Cameroon Poems

AS LONG AS THE WIND STILL BLOWS

As long as the wind still blows
His words will still reecho
In the dreams we forget when we wake
In the thoughts that dip and surface.

"Africa must unite
We have the resources
We have the manpower
Only unity remains"

These words will fly with the Monsoon
Across the plains of South Sudan, Cameroon
Climb the hills of DR Congo, walk the lonely deserts of Libya
Drift through the woods of Mozambique, through Ethiopia’s.

They will reecho in Somalia’s savannah
Breathe through the Sahel, Nigeria’s deep oil fields
Flow with the Yenge River of Sierra Leone
Until we hold them close, and call them our own.

And maybe then, in silent knowing
We’ll find the meaning we kept postponing.

tellers flawed

sub test
bested friscans, outed
not a vow about it
sheens and dreams
cameroon once held blooms in truth
never hid out in bosnia long enough
with opened hands
looking be kind at him
israelly waters eyes so himilayan
an trapped
too wrapped in his daughters heyday's
brazillia soo wild and repressed
from americaint pick up the bodies
melted frets in my brush 
strokes forgetting
english frustraiting the curved bowties

Peace

Now, let assume that the sacred human body is the world 
    and here is Nigeria, this is America, what is Cameroon?, 
 where is Cambodia?, how is China?, who are you?, 
    what is South Africa?, hi Niger?, and may be a universe
  of whichever tis or twas or glee?. 
 You see quo era demonstratum, 
   you see more than globalization and brotherhood, 
  you see more, more, more fresh behold and behold 
   and behold?
  or how dear whoever just may strike this sort of love 
   even it were yesternight or yesterday.

She’s not GONE SHE'S JUST NOT HERE Grandma LUE is in the HEAVENLIES

Elegy 
“You have to keep breaking your heart until it opens.”
                                                                                                 -Rumi

Soil so dust to dust another loved lost, 
Harvested soul now risen separated from its host.
Much needed rest an eager witness missing,
Long lived Lue Birder Grandma Lue,
Creek Blackfoot of such decent.
Native American African blood from Cameroon. 
Tears of misunderstanding understood not to understand.
Miss guise until she was under the influent,
Her self is not here inside tis casket vision.
Her self has risen, nor has she died she’s risen.

Place not flowers beside nor atop of her;
She no longer can shell the aroma,
That that’s in the coffin just bones, that’s not Grandma.
Heaven sent, heaven scents blessedness we miss,
I look up I submit I smack smooch Kiss”….
Blow up onto heaven a Kiss,
Daddy Father God her presence I sore, truly miss.
Heaven blessed be at peace enjoy the fellowship and view
She’s not gone she’s just not here
Grandma Lue






8/24/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2024©

THE PLAINS OF CAMEROON

If I ever visited Cameroon 
I'll aimlessly wander in its vast lands
Savouring every moment of its beauty
And marvel at the mysterious work of God's hand

If I ever visited Cameroon 
I'll make friends with the grassfields of Bamenda
So I'll let to wander around its vast vegetations
Savour the green wonders of nature

I'll draw the last stroke on that portrait
In my dream I drew of Douala
Of the smiling little hills
Of which the power of the sun yields.

If I ever visited Cameroon
The last piece in that puzzle solved
For I will meet the true Savannah
A home to elephants, lions and hyenas.

Cameroon

Cameroon, oh Cameroon,
Land of beauty and grace.
Your splendor I embrace.
Your people, proud and strong,
With hearts that beat as one.
Their voices rise in song,
Beneath the African blue skies.
Cameroon, land of the rising sun,
Where the savannah meets the sea.
A place of beauty, where life begun,
And the people are proud and free.
From the cities to the plains,
Your beauty knows no bounds.
Your pure healing lagoons astounds,
And your wildlife abounds.
The elephants roam free,
The lions roar with pride.
The gorillas in the trees,
A sight you can't hide.
Cameroon, oh Cameroon,
Your majesty is clear.
A land of wonder and beauty,
A place we hold dear.

Their Fighting Spirit To Win

I will be quite honest with you
         this girl does not know a thing about football or soccer
      men or women's, not a thing . . . 
         but, I can feel the excitement of what is happening in France
  especially the opening game on Monday with my
  country of Canada vs Cameroon . . .  
    and WOW, Hoot, Hoot, VICTORY for Canada !!!!!!
  of course, its a four week tournament so anything can happen
              but being a Canadian let me wave our flag-
         I am so proud of these amazing athletic women
      and their fighting spirit to win, win, win . . . 
         so proud-  not just for the Canadian women but all
  the players on every team from all over the world
  for their dedication and work to be the best they can be
     and for representing the women of the world-
  oh yeah, I like women who play the game of football soccer !

_________________________
June 11, 2019


Poetry/Free Verse/Their Fighting Spirit To Win
Copyright Protected, ID 19-1151-602-02
All Rights Reserved.  Written under Pseudonym.


Written for the contest, 2019 FIFA Women's Cup France
sponsor, Mark Toney

Third Place

The Price of Being a Woman

In da Cameroon by da light of da moon,
The mothers iron their daughter breasts,
They put hot rocks to stop the shocks,
Of unwanted pregnancy.

In Bangaladesh when the sky is fresh,
The men throw acid in a womans face,
They burn the eyes and all the flesh,
She will never say no again.

In holy Yemen where the men are men,
With a razor blade or cutting knife,
They practice female circumcision,
The men must be so proud.

I’ve been around this crazy world,
And been disgusted by what I’ve seen,
The human “dog” that calls itself a man,
Should never be and should never have been.

African Cameroon Nigerian Birth From the Creek Nation

African Cameroon Nigerian Birth from The CREEK NATION

I am black 
Yet I am one of God lambs
I am also African/CameroonNigerian
And also birth from the Creek nation
Lo, I am of blended shade
Darken medium blend
I am BLACK
Yet I am also African/CameroonNigerian
Ahh!! and also birth from the Creek nation
Yes!  part  Creek indian
Funny, No not really the Creek also had slaves
If  we of mixed races were dogs
Would be called muts
And you know, no  matter how light skinned were
Still have to sit in back of bus
All of this is in my past 
Discrimination and slavery
So much part of my DNA and history
Peel my skin away I'm the same I bleed
I'm Gods child, I am a human being
African, Cameroon, Nigerian Creek
I am black 
Yet I am one of God lambs
I am also African/CameroonNigerian
And also birth from the Creek nation


3/18/18
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2018

My Country Land

MY COUNTRY LAND

Oh my Cameroon,
From the colors of a desiring mind,
Hums from an ancestral hands,
The Switzerland of an African land,

It true nature, beauty of it kind,
Footage from it Holy mount,
Memorable of Her outstanding sounds,
Falling unto its Historical towns,

Oh thou flow at two fathoms,
Seized from her master tongue,
Sparkly remarkable it Unity star,
Drawn down peace, love and fatherland.

Of Terrors and Men

(TO THE VICTIMS OF WAR IN MY NATIVE
 CAMEROON AND IN NORTHERN NIGERIA)

Giants 
Have filled 
The FAR North
Sweeping
Bloodbathing 
With sophisticated 
Heavy weapons
Connected on a 
Barren land
Communicating
As from satellites,
Techniques and
Outfits of
The expedition
They got THERE
Thundering, 
Murdering, 
Raping, and 
Reaping
The scarce 
Bank notes kept aside 
To launch our economy
here.
The giants are   
Putting up stubborn
Resistance ready
To dismantle, 
Horrify, and 
Offer pretexts
For erecting another 
Benghazi or Mali, 
Somalia or 
The Sudans:
Growing poverty
Exile
On the desert
Migrations
Corruption
Legislations
Segregations
Falling soldiers
Suspecting the 
Innocents
Blackmailing
The weak.
Where are our 
White hope of 
The Opposition
And all the experts
On geopolitics?
Tell us whose war
Is it?

The Blood of Martyrs

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

Bodies Litter Bama Town

Like wrappers on a carnival street,
So bodies litter Bama Town;
As time deflates these body balloons,
Flies gyrate in their flowing fluid.

Above them wafting their flag
That shred them like potato chips
And mindful of why? And why?
‘‘Infidel must die’’, they post.

Then comes afar a zombie voice,
A retreat voice from Cameroon:
''Blame us not mother land;
If only we had airport armoured cars.''

Seek not Bama in map tomorrow,
Vorbei ist vorbei,gone is Babylon.

Why They Came To Africa

Like the burglar thats attracted by money,
like the thug that’s paid to kill,
so they got enticed by our gold, our diamond and our oil.
so they came to steal, to kill and to destroy us.
Gold coast,Ivory coast , South Africa,Cameroon amongst other countries were attacked…
they stole our gold,
they stole our diamond
and they stole our oil.
when we resisted, they kill us with their inhuman policies
like aparthied in S.Africa,
and by destroying us, they took us as slaves.
we now live in ghettos and slumps
we die of poverty and famine
they are the ones responsible for our plight
their coming to Africa has brought nothing good
for they came to STEAL, to KILL and to DESTROY

The Boy Pilot-

Reporters waiting at the blocked off air- strip,
to get photos of the boy wonder at the end of his trip.
Around the world in his hot air balloon,
from Anchorage to Cameroon.
Picking up treasures from every land,
grizzly bear claws, and feathered bands.
The air ship lands while the crowd cheers,
The door opens , and the boy pilot nears.
“Will you make a statement?”, they want to know,
“What have you seen , and where did you go?”
I travelled wherever the wind blew me to,
met people , went places, that I never knew.
So, I have many tales to tell ,
of the wonders I have seen,
many stories to be written,
And I am but fifteen.

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