Long Zambezi Poems
Long Zambezi Poems. Below are the most popular long Zambezi by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Zambezi poems by poem length and keyword.
Listen
Our ancestral blood flows deep through the Nile,
Carrying a sacred journey of the Ndebele.
Listen to the thunder call of the Djembe drums.
Blending with the melodies of Tanzania.
The mighty Zambezi River speaks in whispers,
Streaming ancient storytelling through the waters.
The spirit of Ubuntu binds us.
A sacred Indigenous community.
Honor Serengeti’s great migration,
An epic, breathtaking voyage,
Beneath Africa’s purple sun shadow.
Like the great herds, we share this moment
Leaving our legacy behind us.
AFRO, listen to their heartbeat.
Of the Baaka tribe’s drum,
Awakening South African memories.
Our roots and our rhythms.
Return to the cradle of humanity's origin.
Listen,
Be still and know,
As the Ancestors speak.
The mosquitoes were dancing outside net,
Singing their treacherous songs of death;
“Let us in, we need your blood”.
I rose and rushed out of
The brick and pole cottage
From liquid waste demands,
Having been carousing in solitude
Till evening.
A daunting huge elephant treated itself
To ivory-honey fruit from tall trees,
The flapping of ears denoted peace,
It was in invasion of my residence.
Even in the full moon that night,
The smoke could be seen rising
Against the star studded sky,
There, where the Zambezi waters plunge
Into deep gorges,
My heart whispered,
Again, welcome to Victoria Falls.
By Parizo Van Thulare
what have we done this time ?
What happened to together as one ?
Why us?
Why now ?
I thought what we had back in the ages was through
I thought that blood which was shed back was dew
When I heard of the rainbow nation
I was moody and glowing
When I heard of color making combination
I knew things would come smoothly
It felt so nice
Seeing those of my kind so bloomy
Continents from the South bowed to us
Those from the north started sharing with us
They knew we were peace makers
The knew we were good neighbors
But now
Things have gone south
Weapons are used like spoons
Wearing down every street like troops
With sound blocking my ears
That smell of a man burning makes me cry
I felt useless looking at the screen of my Aunt's television
Asking why men are in collusion
Why chasing one with such hatred ?
Whilst u know that when it rages ,it destroys hundreds
Why calling one with words that are sour ?
Whilst we thought you are the one with honour
I dreamt of waking up in the middle of Zambezi one day
I slept picturing the beauty of Victoria Falls today
But how will I go there ?
If its residents are being bullied in my home
How will I see such beauty
Whilst guns are rattling next door ??
Ohh! Lord of mercy
The father of billions and trillions
Please come and deliver us from evil
Save us from varnishing
Please protect my Africa
HEAL THY SELF O WOUNDED AFRICA
(no to XENOPHOBIA).
Wake up a voice shouted
You slept like a pregnant woman
While the drum beat of my assagil sounds like trumpet
With fear and deep chill I listened
The ghost of mighty black warrior standing in shiver
As I face the Great Zulu warrior lost in fear
I saw him Shaka cry to the members of Mambers the great Gods of Africa
There before him stands the Mighty Nile in disbelief
With the Niger filled with bloods disagrees to stay calm
The Senegal and the Congo revolted with flood
The orange and the Limpopo grumble and cried as the sky shared their pains with continuous rain pour.
O you failed cried d Zambezi as she invades her neighbors with flood
A knock on my door I heard a voice shout
Speak out for Africa
It is I Kwameh Nkrumah speaking
This is a sacrilegious act echoed the Mighty Zik
When the house is not in order the cockroaches becomes violent
Cried out the anguish voice of Awolowo
From afar I saw a running giant coming with the force of a chariot
Then I heard a voice so mighty was it that the visitors chased it with fear
He a mighty figure decorated and protected by glory of stars
Stood there is burning eyes of anger
Cover in the black glasses with general pride
As curious as a questionnaire
I ventured in to the glorious illusionary scene
Standing before my trembling eyes was The General Abacha in his full stature
Like a Ligtening spark the mighty figure bent his head in shame
As I looked to behold who thou art
There before me I saw The Mighty Mandela in tears of betray
Weep no more thou wounded soul
The thunderous voice of King Sailaise shouted
In council with the great Ghaddafi as furious as
Idi Amin
Sankara frowned like a disgraced old man
While the ghost of Seda Sengho felt it lost its victories like Anthonio lost all his titles
In schock I turned as a firmed hand gently parted my hand
It was a mighty spirit with two heads
It is the heads of the great secretaries
Achebe and Giwa
Handing me a pen a paper
Written on it
Heal thyself O Africa before yesterday bleed to death.
By Parizo Van Thulare
I was born endless miles from the town
Where tales are told about the king in his crown
Where plates are treated same glass
So fragile respect is of the erything
So beautiful My land is stunning
I speak in languages of types
Pepperd with traditions
And dishes of all kinds
African made with the greatest taste
African grilled with inspiring tales
Where I come from mountains sing the sweetest
Rivers play the romance
The Baobabs are cutiest
It is the land of its own kind
My Africa ,my quest
I come far away from the mountains of Drankesnberg
They Roar with beauty .
Near Lies the tunnel of Straitjdom Lepelle flows peacefully
Full of acquatics living blissfully
The words it sings
speak for the trees
It breezes the fume of sighs
With a flavor of purple ice
Down to Mapunghubjwe I rise
My Africa , my best
The history of the greatest is unleashed
It calls upon the genius to come and aphrend
It calls upon the future to come and learn
My Africa ,my pride
I haven't done yet
Get something to write
Still I 'm here to rhyme.
Talk about the bothers of Kruger
Worldwide are known
Worldwide they are shown
The falls of Victoria
The Valleys of Zambezi
The desert of Kalahari
Lobola or mahadi
This is my Africa
See the cars in colors pouring
See nations in rainbows queuing
To see only the biggest
To witness the wrestlemania of the nature
Ohh! what a wonderful adventure
My Africa is my biome
The land of dreams and hopes
All thanks to the almighty for such smashing home
I'm so proud to be an African
I'm so down with my heritage
In the realm of the mighty Chobe-Zambezi,
Where once we thought blessings flowed freely,
I used to look through the river, deep and dazzling,
Its currents whispering stories untold,
Mild and bold, the air's gentle caress,
Looming over a navy sky, a silent witness.
But now the river is a place of torment,
Devouring my people like a beast of prey,
One by one, claimed by its hungry depths,
Beneath our days and nights, are sorrowing weeps,
A thriving community silenced by the tide,
Faces veiled by the watery shroud.
I stand on the shore, uncertainty in my gaze,
Tracing ripples with weary eyes,
Searching for answers in the abyss,
Stories swallowed by the black depth,
I look through the water, praying for reprieve,
Hoping for the river's thirst to be quenched,
Yearning for the lives it has ended to be set free.
In this water-logged tunnel of despair,
Dreams and hopes lost in the murky flow,
I wish for the Chobe to be still,
For the river to fade into memory,
I look through the river, longing for peace,
For the souls it has taken to find release.
Form:
Zambia was my mother—
shaped like a butterfly resting in the heart of Africa,
her wings curved not by nature alone,
but by the lines of empires
who came to take what was never theirs.
They called her Northern Rhodesia,
after tasting the sweetness of her soil
and stealing the copper from her veins.
Her rivers run wild with spirit—
the Zambezi roaring with ancient songs,
Victoria Falls spilling the Smoke that Thunders,
blessing the weary and healing the broken.
She faces the Scorpio Sun,
and her children, like copper,
are strong yet quiet—
holding centuries in their silence.
Kenneth Kaunda once walked her soil,
weeping for Africa when she was in chains,
rejoicing when she rose again.
Zambia holds the bones of my ancestors
and the dreams of the unborn.
Her wilderness breathes with lions,
her sunsets bleed crimson into the night.
Africa cradles her,
and she cradles me.
When I return to dust,
let me rest in her copper-red earth—
for Zambia was my Mother,
and Africa is my Heaven.
My Mother, like many saints, is compassionate,
Though lion-like, my father is considerate;
Like banyan tree, my family is well-branched out,
Grandmas, Grandpa, Uncles, Aunts - all are good; no doubt...
Precious among all, Pink Pearl, I am so lonely,
Cause - though ponder and wonder - I don't know wholly.
My talks are mad monologues; songs senile solo;
I'm my partner to my duet with heart hollow;
I'm a plant getting sun and water with no care,
In friendly fondling freedom folklores, I've no share;
I feel human beings, here, is mortal Islands,
Hearts heartlessly hard; minds murked; life barren dry lands...
I'm slow, soft, somber; savorless; no glory glow,
Deep down in me, like the Zambezi, whirlpools blow;
I look at the sun, moon, stars; not relishing them,
My mind mocks and knocks and cracks in a moody hem;
Seas surreptitious; ships succumbing surmise, shake,
My existence seems like someone's sad mad mistake...
Stories secrete; poetries pour; in my lone tour,
Losing, longing, languishing leads - love's lustrous lore;
Quill leaks; notepad nostalgic; words wildly wide,
Haunted heart - highest hopping horse- rugs rue rough ride;
Love lone, though looks lost, has its marvelous turning,
Lamenting lonely life lures cheery churning...
15 September 2021
''L'' Contest New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Soon,
The sacred black ashes and dark disfigured, but resilient bones of our enslaved, enraged and estranged ancestors,
Will awake from their centuries of dazed, polluted and denigrated slumber, to reclaim, revamp their bastardized and emasculated glories;
Glories, tainted with the dung of barbecued corruption, oppression and suppression from our headmasters'
Soon,
Our ancestors will release us from the shackles, fiery clutches,
And strangle hold of our lost generation and visionless leaders; On whose account countless sacred soul cases, Son's and Daughters of our Sacred Land have lost their lives;
From the choke hold of hunger, starvation and countless numbers of preventable diseases plaguing our continent, in an insidious show that defies all logic
Like Noah,
Africa is gathering all it's sacred children,
From Karuru falls, River Niger, Limpopo River to River Zambezi,
Into it's Sacred Ark, to wean them from the cloak and spikes
Of centuries of slavery, colonialism, neocolonialism, suppression, oppression and corruption;
Which like a defiant, merciless, remorseless and pitiless pediculosis, has gigantically matriculated with tentacles, into the Sacred roots and bowels Of mother Africa!
Zambezi's strength rules
who can harness our river?
electricity from water?
Nyami, Nyami
Kariba Dam damaged
by six decades of water
the Tonga tribes celebrate
Nyami, Nyami
May 10, 2022
Joseph May's contest on Naani.
Two naani of 24 syllables each
current statements about currents
When the Kariba Dam was built on the Zambezi, the Tonga people had doubts.
The dam was built on gneiss and quartzite and is made of concrete — 80 feet at its thickest point. But over six decades of the waters' rushing through it, tumbling over it and crashing down on its other side have carved a pit at its base and erosion threatens its foundations. July 22, 2020
The very thought of a naani about Nyam Nyami sparked my muse.
It is the River God of the Tonga people.