Concrete cities of our converted land.
Currencies creeping along, Naira or rand.
This is Africa, should we take a stand?
Helping hands strip rich rocks into their bands.
Debtors demanding for repayment. How grand!
Is this not africa, being exploited by their demand?
Twisted talks just to redeem their brand.
Foolish facades of goodness spoken for our misbrand.
Africa's afro now gripped by a hairband.
The beauty of it all Reduced to nothing.
Patterns of pride are left puffing,
pacing and on their knees before assimilation
pushed them to conformity.
Conformity with the rest of the nation's.
The majority of their dim drab glows.
Just another place, that everyone knows.
The loss of togetherness.
People now ungenerous,
As Africa's silky strands replace her natural beauty.
Categories:
hairband, africa, beauty, corruption, discrimination,
Form: Rhyme
just like she's always done
with a heart and mind pricked by thorn
there she stood with her black and yellow top
And a blue jeans from a known fancy shop
A golden wristwatch and a running hairband that doesn't stop
Black shoes and a yellow hand-band
With a face white like chalk-snow
And a skin which paleness hath swallowed
Apart from her sulking paces, full flagrant happiness followed
Accompanied with shifts in mood and wilderness that shows
Causing heads to shake, and mouths to blurt, and minds to to think their humanly share
But none could notice her despair
Happiness outside, sadness inside
Because she envy all others who still have hopes of seeing their friends
And those who continue to wish happy new year
And those who shall continue to live in no fear
If only life have for her a spare...
Either a day, months, or a couple of years
Today, from her wardrobe, of what is best, dearly and most expensive she wear
Because tonight is the last of her days
And before tonight, she is going to do all in her wish
For surely today, counting her days hath end, and so is her diagnosis
Categories:
hairband, blue,
Form: Free verse
Time and again, over the decades
The lonely whisper, the beckoning cry
Eerie darkness engulfs
As reality dawns on us
I revert, past the cobwebs
dusting away remnant memories
holding onto loving hands
from afar, a joyful dance
sprinting across the scorching sand
there goes the hairband
as I near, my spirit soar
shoes came off, I tore
days old, times dear
distant recollections, near
of the sparkling golden hue
merging with the green and blue
gone are those, days of mirth
the loving hands had left
only longings left behind
time and again, over the years
© Nadiya (10 Dec 2015)
painting #2
Categories:
hairband, beach, childhood, family, feelings,
Form: Free verse