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Best Poems Written by Amos Momo Ngumbu Jr

Below are the all-time best Amos Momo Ngumbu Jr poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Africa, Wake Up

Africa, Africa,

Africa Wake up, wake up,
Your time of success is coming,
The future awaits you.
Wake up from your seat & walk,
You're not there to stay.

Africa, Africa,

You have a dream to work on.
Stop sleeping in your dream.
Your friends are heading to their,
Journeys.

Africa, Africa,

The hope is still there, what are you,
Thinking of?
Is it natural resources?
No, no, no, no Africa, l don't think so.
You have all, but you don't want to put,
Them to use.

Africa, Africa,

When l turn right, l see mysterious of things,
Occuring on the surface of Africa.
When l turn left, l see tears rolling down,
The map of Africa.

Africa, Africa,

You are the problem to your children.
When l think of the physical features,
Tears roll down my eyes creeping towards,
The center of my chest.

Africa, Africa,

Iron ores, we export them and import,
Vehicles.
Why don't we use those ores in,
Manufacturing those imported vehicles.
Why Africa?
Africa problem is Africa.

©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.

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Fear In My Certian Liberia

Poem entitled: "FEAR IN MY CERTAIN, LIBERIA"
Written By: A.M Ngumbu, Jr.

"Fear In My Certain, Liberia.

Long long ago,
During days of our decedents,
Fear had been defined,
As a natural, powerful,
Primitive human emotion.

But nowadays, my certain,
Has mistakenly taken love, for fear.

A fear of education,
A love of prostitution.
She's been abused,
By the evil deeds, of her children.
Fear to speak out the truth,
A love to take away a life,
In the name of riches.

She's in the light of love,
Fighting to touch,
The darkness of fear.
Oh Liberia!
You have brought us this far,
With conditional love.
Should you be considered,
The oldest African republic,
When you merit fear, over love?

My greatest desire,
That hope that has overcome,
Fear in my certain will.
Help vanquish it,
Around the world.

I love my country,
Fear my government.
A fear of development,
Love of corruption.

Where tireless striving, 
Stretch its arm toward perfection.
Where the clear stream,
Reason has not lost,
Its way into the dreary desert,
Sand of dead habit.

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What Will I Tell God

What will l tell God?

Will dead excuses be the language spoken,
Through his ears?
Will my face be hidden when narrating,
The story of my past?

So lonely I'm, for guiltiness has eaten,
Up my face in its silent mood.
The mind in my mind can no longer,
Capture the scene of the past.

Nakedness and beer bottles were my,
Daily meals.
Some admired me of my sexy look, while,
Some called me aside for advice, but insults,
Were their daily results.

I now regret my past, if I'm to miss the,
Gateway of heaven, who will l blame?
Would it be night clubs or fornication?
Would it be my crushes who have turned,  
To Roaches?

I was born as a servant of God, but,
The gravity of night clubs and materials,
Things have pulled me down.
My heart is now a place of discomfort.

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Judge Not My Face

Will you continue to judge me by the,
Appearance of my face?
It's just a symbol of my body that my,
Mind has been crafted into.

So lonely I sit and watch those who have,
Badly set their eyes on me.
If I have the strength, I would hang my,
Face and display my heart to you.

Many at times, rumors have been the,
Language spoken about many faces.
Judge me not by my face for it might,
Lead you to hate.

We're of two faced people, l guess.
Living our lives behind the mask of a
Beautiful smile.
Yet , bitterness is written all over our mind.

The real me is my soul not my face, 
It's just a crafted soul.
Please me love for I may be your needed,
Soul.

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Africa Is Not Poor

Africa is not poor,
Do you know why?
There are lot of minerals that are,
Form within Africa.
Just that Africa problem is Africans.

Oh Africa!
You're wealthy with vast minerals.
You're not poor, but the scrambled,
For you had led you to your downfall,
You're in the midst of minerals, but fighting,
To touch it garments.

Oh Africa!
It's a simple statement, repeated through,
A thousand images, newspaper & charity,
Appeals each year, so it takes on the,
Weight of truth.

When we read it, we reinforce assumptions,
And stories about you that we have heard,
Throughout our lives then,
We reconfirm our image of you.

Go America, Canada, or other white countries,
You'll notice that their wealths are seen as,
A give and pay, but in Africa,
Everything we own, we buy them with our,
Finances.

Although the African continent is,
Blessed with oil, diamond, gold etc, but,
Some African countries are numbered for, 
Being the poorest in the world.
Oh Africa, why?
She has been looted.

©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.

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African Child

Listen as I pour my soul into you.
African Child,
A child whose wants to be like the,
Westerners, but his mindset has been Corrupted,

A child whose has forsaken his or her own,
Culture, but has adapted foreign ones.
Culture assimilation has now become,
His fruit.
What does this child want?

At first, slavery was his end-meat as he,
Has been exchanged by his ancestors for,
Bonny and clothes.
He sells his riches in exchange of pleasure,
To the Westerners.

A child who no longer has his motherland,
At heart.
He tries to fly,
To Europe and America in the name of,
Slow-way.

A child who has now Prioritize,
Gangesterism over Education.
A child whose future has been projected,
But rejected with black hands.
His lips are now the symbol of his heart.

©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.

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Crying Africa

Rape her not,
For She, is the daughter of beauty.
But she has been manually abused 
By her four living children,
North, West, South and East Africa.
She cries in ancient and black suns.


Using her as a vamp,
In generating a so-called revenue?
She cries tears of blood.
Bleeds in the continuous present,
In an imperfect, old, and unlikely future.


She cries from dark eyes,
With unfortunate tears,
A vast and geographic cry.
She is an abundance of natural resources,
But still she cries,
Of roads, schools, and hospitals.


She cries of hot pains,
Like blood leaving her veins and arteries,
Of salty tears.
She cries in corruption and depression.


©®2021
A.M Ngumbu Jr

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The Day Africa Lost Her Virginity

She was living the best of life in,
The midst of her friends with an,
Angelic voice.
She was admired by everyone with hate.

In the late 1884 to early 1885, she's planned,
To be raped in the name of conference;
Where her parts were partition among her
Evil peers.

She was involved into a gang raped with,
Europe and America, where she lost her,
Virginity instantly, then, some of her parts,
Were called pepper coast, & lion mountain.

She bleeds continuously in the midst,
Of her beauty.
She uses memories to wipe away her blood.
Everyone tuned their backs on her.

Those rapists no longer have time for her,
Illness.
They are all creeping to steal away her,
Beauty.

Before she was raped, she was nicely,
Called the birth place of mankind, 
But now, one of her parts is now said,
To be called "The White Men Grave".

©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.

Details | Amos Momo Ngumbu Jr Poem

My Lost Pen

"A collaborative Poem"

Poem Entitled: "MY LOST PEN"
Written By: Amos & Bennie S Alan



A.M Ngumbu, Jr.

Is my favorite writing tool stays at home?
For l have searched every corners of my life, 
But it can't be found.
If found, please return for my future 
Maybe in loneliness.
It has the key to my future.


Bennie S. Alan

My lost pen - my life,
It blew away my strife,
And loved me like a wife.
My lost pen, sharp piercing knife,
At the pharynx of my strife,
Breathing words of life,
Into every lonely soul.


A.M Ngumbu Jr.

But how can this be again when my pen has Betrayed me?
Before 3 days, l lost you somewhere.
I searched you everywhere.
I blame my buddy Meme; As the reason of your losing


Bennie S Alan

When my love left me in the dark,
My lost pen was a light.
When the moon was unbeautiful,
My lost pen told me,
It will be alright.
When I was broken in tears,
My lost pen fly me high like a kite.
Like the prodigal son,
It was lost but now it is back.



A.M Ngumbu Jr

It was the pen that taught me the letters of the Alphabet.
For my foundation was built not to be hidden.
What I'm going to tell the future?
Losing my pen is like losing my future.
It's the compass to my future.



Bennie S. Alan

My lost pen, an arrow of love,
Peircing every heart, 
Whether near or far.
My lost pen, a holy dove,
Restoring peace from above.
My lost pen never failed me,
When I was lost in love.
Tears flow like a creek or river.
Emotions put my soul in danger.
My lost pen was there beside me,
Loving me madly.

©®2021

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Careless Love

Kindly allow my heart takes stage,
To elaborate the mood & feeling,
Of it disasters.
I have walked a very narrow road,
That has led me to pains & sorrows,
Just to link your heart to mine,
But there's nothing seen possible.

Will l be a hoper of yours, when my,
Heart has been a trash to your camp?
Please me love for l may be the thoughts,
To your feeling.
My heart bleeds pounds of blood when it's, meant for tear.

You have stood so far with a betraying,
Heart that has bleed me with conditionals,
Love & feeling.
My heart bleeds that it can no longer, Encounter the feelings of perfection.

Allow me to touch the garments of your,
Love for l shall be made whole.
I have realized that money can't take,
The pain when my heart cries.
Oh! My heart bleed to loneliness.

I have taken so many bullets for you,
But l have realized that you're the one,
Behind the gun.
But one day, I'll start messing with your feeling,
And you'll get mad because l finally learned,
How to play your game.

©®2021
A.M Ngumbu, Jr.