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A Far Cry From Africa

A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt

Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies,
Batten upon the bloodstreams of the veldt.
Corpses are scattered through a paradise.
Only the worm, colonel of carrion, cries:
'Waste no compassion on these separate dead!'
Statistics justify and scholars seize
The salients of colonial policy.
What is that to the white child hacked in bed?
To savages, expendable as Jews?
Threshed out by beaters, the long rushes break
In a white dust of ibises whose cries
Have wheeled since civilizations dawn
>From the parched river or beast-teeming plain.
The violence of beast on beast is read
As natural law, but upright man
Seeks his divinity by inflicting pain.
Delirious as these worried beasts, his wars
Dance to the tightened carcass of a drum,
While he calls courage still that native dread
Of the white peace contracted by the dead.
Again brutish necessity wipes its hands
Upon the napkin of a dirty cause, again
A waste of our compassion, as with Spain,
The gorilla wrestles with the superman.
I who am poisoned with the blood of both,
Where shall I turn, divided to the vein?
I who have cursed
The drunken officer of British rule, how choose
Between this Africa and the English tongue I love?
Betray them both, or give back what they give?
How can I face such slaughter and be cool?
How can I turn from Africa and live?

A Memorial of Africa
Upon a rock I sat-a mountain-side,
Far, far forsaken of the old sea's lip;
A rock where ancient waters' rise and dip,
Recoil and plunge, eddy, and oscillant tide,
Had worn and worn, while races lived and died,
Involved channels. Where the sea-weed's drip
Followed the ebb, now crumbling lichens sip
Sparse dews of heaven that down with sunset slide.
I sat long-gazing southward. A dry flow
Of withering wind sucked up my drooping strength,
Itself weak from the desert's burning length.
Behind me piled, away and up did go
Great sweeps of savage mountains-up, away,
Where snow gleams ever, panthers roam, they say.
This infant world has taken long to make,
Nor hast Thou done with it, but mak'st it yet,
And wilt be working on when death has set
A new mound in some churchyard for my sake.
On flow the centuries without a break;
Uprise the mountains, ages without let;
The lichens suck; the hard rock's breast they fret;
Years more than past, the young earth yet will take.
But in the dumbness of the rolling time,
No veil of silence shall encompass meThou wilt not once forget and let me be;
Rather wouldst thou some old chaotic prime
Invade, and, moved by tenderness sublime,
Unfold a world, that I, thy child, might see.

Childhood rememberances are
always a drag if you're Black
you always remember things like
living in Woodlawn with no inside toilet
and if you become famous or something
They never talk about how happy
you were to have your mother
all to yourself and how good the
water felt when you got your bath
from one of those
Big tubs that folk in chicago barbeque
in and somehow when you talk
about home
it never gets across how much you
understood their feelings as the
whole family attended meetings
About Hollydale and even though you
remember your biographers never
understand your father's pain as he
sells his stock and another
dream goes
And though your're poor it isn't
poverty that concerns you and
though they fought a lot
it isn't your father's drinking that
makes any difference but only that
Everybody is together and you
and your sister have happy birthdays
and very good Christmasses and I
really hope no white person ever has
cause to write about me
because they never understand
Black love is Black wealth and they'll
probably talk about my hard childhood
and never understand that
all the while I was quite happy

A Negro Love Song

Seen my lady home las' night,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hel' huh han' an' sque'z it tight,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd huh sigh a little sigh,
Seen a light gleam f'om huh eye,
An' a smile go flittin' by -Jump back, honey, jump back.
Hyeahd de win' blow thoo de pine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Mockin'-bird was singin' fine,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
An' my hea't was beatin' so,
When I reached my lady's do',
Dat I could n't ba' to go -Jump back, honey, jump back.
Put my ahm aroun' huh wais',
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Raised huh lips an' took a tase,
Jump back, honey, jump back.
Love me, honey, love me true?
Love me well ez I love you?
An' she answe'd, "'Cose I do"-Jump back, honey, jump back.

An Echo from Africa

Da ruction happen by Nicko's place
Las' week, in da deada da night.
Da copper he very near cop da case
Accounta da fish-shop fight
In da great beeg international way
Dat wrecka da oyster bar.
Now Nicko he grinda da tooth an' say,
'Da white-a man rule, by gar!'
Sammo, da slush, wit' da dark-tan face,
Scale an' clean-a fish
Long time he toila by Nicko's place,
Washa da dirty dish.
But Nicko he say, 'Da t'ings get slow;
Dis war make da beezness slack.
Dat Sammo, da slush, he have to go.'
So Nicko he sacka da black.
Las-a night, when Sammo he come for da
His eye got da look like-a dirt.
But, Nicko, he say to heem, like in fun,
'Take-a dat, black scuma da eart'.'
Den Sammo he scowl aroun' da shop
An' he grabba da long, fat eel,
An' he smacka poor Nicko right in da chop
So he fall head over heel!

But Nicko come up wi' da Musso glare,

An' he seize-a da ten-poun' schnap.
Ah, I only wisha dat you been dere;
You see-a da bonza scrap!!
Dey smash-a da souce-bot, smash-a da chair,
Dey smash-a da glass partish,
Dey smash-a da pot-plant topa da stair;
An' da place all cover wit' fish!
Den Sammo he tread on da gar-fish head,
An' da foot fly up in da air,
An' he come-a down flop an' lie like dead
When he banga da head on da chair.
An' Nicko he grab heem quick by da feet
An' drag heem outa da door,
An' he say, as he fling heem into da street,
'Dat feenish my Afric war.'
But Nicko he same like a change man now;
All over da shop he fuss;
He flash-a da eye an' he knit-a da brow,
An' he stick out da jaw like-a Muss.
An' he look each customer close by da face
For da sign of da bad, black drop.
Den he grind-a da tooth if he twig da trace:
'Abyssin! Get outta my shop!'

The African Chief

Chained in the market-place he stood,
A man of giant frame,
Amid the gathering multitude
That shrunk to hear his name-All stern of look and strong of limb,
His dark eye on the ground:-And silently they gazed on him,
As on a lion bound.
Vainly, but well, that chief had fought,
He was a captive now,
Yet pride, that fortune humbles not,
Was written on his brow.
The scars his dark broad bosom wore,
Showed warrior true and brave;
A prince among his tribe before,
He could not be a slave.
Then to his conqueror he spake-'My brother is a king;
Undo this necklace from my neck,
And take this bracelet ring,
And send me where my brother reigns,
And I will fill thy hands
With store of ivory from the plains,
And gold-dust from the sands.'
'Not for thy ivory nor thy gold
Will I unbind thy chain;
That bloody hand shall never hold
The battle-spear again.
A price thy nation never gave
Shall yet be paid for thee;
For thou shalt be the Christian's slave,
In lands beyond the sea.'
Then wept the warrior chief, and bade
To shred his locks away;
And one by one, each heavy braid
Before the victor lay.
Thick were the platted locks, and long,

And closely hidden there

Shone many a wedge of gold among
The dark and crisped hair.
'Look, feast thy greedy eye with gold
Long kept for sorest need:
Take it--thou askest sums untold,
And say that I am freed.
Take it--my wife, the long, long day,
Weeps by the cocoa-tree,
And my young children leave their play,
And ask in vain for me.'
'I take thy gold--but I have made
Thy fetters fast and strong,
And ween that by the cocoa shade
Thy wife will wait thee long.'
Strong was the agony that shook
The captive's frame to hear,
And the proud meaning of his look
Was changed to mortal fear.
His heart was broken--crazed his brain:
At once his eye grew wild;
He struggled fiercely with his chain,
Whispered, and wept, and smiled;
Yet wore not long those fatal bands,
And once, at shut of day,
They drew him forth upon the sands,
The foul hyena's prey.

African Interlude
I t'inkin' da war now go for stop
Between Black Sammo, da slush,
An' Nicko, da boss of da fry-fish shop.
All sound of da conflic' hush
Since da corner-a cop he putta da foot
Down firm an' talk tinna tack;
For Nicko see wer he notta so goot
If he make-a da beezness slack.
For da corner-a cop made food for t'ink
When he spika to Nick an' say
He apply-a da sanc' so quick like-a wink
An' Nicko, he have-a to pay.
If da customer stop for come to da shop
How da beezness carryin' on?
More better, Nick t'inkin', for war to flop
If he goin' for lose da mon'.
So da cop make term for da peace discush,
All da same like lig-a-da-Naish,
'Twix' Nicko, de boss, an' Sammo, da slush,
An' dey bote getta com-a-da-saish:
For Sammo he getta two Friday free
Each-a mont' for kick-a da heel;
An' Nicko he getta clean plate two, t'ree,
Four time for each-a day meal.
But, Nicko, he go wit' da t'oughtful eye
An' mooch-a; he shake-a da head;
He donna look like-a he satisfy
When all-a been done an' said.

Jumbo Jet
I saw a little elephant standing in my garden,
I said 'You don't belong in here', he said 'I beg you pardon?',
I said 'This place is England, what are you doing here?',
He said 'Ah, then I must be lost' and then 'Oh dear, oh dear'.
'I should be back in Africa, on Saranghetti's Plain',
'Pray, where is the nearest station where I can catch a train?'.
He caught the bus to Finchley and then to Mincing lane,
And over the Embankment, where he got lost, again.
The police they put him in a cell, but it was far too small,
So they tied him to a lampost and he slept against the wall.
But as the policemen lay sleeping by the twinkling light of dawn,
The lampost and the wall were there, but the elephant was gone!
So if you see an elephant, in a Jumbo Jet,
You can be sure that Africa's the place he's trying to get!

Africa's hungry children

Kevin Carter zoomed his camera lens, that day in94,
A starving child in Sudan, was knocking at deaths door,
One vulture and one journalist; both mere meters away,
Both with different agendas; but a dying babe their prey.
A world stood aghast and horrified, by that photo in the Times,
Starvations morbid clock unveiled, its ticking and its chimes,
But two would reap the benefit of this poor childs demise,
Sudan much needed food and aid and Carter, a Pulitzer Prize.
We dare not stand in judgment; for we were never there;
Africa is an angry land; fermenting poverty and despair,
Dont touch the sick and dying Kevin Carter had been told;
He abandoned that poor child, as other scenes did unfold.
Plagued by haunting vivid memories, of Africas en-rapt pain,
Those abandoned starving children, surely drove this man insane,
He observed first hand, our tragic land, we seldom comprehend;
Driving him, just three month hence his tormented life to end.
Lord when will the suffering cease, in Africa so sublime?
Will ever we be a land, free of hunger, strife and crime?
Will the image of Kevins photo, open up our ailing eyes,
And open up our deaf earsto our hungry childrens cries?

African Queen

Dedicated To a South African poet on Poemhunter...Cindy Kreiner Sera

With carefully chosen words she draws,
On an African canvas which she adores,
Then paints her pictures in colorful hues,
Light shades of darkness, to bluest of blues.
Compassion lies deep within her bone marrow,
For our parched land, its pain and its sorrow,
From Africa crying with its aches and pains
To the joy that comes, with the blessed rains.
She holds South Africa in the palm of her hand,
Passionately dedicated to Gods beautiful land.
Cindy Kreiner Sera, is our poets dear name,
Seeking no glamour, neither fortune nor fame.
A poetic genius, both humble and wise,
Worthy, we all think, of a Nobel Prize.
An equal to Cindy, has yet to be seen,
Our precious poetour African Queen.
Alf Hutchison :


Aids rages out of control savaging the continent of Africa

He lies near to death

Dying in the dust
Broken and forgot.
Now his children
Once mighty tribes
Fall before the setting sun.
His women - young and old
Dead and dying
Host the killer AIDS.
He calls for help
To rich brothers in the West
But his cries fall upon stone-deaf ears.
For they can find no profit
In supplying HIV drugs
To those who cannot pay.
Colin Ian Jeffery :

I am an African

Not because im black.

But because my heart warms
And tears run down my face
When i think about AFRICA.
I am an African,
Not because i live here,
But because the African
Sun lit my paths.
Because the air that i breath
Is from these majestic mountains.
That air nurtured me
Growing up.
I am an African,
Not because i can speak
Swahili, Shona, Zulu or Xhosa.
But because my heart is
Shaped like a question mark,
Just like AFRICA.
I am an African,
Not because i am black,
But because my umbilical cord
Is burried under the majestic
Mountains of AFRICA.
Siyabonga A Nxumalo :

My Africa Home
My Africa, my home
As I cast back my mind
To days before I left
Before you left me impotent
Before the wars broke
Before thieves and looters
Who parade themselves
As politicians
Took over your affairs
Before morale and hopes
were lost, and both old
And young, left your shores
To 'I dont know where'
When I think of what
This modernisation has
done to you, I weep;
Men, thinking,
and inventing
New and more
sophisticated kind of
For the destruction of the
Fellow man.
It is almost three decades
now, and I still think of you
Like yesterday.
Efe Benjamin :

! ! Spirit of Africa

visit Africa,
to spend time
to notice
beauty of the land.
To feel its heat,
to drink its waters,
to observe, to marvel,
at its creatures,
great and small.
To see the diversity
of its people, in all
their rainbow shades,
to feel their warmth,
their love, their
Means Africa,
has touched your soul,
you have breathed in
a love of Africa, a love
that never ceases,
a love that never
goes away.
you have been
delighted, charmed,
have become
enchanted by
The Spirit of Africa.
For Africa is a
land of spirits,

they occupy dirt,

soil, trees, flowers
fruit, food that feeds;
the mountains, streams,
rivers, seas, oceans,
air, the breath of life, and
all the people of its land.
Africa believes,
that before time,
things began,
there was nothing,
save for a void,
a sphere of spirit
that knew no limit;
it did not have a name.
This one spirit split
broke up, spread,
to change, to
create our world,
and all thats here.
This one spirit
known to us as love
stays the same, to
invade all it made,
all that visit, especially
those that stay.
Now if you leave,
youll always
yearn, youll hunger

youll always
have that longing
to return.

Bob Blackwell :

Africa's Soul

I have never been to Africa

I have only seen programs on TV
Verdant jungles teeming with wildlife
and deep, dark mysteries unexplored then
invaded and exploited bringing in the past
the many changes
The plains teeming with lions and
caught in the web of life like we are chained
by a pattern, a cycle that ensnares as Fate
deals its blows
The news tells of humankind's reoccurring
and constant plight: War Violence Starvation
the upperhand in an ancient land so vast.
There should be none of these bad things
just the songs and happy stories of ancient
the heartbeat of Africa's soul
And then I read the poems of their poets
that tell of hope and courage and dreams
as the people rise above their desperation
and breathe the wind of change for the new

I have never been to amazing Africa
but everything that is found there can be
found here too
I have often said Humanity's greatest
would be if we could ever maintain world
and sow the freewill seeds of our fate by
our own hands and thoughts and actions
I have never been to Africa
a land so teeming with life, history and
Everywhere in this world there beats a
loving heart
and peaceful mind filled with thoughts,
dreams and desires that begin in the home
and raises the human spirit to soaring
and speaks of freedom.
I have never been to Africa
and its people have a dream to realize
to reach and grab and hold on to
and break free to make a better life
for their futures in verdant, vast, ancient
dynamic soul.

Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black :

Rich With Natural Resources

Africa is a continent rich with natural resources!
But, its nationals are hungry;
However, the confindential acts from my pen will always write,
For you to read about the muse of Africa.
Oh Africa! !
With the muse of 'Madam-Easy-Life' affecting many;
With the paths of the lines taken only for easy money,
To get rich quick than, following after the laid down rules.
Once a while i do think about it!
About the very ways of the youth today;
Many have to learn; but, others do not know! !
Living in a continent full of natural resources.
The earth is full of stories and, Africa has its own stories as well;
With leaders saying things which are not clear to the minds of others,
Leading to the brain drain.
Image, encourage, age, courage, stahe, page, advantage, vantage, marriage, carriage,
As the heavy rains came in to wash away the choked gutters;
But, Africa is a continent rich with natural resources,
However, the pains of life are much seen in Africa today.
Oh Africa! !
Like the days of slavery with a heavy chain on one's neck;
But, where lies the future of the nationals of Africa?
Natural resources! !
But, for how long will the African leaders sleep with them?
Edward Kofi Louis

They Came
They came,
In wind propelled ships,
Loaded with goods for trade on many trips.
They came,
Amid peace in our beloved Africa
Foolishly we heartily welcomed them to
As they traded they eyed, rather greedily our

They came,
In broad daylight and we gave them the
African welcome
They returned in darkness to poach, thieve
& rape abusing our welcome

They came,
Were mystified and dumbfounded
By immense riches that were to be found

They came,
Used the bible to soften our hearts & make
us meek in prayer
While Africa's eyes were closed in prayer
A systematic plundering was in progress
Africa awoke to find her lands in their hands
& this she could not redress

They came,
Several times their numbers increasing
Maybe then they were testing our reasoning

They came,
When we had the land
While they had the bible

They came,
With a bible
To make us idle

They came,
And managed to give us the bible
While they took the land

They came,
To introduce to us a foreign religion
Making us forsake our own religion

They came,
To rule and divide us thinking they were

It was for long but never forever

They came,
Finally to apologise and be friends albeit to
our cost
Politically they realised they had lost

To tell us how to draft even a basic

economic policy
Still we let them experiment with many an
economic policy
Africa rise - and force march them back
And make sure they never come back

Then they came,

Wensislaus Mbirimi

My Dad Must be Mad

My dad is the wealthiest man
On the coast of Africa.
So wealthy he owns a million
oil wells
So powerful they call him
Big Brother Africa
But my wealthy and mighty dad
is also a suffering man
A man afflicted by a curse
A mad man afflicted by a curse
A man must be mad or cursed man
To persist in his suffering in
The abundance of cure
My dad must be mad or cursed
To know the cure to his suffering
And continue to suffer
My dad is a great man
They call him the giant of Africa
His real name is Nigeria
A blessing to the world
A curse unto himself

A Lament for True Heroes

Africa! true heroes have all passed, awake
Now is time for new heroes to come
To save this land from imminent vibrations

Africa is the first Africa is the last of our own

Save Africa from annex and hunger for gold
Come heroes, awake Africa our home
Africa will soon be nothing but a bare field
Hundreds of ships are laden with gold daily dancing away
The beauty of Africa is coming to a weeping end
Urgently, urgently i'm in search for heroes
I feel the remains of the old humming in silence
The best of Africa has a white man's name
Let us unite forces behind the economy of our own
And strengthen our beloved land Africa
The potential for Africa is rich, do not bow to death
The out flow of our tears will run until the end of pain
Our tears must pierce a man until the burden is gone
I will not sleep, i will not sit, i will not stand and
Watch The cream of Africa packed into sizes to another man's land
Where are the heroes in this continent?
Disbanded into puppets for pleasure and treasure
Ah! dead sons and daughters i feel your pain
To own a land so rich and watch it swept away
I lay no blame for in-viable defeats but cowardice
What use is there to a good land without heroes
Melikhaya Zagagana


Let's make this call to America

From the heart beat of Africa
Long ago when they came
To polished good will
When the Chiefs and kings
Sold me beyond my will
Labeled me days in servitude
Now an international conspiracy
With the same old tricks
Whether it be for it treasures
Gold and diamond
Borax and bauxite
Labor and jinx
O me, O my Africa!
I have seen this goblin before
Still treating me the same
With the same old tricks
Segregated before
Now they say touch not
Bereaved not
A true replicate
Of man's monster message'
Mohamed Alpha Ba

Available To Them
You speak of clean water everyday,
But, come and see the colour of the waters in Africa;
And, the poor people are ready to drink any kind of water available to them.
In Africa,
With the survival of the fitters;
Come and see where a worker is paid less than a Dollar a day,
To make ends meet in the heat of Africa.
let the African Governments draw out their pans for you to see,
Before you back them up with loans and grants;
Then, you will understand where the money goes!
With street children here and there.
The struggle of life,
In Africa!
Paid less than a Dollar a day;
For survival! !
And, to make ends meet when, there are Governments ruling over us in Afirca.

Citizens Of Nowhere
Citizens of nowhere
A stroll ball of hope,
You quest for a change
Here is the challenge.
Citizens of nowhere
Your fathers slept when others were sowing
They killed your quest,
Now you are caught within the harvest
citizens of nowhere
your skies were brite in blues, with stains of red
in green hope of life untainted
Your lands packed full of gamblers
They undermines your aspirations
I saw your little kids squats in open fields
In search of blue diamonds
Who has turn to modern slaves
Carrying the blessings of the gods
Citizens of nowhere
Your Africa is crying
Your Africa is pleading,
Your Africa is calling
While your watch men are sleeping.
Nna Joseph Odinakachukwu

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