Africa been the second largest continent in the world is not left out when it comes to poem. Below are some poems which you will love to take a look at.
I met my lov’r on the day I was born;
I admir’d her splendid beautiful face;
she dress’d in expensive cosmetics
all over her gold’n body, and I said:
O Africa, you’re beautiful to the brim;
your illuminating night on my skin
wickles like diamonds and gold,
your eyes in the sky make my skin
thick’r like savannah leath’r
than the spring, winter and autumn of Europe.
O African, you’re the true home of all creatures!
by Eche Ononukwe
Chains of Colonialism
With guns they came
With whips and chains
Chains to capture the Dark Continent
Chains snaking across Africa
Africa blessed by nature
Africa a precious jewel
Jewel coveted by imperialists
Jewel stained with blood
Blood of the disenfranchised
Blood of innocents
Innocents slaughtered
Innocents subjugated
Subjugated like cattle
Subjugated nonentities
Nonentities to colonial masters
Nonentities bowing to alien flags
Flags of oppression
Flags of exploitation and domination
Domination of inferiors
Domination of natural resources
Resources robbed
Resources nurtured with sweat and tears
Tears of those with no voices
Tears of those whipped and silenced
Silenced by superiority
Silenced by weapons and fear
Fear of foreign invaders
Fear of certain death
Death of ancient civilization
Death of treasured culture
Culture stripped and raped
Culture battered and fragmented
Fragmented destiny
Fragmented people
People crushed to the ground
People with no more sweet songs
Songs of freedom and happier times
Songs of nationalism
Nationalism and solidarity
Nationalism thwarted
Thwarted to divide and conquer
Thwarted to castrate minds and bodies
Bodies chained and beaten
Bodies killed for defiance
Defiance against injustice
Defiance against colonialism
Colonialism in the name of God
Colonialism in the name of kings
Kings
God
Heavens cry, mothers bemoan;
Father and son trade hot metals;
Nations slug out, children at front;
Young minds dance the limbo.
Munition, wars, as toy games;
Battle field as play grounds;
Bullets blow the whistle;
Trenches shield blind shots.
Murder tutorials the course;
Predation, vandalism, an honor;
Grades in white stripes;
Nation wastes her rising suns.
Chief Charles O. Okereke
Land of freedom;
Land of the setting sun;
In Americas you rose;
Freedom in sought.
Land of great heros;
Land of revolutionaries;
Liberia or liberty;
Sierra Leon bemoaned.
Beautiful seashore home;
Pride of Africa;
Symbol of blackness;
Great black icon.
Thou shall rise again;
African Union enshrined;
Thy labor to bear fruit;
Bounty, peace, freedom.
Chief Charles O. Okereke
O thou who from the mountain's height
Roll'st down thy clouds with all their weight
Of waters to old Niles majestic tide;
Or o'er the dark sepulchral plain
Recallest thy Palmyra's ancient pride,
Amid whose desolated domes
Secure the savage chacal roams,
Where from the fragments of the hallow'd fane
The Arabs rear their miserable homes!
Hear Genius hear thy children's cry!
Not always should'st thou love to brood
Stern o'er the desert solitude
Where seas of sand toss their hot surges high;
Nor Genius should the midnight song
Detain thee in some milder mood
The palmy plains among
Where Gambia to the torches light
Flows radiant thro' the awaken'd night.
Ah, linger not to hear the song!
Genius avenge thy children's wrong!
The Daemon COMMERCE on your shore
Pours all the horrors of his train,
And hark! where from the field of gore
Howls the hyena o'er the slain!
Lo! where the flaming village fires the skies!
Avenging Power awake--arise!
Arise thy children's wrong redress!
Ah heed the mother's wretchedness
When in the hot infectious air
O'er her sick babe she bows opprest--
Ah hear her when the Christians tear
The drooping infant from her breast!
Whelm'd in the waters he shall rest!
Hear thou the wretched mother's cries,
Avenging Power awake! arise!
By the rank infected air
That taints those dungeons of despair,
By those who there imprison'd die
Where the black herd promiscuous lie,
By the scourges blacken'd o'er
And stiff and hard with human gore,
By every groan of deep distress
By every curse of wretchedness,
By all the train of Crimes that flow
From the hopelessness of Woe,
By every drop of blood bespilt,
By Afric's wrongs and Europe's guilt,
Awake! arise! avenge!
And thou hast heard! and o'er their blood-fed plains
Swept thine avenging hurricanes;
And bade thy storms with whirlwind roar
Dash their proud navies on the shore;
And where their armies claim'd the fight
Wither'd the warrior's might;
And o'er the unholy host with baneful breath
There Genius thou hast breath'd the gales of Death.
So perish still the robbers of mankind!
What tho' from Justice bound and blind
Inhuman Power has snatch'd the sword!
What tho' thro' many an ignominious age
That Fiend with desolating rage
The tide of carnage pour'd!
Justice shall yet unclose her eyes,
Terrific yet in wrath arise,
And trample on the tyrant's breast,
And make Oppresion groan opprest.
by Robert Southey
IN THE SMALL HOUR
BY WOLE SOYINKA
Blue diaphane, tobacco smoke
Serpentine on wet film and wood glaze,
Mutes chrome, wreathes velvet drapes,
Dims the cave of mirrors.
Ghost fingers
Comb seaweed hair, stroke acquamarine veins
Of marooned mariners, captives
Of Circe's sultry notes.
The barman
Dispenses igneous potions ?
Somnabulist, the band plays on.
Cocktail mixer, silvery fish
Dances for limpet clients.
Applause is steeped in lassitude,
Tangled in webs of lovers' whispers
And artful eyelash of the androgynous.
The hovering notes caress the night
Mellowed deep indigo ?still they play.
Departures linger.
Absences do not
Deplete the tavern.
They hang over the haze
As exhalations from receded shores.
Soon,
Night repossesses the silence, but till dawn
The notes hold sway, smoky
Epiphanies, possessive of the hours.
This music's plaint forgives, redeems
The deafness of the world.
Night turns
Homewards, sheathed in notes of solace, pleats
The broken silence of the heart.
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.
by Efe Benjamin
I hope you love those africa's poem.