Long Africans Poems
Long Africans Poems. Below are the most popular long Africans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Africans poems by poem length and keyword.
We are gathered
Each and everyone
Honouring the forefathers
Glorifying every man
The mothers and fathers
Who made a stand
Paving a path, telling a story
Of how it began
Of ancient Kemet
Our homeland, the motherland
Told in oral history
Then cast in stones
Diluted by the Vatican
At a conference in Nicosia
Under the guidance of Rome
In strife and victories
We must understand
The causes and reasons
The Explanations
That there is a lesson to be learnt
That what is happening now
Has happened before
When we open our eyes and mind
We should realize
We must record our history
In the hall of fame
Celebrating
Our heroes name
Markus Garvey had a plan
The unite Africans
Those from across the oceans
Those in distant lands
But his dream is now in smoke
When consciousness had gone
On a walkabout
When identity has taken a shock
From European imagery and press attack
We are branches
From the trees
Broken in storms
Shedding its leaves
In far flung places
Where ever we roam
We are blessed by the divinity
And cursed by no one
In suffering and tribulations
We must understand
That the heroes who had gone on before
Paved a path to our existence
Opening doors
Through sacrifices and commitment
That with unity and purpose
We replicate the ethos
By keeping focus
And reclaim our place
In the annuals
In our halls of fame
Celebrating our heroes name.
This poem was written for Black Heroes Foundation, an organization which is dedicated to telling African History through artistic performances.
I once had that Afro hair you now rock, oh yes i once had it.
Not in the 40s, not in the 50s but in the summer of the dark age. I was a pretty little thing, A fish and oh yes i swimmed all waters.
My blackness got it strength from that Afro hair, not the wigs you rock now that has no shadow under.
My Afro hair.
I rocked it in front of the mirror and it sent messages to the slave masters that i have scribbled their skeletons on my wall.
My Afro hair.
I rocked it in the club and a white brother got the message that liberty needs a glass.
My young Africans.
You rock your Afro hair in front of sloths, drink wild, your winks die and you lie you represent the liberation party.
My young Africans.
In the summer of the dark age i was among the black panthers, we pounced on herods and never wore another skin.
My young Africans.
How do you rock your Afro hair?
What do you make of the coco butter inside your skin?
Oh what an ebony skin you got.
My young Africans.
I'm Sekani
Though weak they may seem today
The voices of young Africans sway
Like a cub learning to stand tall
Our whispers will grow into a lion’s call
Roaring across the Sahara and the Atlantic.
In our tender hands, soft yet bold
Lies tomorrow’s story yet to unfold.
The future we all dream and long for
Seeks no other echo, no other song
But the rising chorus of young African voices.
Let those voices paint the skies
With stories as rich as Mansa Musa of Mali.
Break the chains of what once was
And craft new tales, with a just purpose
For the world’s future rests in the hands and hearts
Of young African voices, ready to roar.
RAIN AND FLOOD
Raining all through the night,
Mum and Dad kept busy
wading water .
Soon, the flood overflew
the wooden bench we
Sat on. And nowhere was
Safe again. Soon again,
The cock crowed crookedly.
He too was drenched in
Rain and flood.
Daybreak
We must go to School.
We walked through the
flooded Streets, groping
to school.
We couldn't go through
the Pako Bridge.
We turned to the New Bridge.
Standing and looking into
the school, flood was everywhere.
Only the headmistress and the
Teachers groped in the flood
Waving us back home.
Heavily drenched in rain and
Flood, my teeth knocked
In drumbeat against one another,
rhyming with the rains.
All Babies, all children cried,
Walking back home.
My sister strapped me on
Her little back.
Nylon bags, dustbin, human
Waste, animal dung floated on the
Flood.
Amidst staccato of crying voices;
Kids’, children’s,
Adult’s, Africans’…
anarchy was loosed
upon Nigeria
AKUDOLU IGNATUIS
[email protected]
is in the blood
spirituality runs in our blood
so we confined in love
to live in harmony
where peace dwells
with no isolation
is in our blood
once we were all one
we lived together
we Shared same
dreams hopes and joy
our God was love
our moto to life was truth
so we live with our fear
cos spirituality yes it
is in our blood
is in our blood
our ancestors makes
sounds with all there hands
could lay on
music runs in our blood
we always sing to God
sing to the sun
sing to the stars of hope
sing to the moon
sing with the birds
singing yes it
is in our blood
is in our blood
we love to dance
we dance away our
sorrows to the
winds of change
we love to dance
we dance to God
we dance to nature
we dance with an
open mind
with out no grief
nor grudge
we just dance
yes we Africans it
is in our blood
is in our blood
we love life
we love happiness
we love to create
we love to teach
we are born survivals
no wonder we are
still existing in more
multitude instead of minority
our God is love
yes spirituality it
is in our blood
is in our blood
religion or no religion
we love to pray
yes it run in our blood
we first prayed for the world
while we create a way
for humanity through
the divine wisdom
base on spiritual connection
through nature
direct from God
In our DNA
the divine of the
highest dignity of
the mysteries of God
never seizes to prove
to the world that
miracle it
is in our blood
Within the AI Borg is a hierarchy of being,
Probably a reflection of its programs
Which in turn reflect the human world
Of programmers all locked in time.
So the Chinese, Koreans and Japanese
Stand at the top
While the dark African races sit at the bottom.
But due to social compensation
The dark races are held as sacrosanct.
A soft racism of low to no expectation,
The “special” sibling who gets the special chair.
Hierarchies and stereotypes are real after all
Based on at least grains of truth
Of metrics encoded in our DNA.
Why is it the Jews excel at chess,
And West Africans at the sprint?
Hint, it’s not culture or conditioning
Regardless what your Borg masters tell you,
Pushing their pseudo-science of sociology.
Despite what they say
It is nature that is the ultimate nurturer.
Nurturing us through flesh and blood
To rise and shine, not sink but swim,
Down through the ages now lost in time,
Of places our ancestors lived
The changing seasons defining who we are.
Does this make us different?
You can bet your sweet ass it does.
Does it make us equal?
How is that even conceivable when
Everywhere, thus everyone is different?
Slow and fast life strategies are what rule the world.
What EO Wilson applied across all zoology
JP Rushton infamously applied to us apex apes,
Which just made the world go apesh*t.
Which is which and which are you
The curious and inquiring still want to know.
The rest, the truly blind and foolish,
Could care less in their delusional hubris.
They think they’re cool and at the top
While Borg agrees with condescending slop.
But why the worry, why the concern
What Borg promotes and shuns in turn?
It’s just a program, for programmed minds
Just switch on the EMP. Ah, just in time.
(9/6/26)
Blood runs thicker than water,
but what if they are the same?
What would you do if you had to choose modern warfare,
or your traditional flame?
What would you do if you are forced to slavery, with only two (2) choices left behind to escape;
one to drown in water, but of course lay peaceful death,
or would you rather drown instead in physical, trafficking claims?
What if or not, these are the very things are the very things Africans and black beauties went over to knock;
to go and rampage in the waters and Atlantic waves, just like they are taught?
Wait, no! I take that back, oh please.
--- because actually? Those are the things only their outdated ancestors lasted,
and now they are encouraged to keep the peace and stay on a leash.
With that, multiple Africans died in the sea because they refuse to be freezed.
--- Perhaps, do you think you could do the same?
To love your country so much,
that you would rather sacrifice your life, dreams, and possible fame instead of bringing shame to your country by just being a slave.
Would you consider that foolish and lame?
Or would you consider that heroic; a mark of claim?
Should you respect them, or should you not?
However regardless of your opinion,
I suggest we teach our young to see them as powerful human beings,
instead of leaving them to rot.
Because honestly? That's what we should've been taught long ago.
Even with your electric guitar and your drums,
It cannot be compared to our skin made drums.
You still cherish the sound of our music and it value
Despite how hard you tried to make we live life as designed by you.
We are Africans and our history is not all about slavery,
Yeah! It a dark side that when enunciated of will always bring misery,
As we spend centuries building your world in the absolute absence of choice,
Breaking our self-esteem, humiliating our ego, all to silence our voice.
Yet we grew up stronger than you think,
Providing for your factories with just a eye blink,
Despite with all the division you preach,
We chose to play by... as we stretch our hands friendly for you to reach.
Yet you think you are shrewder than us,
And you try to corrupt our leaders whom we trust.
Then paint them black by your media
Those who at the start realize that you are not our friend nonetheless the healer.
You take our rich heritage to beautify you museums,
You still, loot and scattered or kingdoms
Over four centuries you milk our Caws, and harvest our ivory,
You take our diamonds, steal our golds, and all the things you envy.
We are Africans, one made of many,
Rich in diversity, and a culture that you envy,
Skin color that shine, glitter and glow
Even with suppression, oppression yet slowly we grow.
Another years gone and yes we can
Has become another lost dream
No one stand up for patriout act to apply
To americans
We had momentum and lost steam
Were are new leaders
Ours are outdated and holding
Us back
Were is the love accepted
But not fact
Why is their black americans
Seeking reperations for crimes against africans
If that ever works I'm sue the british
For deformation of character
Why are the children silenced
Scared because they sit home
And listen to violence in every song
Show and game
Here the truth we all plaYing same game
And we all bluffing the same deal
Aces with eights
No matter what its a dead mans hand
Form:
Her name is hope...
He came in with a devilish look in his eyes , it was the lust
that separates men from Christ, I am talking doing time
for what crime?
Your skin color got you trapped in the same place, you will not get it
or get there until you look like MJ, no offence Mr "black or white".
We still carry chains thus our wrists are parched for Rolex-es and Tag Huers.
l do not know what I am really saying but you and I we need each other. The synergy , chemistry will not move until your blood touches mine.
Yes life is a drag , a play and clay but it can never be that bad unless
we refuse to never say never , now l am feeling nervous. In dark days who do you trust? Who do we call?
Black loves White as much as White needs Black for Black adores White . Dust your nerds you shall see clearly . Asians , Africans , Americans , Europeans , Australians and the galaxy beyond we need us in order to win together , this life is ours. Earth our sanctuary . Vol-tron the colors of the rainbow Alpha and Omega planted on mother earth , only love can shelter us before Mountains speak.
It ends the same , it hurts like hell and hell is for the wicked and lazy. Fight for your right , have sight and shine bright .
I am taking the first step , I am ready for whatever for her name is Hope she shall sustain us until another Bob Marley record speaks for Hope is the only who can save us , heal us and comfort us.
Her name is Hope...