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Letters From Africa: The Modern African Poetry Compilation (Chapter One)

African poetry

CHAPTER ONE: THE ART OF POETRY

 

 

 

“The Message Is”

 

Encrypted words across

My tender brain

So young yet age

Defies my justice

The voice of education

Ignored along my days

I shall embrace the life

I chose to practice

Encode the words

And spell the meaning

Correct my wrongs

And write the feeling

 

The message is but

What was told

Regret your choices

And reap what you sow

Through mistakes we learn

We grow old

Do we grow wise as well?

Who knows?

Encode the words

And rebuild wisdom

Our future kings have

Burnt the kingdom

 

Stranded we roam

Like spirits unease

Africa burning

People are dying

I watch from afar;

This deadly disease

Churches are scams

Prophets are lying

Encode the words

And teach religion

But who will learn

We were born rebels

 

Deep inside

The shadows of death

I embark on a journey

Towards change

I’m just a poet

But I’ll take that path

Imagine a world

Without a thing strange

Encode the words

And read the messages

But this is what the message is


 

“My Alphabet”

 

 

A is for angry

The emotion that I have

B is for boring

The teacher at the front

C is for caring

The feeling that I crave

D is for dangerous

The look in my eyes

E is for elation

The feeling I’ve never known

F is for forgiving

Something I’ll never do

 

G is for grand

The kind of life I crave

H is for help

That no one ever gave

I is for imagination

The only asset I own

J is for Jordan

The corrupt government official

K is for killer

That the judge set free

L is for love

That is only a dream

 

M is for money

That the government embezzles

N is for natives

That suffer everyday

O is for oppression

That we face everyday

P is for poem

The only voice I have left

Q is for questions

That have no answers

R is for religion

That now exploits us.

 

S is for slums

Where most of us live

T is for torture

Every day that I live

U is for unity

Nothing but a theory

V is for virginity

That has lost sense and meaning

W is for water

That has not become scarce

X is for x-ray

To see through our government

Y is for youth

Who know no truth

Z is for zeal

To be done with this regime

 

That is my alphabet

With all I have seen and heard

And even if you try so hard

I will surely be heard

And put an end

To a situation that is so sad.

 

 

 

 

“The Poet’s Arithmetic”

 

With his canoe, he paddled on the lone sand

Deafening noise and yet no sound

For years he awaited the sun’s appearance at night

He grew so weak that he became a knight

 

His greatest fear is that he is fearless

Taking caution with him implies one is careless

Those in his future died in the time past

So slow that he won every race before they start

 

Perfectly imperfect to be seen as perfect

Gallantly, he strolled around the crowded but empty market

And towards the woman who was the husband of her wife

Then she sold to the man who neither came to buy nor sell

 

Long life to the king destined to die young

Through whom their happiest sorrow “sprung”

Sadly, they composed the song for his coronation

Happily, it was sang at his funeral

Where he delivered a speech as their general

 

The lines are hidden inside the moon

You need a missal to crack this.

 

 

“Why?”

 

Why do I write?

Because it’s right

To give people some light

On the happenings of the site

 

Why do I write?

Because it takes me to heights

Not of fright

But of flight

Even during the night

 

Why do I write?

Because it make me feel like a knight

In the on-going fight

Who makes it look bright?

 

Why do I write?

Because my words no longer bite

Or make them quiet

But it makes me speak and bring sight

To those reading on the sheet so white

Held in their hands so tight

 

I write

To speak my mind

To inform

Reform

And be informed

 

I write to express

And not to oppress

 

I write to bring happiness

And a hint of sadness

But can you blame me

For all I do

Is write

 

 

“I’m a Poet”

 

I speak not poetic words

I speak regular words in a poetic manner

I seek pleasure in writing

I am a poet

 

I do not walk like a poet

I do not lot live like a poet

I’ll love to but

I know not how

 

A poet who writes

A poet who writes some more

A poet who resides in his own words

That is who I am

 

I’m a poet made up of words

Normal words used by a normal man

Yet in an extraordinary manner

Then I am born – I’m a poet

 

 

“Poetic Verses”

 

Is poetry the stanzas?

The rhythms that rhymes

Does it bend to lines?

Fitted into structures

 

Is poetry just words

Or feelings and thoughts

Hopes and dreams

Messages of some sort

 

Is poetry like beauty?

Only known by the beholder’s eye

Or is a form of art

That speaks to the heart

 

I read plenty yet few I get

Mostly assembled in many ways

Some unfamiliar to the eye

Yet they are all poetic in a way

 

Then I resolve poetry is not limited

It’s not the lines and stanzas

Nor the rhythms that rhymes

Poetry is the message

 

“Bear Your Words”

 

I’m a book with many blank pages?

Young as I am I’m willing to learn

Although sometimes I pretend to know

In truth I know not a lot

 

Share your knowledge let me be wise

I acknowledge am still a child

Write in my pages later I’ll read

Tomorrow I’ll be a better person

 

I comprehend not a lot of things

Sometimes occurrences pass me by

As if am not there nor a partaker

But page by page do jot them down

 

If memory do me justice

One day I’ll revisit these pages

Line by line I’ll read these words

For now just note them down

 

I may not know yet where am going

Nor certain of what route to follow

Guide me with your words

When tomorrow comes I’ll decide