A Far Cry From AfricaA 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 AfricaI.

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.

II.

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 me- Thou 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.

Nikki-RosaChildhood 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 SongSeen 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 AfricaDa 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 mon', 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 ChiefChained 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 InterludeI 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 JetI 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 in’94, A starving child in Sudan, was knocking at death’s 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, Starvation’s morbid clock unveiled, its ticking and its chimes, But two would reap the benefit of this poor child’s 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, “Don’t 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 Africa’s 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 Kevin’s photo, open up our ailing eyes, And open up our deaf ears…to our hungry children’s cries?

African QueenDedicated 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 God’s 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 poet…our African Queen.

Alf Hutchison :

BROTHER AFRICAAids 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 everyday, New and more sophisticated kind of weapons, 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

To visit Africa, to spend time to notice beauty of the land. To feel its heat, to drink it’s 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 big-heartedness.

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, before, 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 that’s 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, you’ll always yearn, you’ll hunger you’ll always have that longing to return.

14-07-2009

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 wilderbeast 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 pattern and constant plight: War Violence Starvation get the upperhand in an ancient land so vast. There should be none of these bad things

just the songs and happy stories of ancient times,

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 days ahead

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 achievement would be if we could ever maintain world peace 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 culture. 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 heights 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 Africa's 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, miscarriage! 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? Resources!

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 AfricaFoolishly we heartily welcomed them to AfricaAs they traded they eyed, rather greedily our Africa

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

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

They came, With a bible

To make us idle

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

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

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

They came,

When we had the landWhile they had the bible

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

They came, To rule and divide us thinking they were cleverIt was for long but never forever

They came,

Finally to apologise and be friends albeit to our costPolitically they realised they had lost

Then they came, To tell us how to draft even a basic economic policyStill we let them experiment with many an economic policyAfrica rise - and force march them backAnd make sure they never come back

Wensislaus Mbirimi

My Dad Must be Mad

My dad is the wealthiest manOn the coast of Africa.

So wealthy he owns a millionoil wells

So powerful they call himBig Brother Africa

But my wealthy and mighty dadis also a suffering man

A man afflicted by a curseA mad man afflicted by a curse

A man must be mad or cursed manTo persist in his suffering in

The abundance of cureMy dad must be mad or cursed

To know the cure to his sufferingAnd continue to suffer

My dad is a great manThey call him the giant of Africa

His real name is NigeriaA blessing to the world

A curse unto himself

A Lament for True Heroes

Africa! true heroes have all passed, awakeNow is time for new heroes to come

To save this land from imminent vibrationsAfrica is the first Africa is the last of our ownSave Africa from annex and hunger for gold

Come heroes, awake Africa our homeAfrica will soon be nothing but a bare field

Hundreds of ships are laden with gold daily dancing awayThe 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 silenceThe best of Africa has a white man's name

Let us unite forces behind the economy of our ownAnd 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 painOur tears must pierce a man until the burden is gone

I will not sleep, i will not sit, i will not stand andWatch 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 treasureAh! dead sons and daughters i feel your pain

To own a land so rich and watch it swept awayI lay no blame for in-viable defeats but cowardiceWhat use is there to a good land without heroes

Melikhaya Zagagana

THE DUBIOUS EBOLA GAME

Let's make this call to America From the heart beat of AfricaLong ago when they came

To polished good willWhen the Chiefs and kings Sold me beyond my will

Labeled me days in servitudeNow an international conspiracy

With the same old tricks Whether it be for it treasures

Gold and diamondBorax and bauxite

Labor and jinxO me, O my Africa!

I have seen this goblin beforeStill treating me the sameWith the same old tricks

Segregated beforeNow they say touch not

Bereaved notA 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 nowhereYour 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 gamblersThey 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 nowhereYour Africa is crying

Your Africa is pleading, Your Africa is calling

While your watch men are sleeping.

Nna Joseph Odinakachukwu