Travel taught me one precious thing,
There is always better Elsewhere,
You love your village, visit the Tyrol,
You love Cathy, Sue has more beautiful blue eyes,
My travels taught me to change buses often,
You’ve seen Paris, go see the bayous of New Orleans,
You have gently cultivated your garden, go help the little children
From Burkina Faso,
My travels taught me something,
There is always better elsewhere,
You read James Joyce, go discover Jack London in San Francisco,
You enjoyed Chenonceau, go discover Schönbrunn Palace,
You saw the Big Dipper, go see Cassiopeia, travel again,
You reread Rimbaud, go see the Grand Canyon,
My travels taught me this precious thing,
There is always better elsewhere,
It is since travelling far away, that I learnt what really matters.
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx
Once in the village of Daka in Burkina Faso,
Lived Koussé the incorrigible drunkard
Very popular was he that his presence was necessary
In all the ceremonies and feasts and meetings,
Wifeless and childless and houseless and penniless was he
But was feared and respected and admired by all.
He is sharp tongued and short tempered
And knows all the secret and history of everyone,
I shall never die till I’ve revealed all your abominations,
And witchcraft and adulterous acts! He’d say
Go away Koussé! You’ve drunk your brain
And chewed your sense!
Yes! I’ve nothing but my senseless boneless rotten baldhead.
He died one rainy midnight lonely and miserably
With a calabash full of alcohol beside his corpse,
Koussé is gone! Some shouted and danced;
All the hidden secrets and history and abominations
Still remains in the village of Daka up till this day.
Read more at: http://www.poetrysoup.com/member_area/submit_poems.aspx
The Blood of Martyrs
“He stood aloof the ***** youth
What of his future?”
Peter Abrahams
When the guns thunder
In Cameroon or Côte-d’Ivoire
In Mali or Burkina Faso
Limitless martyrs
Disappear!
Beads of blood still pearling
Running from the martyrs’ hot bodies
I vainly ask to know:
Why are the ill-stricken dictators so greedy
And their peoples so eloquently silent?
Gabon- Togo-Cameroon- Tunisia- Egypt-
Zimbabwe-Burkina Faso
What is going on?
What of our time? What of man?
Nothing but words.
Words of those who see with
Somebody’s eye
Or
Those who have gained
Nothing of their heritage
If not Samory’s puzzle.
Meanwhile
The spring keeps growing
Swallowing creeds to bear greeds
In spite of Ebola and the wars
In spite of Aids killing thousands of people
In spite of the minority who with the help
Of the majority eat from the fruit
Of the majority’s vote
In spite of growing desert….
N’Gaoundéré, 16th February 2010