Best Motherland Poems
Motherland…
I am a desert, barren and hot.
Hoping for the rain, which I forgot.
Once, I was green, golden, and bright.
Nightingales singing night after night.
My fresh breeze at dawn was ever nice,
Showered me blossoms like paradise.
Year after year, I dressed up in green.
Green and reddish with white in between.
Until I became older than old,
All I have now is darkness and cold.
I lost all of my glory and youth,
Hope death is not the end or the truth.
I had so many kings that were tall,
Now, I am filled with filth that they crawl.
Tired of being a desert that’s old,
Thousands and thousands of years to be told.
Cyrus and Darius lived within me.
Now I am barren; how could it be?
I am now desert far from the sea;
They burned my soul so no one can see.
Empty and lonely, thirsty and dry,
hope for the rain and generous sky.
Hope for someone to answer my cry,
Wash up my tears, and don’t let me die.
I need a hero like the old times,
Come and wash me from all the crimes.
Come to me, my love, my lovely rain,
shower me with love, get rid of pain.
If you come back and shower me, fine
promise I give you, I'll drink your wine.
For me, rain is love; love is my life.
To live without love is endless strife.
I want to become a jungle of love,
making love and being free as a dove.
I am now dying, dying of thirst,
Hope for a drizzle; first thing is first.
1/28/20 Haloo
Note: Motherland is Iran, the birthplace of civilizations, a country with thousands of years of history. In the past forty years, there is a great tension between the government of Iran and the United States. This tension has escalated recently to the point of an imminent war between the two countries. The people in Iran are suffering from an authoritarian government on one side and sanctions and pressure on the other. This humble piece is written to give you the understanding that under a millimeter of skin, we’re all the same, the same humans, and humanities are the same regardless of religion, culture, and geographical background.
Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak
Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept
Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity
Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!
~~~~~~~*******~~~~~~~
Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010
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© Joseph S. Spence, Sr., (Epulaeryu Master) 6/29/2010
All Rights Reserved, Milwaukee, Wisconsin, USA
Ah, to this land of the monsoons
or should it have been the sunsoons?
Yet for frozen land tourists, a tropical hot boon.
Where bullock carts, stray dogs, horse carriages and cows
pedestrians, goats, bikes and rickshaws
scooters, trucks, motorbikes and cabs
all compete together in quirky medley of traffic jams
On crammed roads you could ram into bulls and rams
So brakes forever screeching, the cars forever honking, hooting
while beggers begged and pickpockets could go a' looting on a footing
But where else you'd see, ducks and ponds in the city
buffaloes wallowing in mud without fear or pity!
Urban jungle eh, you'd think with a wink
and in many's esteem this land shan't ever sink.
Then pass the huge expanses of paddy fields and the rice farmers
and next come face to face with those Indian snake charmers!
Ah and the imposing edifice, Tajmahal, one of the seven wonders of the world
is no where else found, nor are the epic himalayas on any map unfurled
except for India, and a whole ocean with her name
The Indian ocean knows and salutes her fame!
As for me, meeting relatives there, is the best best part
then shopping too in each and every crowded mart
shopping like crazy, filling my spree's shopping cart!
A pity I couldn't comprehend
What is happening to my homeland?!
Utter disarray harming my stand
Lives in the clutches of evil hands
The paths we are to walk have no ends
Face demons or bury heart in sand
Bend to the will, the risk in the wind!
To whom would I spill my reprimand?
Motherland, my love is fine and grand
My words of ivory wrap your land
On your sole soil, souls grow and expand
A pity I couldn't comprehend
What is happening to my homeland?!
In cage, dreaming of a promised land
On my life, you have the upper hand
My words if you feel and understand
My pain if you heal and put an end
Rise to a dare and hold a whip hand
The beast took hold of my fairyland
Reins of reign seized by anarchy bands
The world of lies, my ink couldn’t stand
The rain of words beyond my pen's hand
Homeland, if only you apprehend
To your turmoil I can't be offhand
Forgive my passion to a twin land
World of Ivory, my wonderland!
January 17th, 2019
We need to find God, and he cannot be found in noise and restlessness. God is the friend of silence. See how nature-trees, flowers, grass-grows in silence; see the stars, the moon and the sun, how they move in silence…We need silence to be able to touch souls—Mother Teresa [Anjezë Gonxhe Bojaxhiu]
“But Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray.” (Luke 5:16)
In Silence
Her love--she speaks of silence,
without flaws or violence.
Calcutta’s poor whom she served,
this increasingly disturbed.
Simple, free from obsessions
These her only possessions,
a bucket and two saris,
is all she’ll own and carry.
While visiting Darjeeling,
by train saw poor suffering.
Saint Teresa heard the call,
solemn vows; provide for all.
Now known as “Mother” served us
of India for Jesus.
Inner conscience she had sought,
spoke Bengali where she taught.
This a tactical gambit,
chose a white sari habit
with a double blue border,
this she wore for the order.
Touching souls of lives her quest,
without silence there’s unrest.
As stars shine in alliance,
may the wind come in silence.
Motherland (Eclogue)
In the country of my forefathers,
Economy is friendless and upset,
Politics are sleeping with labour,
Justice is seducing foreign crime,
Poetry is turned on, but it fears,
Traditions keeps history hostage,
Religions are attempting suicide,
Nature is busy biting its tongues,
Fruits are swearing at their trees,
Education shows God axis finger,
Seas gets shallow, graves deepen,
Life confront its first nightmares,
Death is satisfying its final desire,
Future is stinking nothing but lies,
June 13, 2003
By Mohlouoa Ntsasa
I love my country Zambia
I am committed to move it forward--
In the areas of good governance and national building
I may go out to another country as visitor--
In pursuit of noble goals for advancement of our nation
I will get knowledge and wealth to supplement our national economy--
From being a consumer market to a manufacturing oriented economy
I love my motherland Zambia--
I aim at the promotion and building our peaceful nation
I will die a little for my motherland Zambia
*chipepo lwele
PS;Happy 48 years of independence mother Zambia[24/10/2012]
Let me take you on a journey to my motherland.
Where beauty meets the eye of the beholder.
Where the sun burns and glistens on my brown skin.
Where the children play freely with no care in the world
Where the market place stands like a rainbow with different coloured materials
Where there are 54 countries.
Standing together to make up my motherland.
Where culture is amazingly fascinating
Where a great leader once lived.
Where they are mouth-watering fruits.
I have to say my motherland is worth the visit.
Glide through the safari,
Take a dive in the Victoria Falls if you dare,
Jive with the Maaasai tribe,
Receive the experience of a lifetime.
I have to say my motherland is worth the visit.
By Christina Okorie
Our great motherland
Called the giant of Africa
With the shadow of an ant
And the night of an earthworm
On her way to glory.
Led 'magnificently' by the thieves
Ex-convicts,murderers and mad men;
Our souls they've reduced to slush
And our spirits have been 'sharpvilled'
For revenge.
The French revolution
Should be played in our motherland
In the hope that our 'magnificent' leaders
Be thoroughly eliminated from us
And a new dawn we await for our motherland.
Where purple saffron's colors make antique delight.
Moonshine of lily white and doves stand on soil.
Green fields smile in glorious and spark with light.
Sweet song of blue merge our hearts.
Ah! She is the queen of all lands.
This land of our birth,
OUR MOTHER LAND!!!!
The Mother-Land Cries.
The land bleeds.
From treasured seeds.
No Diamond grills,
from cut off limbs.
The poor-less fears.
''Blood, Sweat an Tears.''
The Hunger of pain,
screaming in vein.
With continued cries,
an lullaby's.
Of stories told,
but never unfold.
In a desperate speed,
of souls in need.
The Sun, has drowned,
in this part of town.
And the moon is hidden,
more than a mission,
on television.
The real world speaks,
In harmony,
with sympathy.
In sync,
with missing links.
with no one left,
confining itself.
In a matter of life an death.
A shepard's, shattered dream,
washing away, in the streams.
No cattle to feed.
Crippling the land.
Of silent sand.
A cry for help.
Too well kept.
Rendered thoughts,
an vivid souls,
traveling the distance,
of unfinished goals.
The beated Drum,
when no one comes.
The Mother-Land Cries,
there no denying...
The tears,
I hear,
In my ears.
Though out the night.
A Non-Stop flight.
Drifting through the sky,
When the whole world cry.
Piercing the goals,
Of heart an souls.
Still...
Yet, Un-Cut,
an bold.
By: Shi Ricks
@ copyright.
Many years together:
Workers, collective farmers,
Live in the anti-fascist countries,
You can find us in the history as the heroes
Of International Anti-nazist Soviet Society, but
All that we had - concentratio camps for us -
Andrey Dmitrievich Saharov and all inelligent
People and freedom for our friends: yes, we
And American people decide now and forever
Who is who -
We are free citizens...
And now we can make us a gift -
All power to Soviets, no Petlura,
No Hitler, Hebels, NKVD, gestapo
And their dictataura!
Soviet - that is democratic,
Elected by all people
And very effective,
Parties and regional,
Common and origional,
Popular and progressive,
Individual and very massive -
Parliment of peoples and nations,
Societies also: congratulations!
No getto, yes Motherland!
Motherland: Calling
The illusioned glass reflects the lucent moon
Lunacy descends upon the mountain wolves
Autumn's awe inspires the lucid minds
Transgressions and acts of illicit kinds
Verdant meadows bejeweled with strings of dews
Tornado trembles the naked trees
The hooting owls an omen bring.
The water snakes leave behind their lace skins
A wealth of childrenfolks' imagining
The indelible ink of my
Motherland tattoes my physche
The whistling grass echoes
My motherland:
For me, she calls.
Nigeria our great and beloved motherland,
where multitudes of tribes unitedly stand.
Our land of hope by two rivers divided,
with lush vegetation by nature provided.
Nigeria our home of people resilient.
A land of great icons in works diligent.
We hail thee our great and revered black nation,
our land of human dignity and redemption.
God arise and take your place as sovereign Lord.
Enthrone Thyself in Nigeria's seat of power.
Make her edicts and laws Thy eternal word.
Let justice prevail in her courts by the hour.
Our flag will peace and industry symbolize,
whilst our history will always immortalize
the deeds and sacrifices of our heroes past.
Help us Lord to serve our beloved land with zest.
Nigeria the blessed will pervasive peace know,
even when the threats of tumults seem to flow.
Her crops and yields will neighbouring countries nourish,
from her fields that inexhaustibly flourish.
SAVE MY MOTHER, AFRICA
Poor Africa, why have you allowed your ancient precious priceless beads taken away frm you while coveting after a common coated carved stones from the foreign land?
Where were you when your artifacts were shipped to the land behind the oceans
And your Children worked by the mill day and night
They took away your treasured garment and sealed you with an ''unsuitable suit'' from a distant land.
They inserted straw in a bottle and dip it in your mouth, but fix hose to your anus and passed it into a tank.
Draining your blood in the name of exchange
They took away your staff of office with which you have peacefully and successfully lead for centuries. They gave you guns in return to scatter your wards around, thereby losing ur respect.
They once respected you, now dread you
No longer the you they knew
Dear great Motherland where is your sense of supremacy of those good days, before u were made to look inferior?
Will you still allow this train to continue with d hopeless journey?
Where all we now live for is nothing but money
Now we treat one another line monkeys
O great Africa hear the call from your womb
The child therein is due for delivery
Tighten not your cervix the passage of life
The future sits uncalm inside of you
The entire world awaits that unique cry
The birth of the future, the new world
Unchain yourself from the shackles of the West
Create your path trough the jungle
This is the forest from where you were raised
Where the paths to the streams and ranches
Paths to the mountains and the valleys
Your children raced and long for everyday
Call out your lost children behind the seas
Scattered across the deserts in their search for greener pastures that never exist
Call out in your slangs they know your voice
Let them come home to rescue the hailing mother
Our mother is sick and losing her breath
Fellow brothers and warriors on sojourn
Rest not in the land of your captivity
Run back home and heed the call of mama
Our mother has taken up a another father
Our step father rapes her day and night
Now about to die with her pregnancy
Come rescue our mother the mother Africa
Save the life of her unborn baby the new world
Time to leave the barn and head home
Home is where we come not their Rome
Romans built their home
Africa must build her own
(FM CONCEPTUAL)