet canard
Embellished with tear thorns their teeth
Skank do they dump on our prior rand
When they continue being rotund
We the citizens turns unfit
Malefactor of our mighty land
Skank do they dump on our prior rand
In the fantasizing brains of all Nigerian Fulanis,
Including their kindergarten still urinating on nannies;
All the entries and exits within country’s Aso Rock
To keep obeying their adjustable, Fulani clock!
Presently, the unstoppable aspiration of the Purest Hausa teens
Recklessly announcing the same to their napkins:
The Achilles Heel of the Brazilian Football Team,
Easily her ruinous tears commanding,
When she should a loser’s smile beam,
This, thorough Good Breeding demanding.
By the United States beautifully masked,
In her playing of Uncle Tom, enormously tasked;
Her millions of Dollars readily releasing
A loved President, the next election, losing!
To nearly every deprived tribe
Something to fight with the fattest bribe
Or surrender with a loaded gun
Making sure it doesn’t away run!
I’ve tried to The Mentality justify,
Baring a Bible verse that does it fortify…
Or so to me it had seemed
Or, probably, I has deemed…
‘The Elder shall serve The younger’…
And God must’ve, the service years, made longer!
What trigger people to kill?
why do people hate?
why is the world full of wickedness?
question
Rhetorical questions
No more love
No more brothers keeper but brother killer
Fight everywhere
bombing and death
blood everywhere
homeless ,helpless
yet full of expectations
heavy drop of tears
flowing heavily
The wounded cry in agony
waiting to be heard
top make promises
fake not real
when will it be real?
fear of death grip thy heart
destruction,disaster
is what we get
No day that passes without fear
why do fulani herdsmen kill?
why the bombing?
safe thy self
how?
What trigger people to kill?
why do people hate?
why is the world full of wickedness?
question
Rhetorical questions
No more love
No more brothers keeper but brother killer
Fight everywhere
bombing and death
blood everywhere
homeless ,helpless
yet full of expectations
heavy drop of tears
flowing heavily
The wounded cry in agony
waiting to be heard
top make promises
fake not real
when will it be real?
fear of death grip thy heart
destruction,disaster
is what we get
No day that passes without fear
why do fulani herdsmen kill?
why the bombing?
safe thy self
how?
SOMETIME I FEEL LIKE SHOUTING---WAKATI FULANI NATAKA KUPIGA KELELE-
katika mwanga wa jua-
hata katika mvua
Bwana nataka kupiga kelele jina lako
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
again, again and again
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
again and again
Lord I feel like lifting you up in praise
Oh, Lord feel like lifting you up in praise
Again all day always...just want to shout out your name
in the sunshine-
even in the rain
Lord I feel like shouting your name
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
again and again
Again all day always...just want to shout out your name
in the sunshine-
even in the rain
Lord I feel like shouting your name
For you suffered for me with your strips I am free;
Savior you died for me
And in the darkness, in the pain
Lord I feel like shouting your name
God the Father, your Son Jesus came and washed away my sins
Lord I feel like shouting your name
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
again and again
katika mwanga wa jua-
hata katika mvua
Bwana nataka kupiga kelele jina lako
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
again, again and again
Sometimes I feel like shouting, Lord I feel like shouting your name;
8/16/05
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2005, 2019©
To everyone who found himself,
Found himself by looking for the good in others.
The more you try to add value to others,
The more you add value to yourself.
The more I try to plant my SWAP in you,
The more my hectares of farm of SWAP enlarges
And the more I see more about myself
I never saw when I never started.
Saul enrolled for the Gulder Ultimate Search
To search for the lost donkey of his father
And then he found himself
As the first King of Israel.
David laid down his life to be the Fulani boy
Of his family, even though clearly neglected.
Yet, at his duty post he fell in love with God,
He wrote love-letters to God,
Expressing his psalms feelings to God
And also expressed his might
With lions and bears as specimens.
Also, Goliath as his great spring to greatness.
Whatever you can do to refurbish humanity,
Do it with all delight and someday
Your light will so shine before men
That they may see your good works
And glorify your Father which art in Heaven.
Let's create two cities: death and tears,
We'll name our tears shitholes because we've forgotten why we were called so by he whom power rests on his shoulders.
These memories of ours we titled death are fragments of our mistakes left in the bodies of innocent Benue.
Let's bake this situation in hundred feet fold in a foot of messages,
We'll peel and slice our tears to the cries of those blood shattered in the cascading ground of Benue; we've failed ourselves!
If by this mourning we tried to live before we die, we will die before we live.
Leave your breathe in hundred fold and allow your nose to smell rusty agony.
Tears are sweet savor of pains in the eyes.
And Benue's tears cried in the gory melodious hand of Fulani Herdsmen!
If we fail to write to right now, we will right to write wrong days to come.
When the blood of my brothers and sisters and husbands and wives and Children quaked in the darkest street,
We kept mute, run into snail's shell to cry,
We Watch the faces of those killing and smile, remember, Karma is nearer.
I have written to my mother about
My oath I broke yesterday in tears
I have written to my father about the consolation we could have had in mind,
About those skulls that rained like water
About you and me left before the lamp goes off.
We are in between the fingers of a split rock in the forest of manslaughter.
Leave your laughter and search for those broken clay where tears are hidden, grab your portion cos,
it is time to cuddle and cry for our misfortunes in the land of Benue.
Yours Poetically,
©John Chizoba Vincent