Long African Poems
Long African Poems. Below are the most popular long African by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long African poems by poem length and keyword.
Thanks to you all
Thanks to those who come to
poetrysoup.com, practise poems,
write, read and share poems
and comment on others
Thanks to those who read my
writings, do comments, follow
me, avoid my poems, block
and ban me from their list
Thanks to you all
I’ve no eternity here, all of me
from least to chest, best to edge,
sharpen blade of new paddy leaves
jeopardize my torn nib of ink
in the field of writings graph
Maybe I couldn’t write any word
for beauty and stunning young girl
in comprehension, in passion and
in my fashionable heart
Maybe I couldn’t write charming note
of flower’s petals, striking fragrance,
in my perpetuity lake of quills
Maybe I couldn’t draw the sexy body of
rose, lotus, tulip, sunflower, orchid,
lily, daffodil… etc in my vulnerable
reef of poetic expression
Maybe I couldn’t draw the colors magic
of rainbow in my infatuated fallen
soaked feathers with November rain
Maybe I couldn’t inscribe the nature
the cosmos, the solar system, the ocean,
the black hole, the space, the sky, the stars,
the planets, the galaxies, the meteors, the
gravitational power…etc in my slumbering
wings of writings
Maybe I couldn’t plant the meditational
tree into the pure heart of words, I couldn’t
select the seeds of immortality in my
ascetic madness and magma script
Maybe I couldn’t greet the autonomy flying
of Cockatiels, Parakeets, Canaries, Finches,
African Grey Parrots, Budgerigars, Cockatoos,
Conures, Macaws, Poicephalus…etc in my
unintelligible incarcerated language
Maybe I couldn’t hail the abode for Labrador,
Bulldog, German, Poodle, Beagle… etc and
Maine Coon, Egyptian Mau, American Bobtail,
Ragdoll…etc in my materialistic
harvesting terminology
Maybe I couldn’t sleep with power of poems,
dream to be a finest classic or modern poet
in my kingdom of pen, paper, ink, writing
table-chair and lamp
Notwithstanding all these, I thanks to those
who come here at least one time daily,
erratically and read, write, share own
thoughts and comment frankly
Thanks to you all a lot. Thanks and love you
all. From me always ready the rose without
thorns and love for you all, although you bleed
my heart by thorns stinging
-November 14, 2018 Chattogram
////
DEDICATED TO POETRYSOUP.COM and ALL POETS-POETESSES OF THIS ESTEEMED LITERARY SITE
MY SWEETHEART PART 2!
This love is from the bottom of my heart
I love you my sweetheart
You are the queen of my heart
Your heart belongs to my heart
Your beauty satisfies my vulnerable heart
I know you won't break down my heart,
But please build your space and echo in my heart
Your smile and your eyes make me proud
Because I know you have the Mona Lisa fraud
Stars, moon and the sun bow down for your beauty
They don't contain such beauty
My sweetheart allow me to name you Beauty
Sure case my sweetheart your beauty matches the nature's beauty
Don't allow me to say dark beauty or any beauty
But allow me to say you have an African beauty
We share cheers for charity
We love each other for surerity
Like I said earlier our love have clarity
As it needs good and excellent maturity
True love for you darling doesn't quantity
But it acquires strong and jubilant quality
God gave me a gift of charity
And I'm obsessed with that charity
I know you are going to change me
You are not going to drain me
But you are going to develop me
You are not going to exhaust me
But you are going to exhault me
You won't disappoint me
But you will appoint me
Seriously you won't downgrade me
But you will upgrade me
Sweetheart, I love you
You are starring me like you are dressing my dirty mind
You are so beautiful and merciful to me
Beautiful like diamonds in the sky
Beautiful like the moon shining on the sky
Beautiful like cirrocumulus clouds on the sky
Only God and ancestors can tell because they live above the sky
In our love, the limit of all these things will be the sky
Sweetheart, I love you my sweetie pie
I know I will be enjoying you more than a king pie
They usually call me the calf of the November cloud
And my feelings are pregnant like the Nimbus clouds
Not everyone like Nimbus clouds
Only farmers are in love with the Nimbus clouds
Others like cumulus and cirrus clouds
I'm sure my feelings have desire like can stratus clouds
Our love is as good as nimbostratus clouds
Let us fly like travellers
I am a singer plus poet travellers
Explorers are also travellers
Our love dont need intruders but we travellers
Travellers The Singer plus poet love you
I will make myself a man because of you
My sweetheart I respect you!
My sweetheart I love you!
Shiba Phumlani Vimbelasizwe (Travellers: The - Poet)
MY SWEETHEART PART 2!
I was a successful, fashionable florist, in mild green days of elegant gardens,
When an orange sun beamed its pleasure, like locales where lavender begins.
I formed arrangements for many occasions, drawing beauty lovers from afar,
As pretty planets arrange for a meeting, after wild rumors of the newest star.
And crowded hours were filled with summer, like pearly dews crowd morning,
Until ruby butterflies are playing tag, and gemmed damselflies are swarming.
Friends felt I might always be found, in some area of flush bloom fragrancies,
Like raven midnight's march to daybreak, with its warm, varicolored agencies.
Fond family held festive feasts, in fading hours of sparkly, fuchsia sun falling,
As whippoorwill songs clashed with red robin's, midst magenta stars gawking.
I lived in the house of tangy, saturated noon, when flowers were in full glory,
Like the most beautiful day of a woman's life, when a bride she's come to be.
Scarlet, saffron and other hues glittered, within the soulful sector of summer,
As starlings sang songs along my street, and sun rose and retired, a stunner!
Neighbors were nomadized at times, as honeydew moon nestles in new night,
When visiting me on eves of silk and satin, when fresh June was at its height.
Silver clouds were saddled with summer sun, in suddenly days of sweet rose,
Like grey encumbering smoke from autumn fires, when in plum mists it flows.
Raven noon was in green treetops, as the inarticulate ravens were squawking,
And fading time seemed to stand still, but ephemeral moments kept walking.
One day I woke to a gorgeous view from my window, daisies pink and yellow,
In the wide field right next to my house, glowing in the rich, sunshine mellow!
It put such a smile on my face, oh my! Like flocks of pretty blue jays going by,
And I kept seeing daisies everywhere I went, like a pearlescent moon on high!
I beheld African daisies and shasta, and pom pom-like chrysanthemum ones;
Along with fine lustrous gerberas, in all colors found, in wild green kingdoms.
I wondered at my strange, good fortune, in seeing beloved blooms anywhere;
Like the young, butterscotch days when Mother said, 'We're going to the fair!'
For awhile, I saw sweet daisies by day, and it seems I dreamt daisies at night;
Like a brief mystic spell of rapture, when hidden beauty's freed from its plight.
OF AN EBONY HUED MID-SUMMER NIGHT DREAM
(Apropos of We Kings, Queens, and The Fiery Furnace)
Indeed, this is a day the Lord has made:-
Considering last night’s revelation dreaming,
Waking up into this day the Lord has made,
I must enjoy and be glad for being still vertical.
Although “The Great Dream” may have been deferred,
Indeed, it has not been forgotten and deterred.
Oh, they may have murdered its dreamer, but
His and our liberation dream is immortal:-
Looking out over the horizon of our challenged life,
It is realized that we Exodus people have come a long way;
Survivors of the blood-stained shadows of horrific death:-
And we have come this far on the sojourn by faith.
Yes, we have come this far by an inherent faith—continuing
To maintain and sustain us in the present perils of our lives:-
And as African-Americans, surviving in this deemed “promise land”,
We’ve had and continue to have a special kind of relationship with God.
During our living experiences here during and after debilitating slavery,
We’ve seen, heard, felt, and responded to the Word of God in ways that
Are unique to us as an African people of God; for indeed, as chosen ones,
We’ve always been able to sing and praise God in truth and in holy spirits.
Reflecting on the truth of ourstory, it is realized that we are of a people
Whom many would have expected to have stopped singing and praying
A long time ago; yet, from generation to generation, we’ve just kept on
Singing and praising and trusting in the love of God and His redemption.
Indeed, sacred revelations continue to bring us from extermination
To exaltation, from degradation of dignity, from nobody to somebody;
With wide wondering eyes on the prize, we continue to sojourn onward
For our eyes have seen His glory as we have continued marching in His truth.
Indeed, we not only believe but know that in the savior’s favor
Life is and while our perils may endure here a little while longer,
We know that a liberating joyful stay here on earth is on the horizon
Promised by that very present help to those who live in good trouble;
Thus, let us not be exhausted nor deterred by the ghost tyranny
But with undying faith and spiritual strength, let us victoriously
Demonstrate that we are not of the children of Sisyphus’ fate;
But living reflections of Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego:-
How long will this suffrage last?
Painting the dark picture of a darkened past.
My people are supposed to be blessed,
But we are cursed in this foreign land.
My people are supposed to be royalty,
Yet we are slaves.
The seed is supposed to grow higher and higher,
But yet it withers away like a dry flower.
Just accept it, that the curse is with us,
How long will this suffrage last?
If only God’s commandments were kept,
There would be no ignorance or plague,
No death or lost identities,
No religion or slaves.
There wouldn’t be another Egypt
that would take us far away from the motherland.
How long can we survive the curse?
Will it be forever and ever?
Will our beautiful queens continue to receive pain
While baby daddies are the ones to blame?
How about the separation of our families
causing broken homes?
Is it the curse of our ancestor’s blame?
How long will we rely on this oppressive nation?
The king over us that has no regard of our struggle.
Their nation became unstoppable,
They rose higher and higher.
But my people plundered lower and lower
since the days of old, from slavery to civil rights,
And all them stories untold.
We are the tail but not the head,
We fought for our rights but we still are not equals.
How long will this curse last?
When will the shouts cry, “Free at last!”
This is the curse,
A curse where God has shamed us,
From generation to generation,
Leaving our enemies blameless,
While they steal everything we own
And make it their possession.
Our people are the creators,
Yet it is unknown.
Almost four hundred years
the plagues has risen like a swarm of locusts
Devouring the blessing because of our scattered nation.
We were like the stars in the sky shining,
Until our numbers dwindled
from the slaughter of the beast’s wrath.
If only the ancestors stayed obedient and humble,
Maybe our lives would be a blessing.
We would be living with silver and gold,
But instead we were uprooted
from the land that was promised.
My brothers and sisters wake up!
We are living in a curse.
From poverty to persecution,
Watching death catch more bodies.
Repent and renew your mind and spirit,
Follow His commandments until you reach further,
Back to the motherland that is soon to be promised.
Get out of your ways and you will be covered.
If not, you will continue living the curse.
Form:
Poet: Ken Jordan
Story: Street Life
written: July/2014
Child, I have seen many nights
turn to dawn, out in the streets.
I was you once, left home thinking that
I could take care of myself at eighteen.
My parents told me what to
expect from my decision to walk away
from the one's who loved me.
Whatever they said, didn't matter,
because I was mentally gone, (lost) and
rushing to get out there in the unforgiving
cesspool of street life.
One thing is clear, once out there,
I learned very quickly what my parents
tried to get me to see.
The streets are cold , cruel , vicious,
and everyone's for themselves.
When your money runs out, your group
of so called "friends," are gone.
No one is going to give you
something for nothing, you make
it the best way that you can.
Looking back, the temptation of
being out there with my friends,
doing whatever I wanted to do,
without permission from my parents,
was the lure that motivated my
desire to leave home, and hang out
in the streets.
My parents fought tirelessly to
protect me from the hazards of
street life, but obviously, I wouldn't
listen.
They said son, you're too young at
eighteen, haven't finished high school;
you have no money.
What makes you think that you can
make it out there on your on.
You think that it's cool to hang-out, smoke
weed, drink alcohol, pop pills, do edible drugs, and stay up (high )
all night, and fallout wherever
you are.
The devil is a liar, he will set you up,
to lure you in, he'll make you think that
you're, "part of his street family," but, when
it all goes down, (and it will go down), the
devil will point a finger your way, and
leave you to defend yourself, and move
on to the next victim.
In street life, you better know which-a-way
the wicked come.
They wear false faces to hide who
they really are.
I played with the
devil, and crossed many murky,
dark rivers, but, the devil did not win.
I heard my parents voice's saying,
"Theirs only two places to go
from street life, prison or the cemetery."
The devil is a lair, and he's not your
friend. be aware of who and what
you follow, because, all feathers
ain't good feathers, choose the path
of least resistance, and your life
will change for the good in you.
Only eighteen and conscripted to the military,
no choice of mine it was the norm at this time and scary,
barely out of school and still wet behind the ear,
too young to watch an adult movie or have a beer.
Disadvantaged to study and too white to be left behind,
this I never understood till today, rightfully grew up blind,
this pain will never leave me as I walk through life,
explaining, I can’t understand myself, the past strife.
Ready to be trained to kill another nation’s child,
leaving their family with the loss and our side smiled,
dejected as I waved goodbye to my family that day,
my girlfriend was there too and my friends to stay.
To a military camp for 2 years, programed and trained,
based in Kimberley 900 Km to be mentally stained,
infantry intelligence was my involuntary military calling,
not knowing what was in store for our adult life’s stalling.
On my new bed listening to songs of memory and waiting,
corporals, sergeants screaming at youths scared, hating,
nobody knowing what or who, or how, where to show,
disconnected from family and treated like **** dough.
Moulding us into military men without feelings,
chased and forced without asking or dealings,
involuntary wearing uniforms, carrying death,
brainwashed, to march in unison, out of breath.
Bushwhacking, crawling under barbed mesh,
ripping our faces, shredding our young flesh,
many a youth destroyed mentally for gore,
but guaranteed that we were ready for war.
Your rifle is your wife; the military is your mother,
drilled into our minds and began a smother,
fired our weapons at fabricated enemy,
re-loading and then screaming with venom.
Indoctrination and mental instability forced,
not ourselves but killing machines endorsed,
spread across African borders to kill on sight,
innocent, women and child death is our right.
Many a friend made and many a friend lost,
this is for our nation, family and worth the cost,
under the impression of protecting our nation,
living off measly dehydrated and shared ration.
We the soldiers of our South African un-united nation,
proud and ready to destroy, our new minds creation,
all others were the enemy and terrorists,
to them we were the same to kill and create hero lists,
Friends and Time with family are lost forever,
memories of the past in our conscience lost never.
Dear Thom the Train
Attorney Page,
Defender of all Creatures
here below
in these DisUniting States
of throwback uncivil disunion,
What is your root foundation
for a constitutional argument
that all living residents
of these remaining United Democratic States
have a right
to restoring healthy justice,
to resiliently retaining healthy life?
Is this sacred democratic Source
inter-related with values
like well-being
prosperity
liberty
public health optimization,
declarations of defensive rights
for all Creation
to freely seek democratic empowerment
and liberating enlightenment?
Non-royalist
non-fascist
non-authoritarian
non-patriarchal
non-colonizing
non-racist
non-demonizing
non-anthropocentric,
non-xenophobic
non-narcissistic
non-egocentric
and, thereby, pro-green new and ancient win/win deals.
I am not a lawyer,
as you can clearly already hear,
but more of a constitutional
polycultural historian,
So, how do you briefly argue
in courts of your licit choosing,
an evolutionary theory
of democracy still healthily emergent?
Starting with straight
white
patriarchal property owners
of
African and Native American
domesticated and feminized
economic and political
natural and spiritual slaves,
Moving multiculturally out
to include prisoners
and homeless shelter dwellers,
human
and now our imprisoned
and life-endangered dogs
and cats,
horses
and cattle,
birds
and guines pigs
of democratic tensions
intentions
extensions
of dominating fraternity
and liberating sorority.
History shows
where our constitutional democratic story began
with white straight male slave-owner privilege,
But, how do you predict where
and when this evolving
expanding
emergent cooperative health-wealthing
cooperative reality
should
or could
or would globally end?
Or,
it is your brief courtship win/win position
that we must expect no such end
to this multiculturally revolutionary
democratic 20/20 revolution?
Moving from more Straight White Patriarchal
independence days
toward more resiliently fulfilling
Earth InterDependence Days
and sensory moonlit nights
Of freely orbiting stars
and planets
from democratizing Positive/Negative
Yang/Yin Energy
Empowering health,
Enlightening true and beautiful
polycultural
trans-historic
epic green
democratic wealth.
Oh! good people ,
Congolese of Democratic
Republic of the Congo,
One of good and kind nations in the World
Very hospitable
And Sociable
Peaceful
And Joyful
Pentient
And Loving
Very tolerant
And faithful
Beautiful place where there are more natural
Rivers Waterfalls
Lakes Islands
Forests Beaches
Parks Caves
Gardens Petrol
Gaz Salt
Minerals resources like:
Tourmaline
Coppers
Cobalts
Zincs
Coltans
Golds
Rubies
Diamonds
Lithium,Uranium , Beryllium ,Silver ,Emerald ,Steel Supphire ,Mercury ,Casterites manganese ... ETC.
Country where people pick up some minerals after heavy rains,
Second biggest African country with more than hundered millions people,
Country of many ethnic groups with more beautiful and wise women,
Country with more national wildlife reserves where you can find: Elephants ,Impalas ,Rhinos Nyala, Buffalos ,Donkeys,Lions ,Mangroves ,Leopards, Snake,
Tigers ,Eagles,Gorillas,Cobras,Chimpanzees ,Peacocks
Monkeys , and Other sorts of animals and birds.
Oh! United people ,
humble nation on earth,
People who know the real meaning of forgiving and forgetting,
People who were aggressed by their neighbours from 1996 to now,
More than 14 millions Congolese died in the Wars,
Genocides, Massacres And kidnappings.
People who always preach peace and love in the World.
Cry , Crying with those crying in Congo daily,
Pray,Praying with those praying for Congo daily,
Assist ,Assisting Congolese to come out of decades wars.
I share my pain with World.
Written 20- 2- 2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe Mussabwa Chris
in order to get back to Eden to live on top of the world
there are a few things from God which need to be heard
here in America in the democratic land of milk and honey
African-Americans are disproportionate when it comes to power and money
our healthcare is poorer, our finances worse, few of us in seats of power
at the bottom of most demographic indicators and our circumstances diminish by the hour
the most unemployed, the most discriminated, the first to be laid-off or dismissed
more of us in jail, a lot of us illiterate, there are too many problems for me to list
fewer marketable skills, fewest high school diplomas and don't mention college degrees
African-American men in America need to take off their blinders and see
to those who stand behind stained-glass windows and look down on those who have less
you need to take your brothers back to Eden and put an end to all this mess
you might not comprehend their reality but you should attempt to understand
that as true servants of God you should help your fellow man
if you consider yourself to be a true disciple of Christ
what have you done to enrich someone else's life?
who did you clothe? who did you feed?
who did you minister to in their time of need?
who did you mentor to on how to be a man?
who did you talk to or stretch out your hand?
there's a lot of work that needs to be done to get our brothers inspired
we need to help them build a relationship with God and do as Jesus aspired
in order to get back to Eden we need to start at the very beginning
with the basic instructions that God is recommending
to fellowship with your fellow man
to develop a trust opposite to slavery's plan
to communicate with positivity
to no longer promote negativity
to pull up your pants and walk like a man
to be productive and not destructive
to be supportive and not abortive
to act like someone's father and not like you're being bothered
to teach our brothers to put down the guns and take up the cross
so they will no longer act like thugs but to think like a boss
no longer will we be divided with jealous envy
now united as brothers under God's authority
getting back to Eden to be on top of the world
to living our lives according to God's Holy word
to get back to Eden and up from the basement of life
living on top of the world as brothers with our savior Jesus Christ