(to africans in diaspora)
africa here i come, africa
africa of the black soul
the soul of an ancient culture
the culture of your timid tribes.
its your voice i hear africa
your voice of the talking drums
your beaded drums and the royal trumpeter
the metal gong of your town crier
i have come to see your music dance
i have heard of your ageless minstrels
have i not heard of your swinging hips!
i have heard enough and have come to watch
wouldn't you dance for me africa
africa here i come africa
would you not show me to your tribes
the timid tribes of your sweetened tongues
the varied tongues of your virtuous men
africa, black soul africa
tell me about your gods
your gods of the sky and of the mother earth
your gods of the hills and of the rivers abound
show me to your kings africa
your kings of the ancient dynasty
the ancient dynasty of rusted spear and shield
africa, here i come africa
in its own awake
pelting on men
as well, the gods
drop by drop.
as rivulets you flow
passing on slopes abound
it's rhythm goes -
romancing all corners
cutting out its lonely paths
along our farmstead's.
beside your gathered pools
with tears of joy
making mounds of wetted soil
little you, unto us
you have grown -
we are in you
you in us
out of your seeds
millions of us swarm across the eggling waters
looking for her, that harbours
and, i the chosen morphed into fluids
...the races of life began at conception
days stumbled into months
egglings, from your womb harboured me
and the fluids formed into being
enshrouded in you, body and soul;
eating and sucking all day long
...this, is the making of me
distanced we sat, barred from
masked, our lives became one
volume of thoughts race
our troubled minds
morphed into forms
flow among us
we had said volumes
neither by mouth nor scribbles
of our dried fountains
we have rocked minds;
and shared unchained thoughts
... who can seal or hold in captive
a troubled mind
tensed we watched
as our fathers before us, has done
we watched as dawn streaks across the neighing sky
another day has come
with it, hope that lingers
we watched as the crops, whither
as the herds stifle by the river beds
we saw the cracks all around us
and, the sun
scorched harshly upon us
we watched as the skies refuse
to fall its tears and to succor our parching thirst
the field has broken, in piece!
to welcome our weakening bones
the habitats called man
God, that created man
in the very nature of man
poems by Chime, Hilary Uchenna
Chime, Hilary Uchenna works as a creative artist in Lagos, Nigeria. He graduated as a painter in the Fine Arts Department, of the Institute of Management and Technology, Enugu. A traditional artist to the core, who gradually has transformed into the world of digital arts. He trained as an interactive multimedia developer, his works span from illustrations to image, video and audio editing. He has worked extensively on several multimedia CD titles, he exhibits occasionally, and have his works in private and public collections.
To him poetry comes naturally, he believes it is an extension of his canvass and 'paint' he must, either with colours or in words. He draws his topics from his immediate environment and imagery from Igbo folklore. He is currently preparing a collection of his poetry and short stories which he hopes to publish soon.
The Last King of Mars [A Poetic Mytho]
[As Told by the Last] King: it was in the year 23,700 BC that one of the two moons of earth was hit by a meteor that of which, a great part of the moon broke off and hit earth's surface with a devastating impact. Thus the solar system absorbed a cataclysm in unimaginable proportions, from Jupiter to Mars; knocking Earth out of its 100,000-year Ice Age.
Three Poems (While in Transition/English and Spanish)
Here are three more poems by the author, Dennis Siluk, while traveling througout Central and South America.Three Poems While in Transition (In Spanish and English)Poem OneEnglish VersionOrange Timid MoonO┤er the Copan skyan arch of shadows weave their webswith low-lights, as the moon rises.
Contract of Death [Now: in SPANISH and English]
Contract of DeathI heard today, the preacher say:"Daniel has warned us long ago,Of the trials and tribulations weAre now facing, with our foes?"He says the 'Antichrist' was nowIn Europe crying: 'peace,' and the'Axis of Evil,' had already placedHidden Atomic Russian weaponsUnder our feet, here in the goodOle heart of the United States; 'Palestine's cry for peace,' he adds,Is a loaded Gun for Revelation 3:10;America. A 'Contract for Death,'Is what he called it.
Three Poems: Liberty, Death, and a Frog [with Commentary on Liberty]
Frog SummerSummer grows hot, for theNew-blooded frogs;The bugs are thin, yet theFrogs stay fat, young and sassy.In these palsy times-they Only listen, as we wither away.
Spell of the Andes: (in English and Spanish)
Note: written 4-15-05, while driving through the Andes of Peru, from Huancayo to Lima. I sensed I was but an ant, among the mass of stone, earth and foliage of this enchanting, and enduring landscape.
Wars, Air of Ambiguity [for: Lt. Laura Walker] in SPANISH and English
Wars, air of AmbiguityDedicated to 1st. Lt.
Ode To Quetzalcoatal [Now in Spanish and English]
Ode to QuetzalcˇatlQuetzalcˇatl the GreatNo one knew his true name, so theyCalled him Quetzalcˇatl-feather SerpentHe and his crew of nineteen: facesStrange faces, images of a prince, a lord:King of the Yucatan in the year 986 ADHe was a tall man; long cloths, sandals;White as day, with a long beard, black hair.Some say red: some don't say?But they called him priest, Lord, kingAmongst many things: god!.
Feelings, O How Glorious!
Sometimes we feel hard-pressed, Our backs against the wall; Sometimes we feel lightheaded, As if we are going to fall.Sometimes we feel fierce angerAt those who misuse guns; Sometimes we feel ashamedOf how we treat God's little ones.
I Saw the Universe
I can see the cerulean blue of the skiesOr the indigo of the nightI can see the stars wink, the grin of the moonDuring the changes of it's monthly face**I am in awe**I see the sun on it's annual trekAlternately awakening the life in the earthAnd then fading away to allow it to sleepUntil the next spring**I am told the Universe is "out there"Beyond those stars, moon and sun,Yet the power of what I can seeIs a fathoming beyond my comprehension**I am in awe**"Out there" no time, no seasons passNo sense of age, hatred or loss existOnly the infinity0f the Universe**What IS "out there"?What IS the Universe that has no end?What IS the power that creates all this?I want to see it too**And then I remember..
Learn About Love From Poet Rumi
Learn about love by reading poetry by a long dead poet named Rumi. No need to look for ancient texts hidden in caves.
Shadows of the Andes; Ollantayambo; and Cesar Vallejo [Poems in English and Spanish]
1) Shadows of the Andes [or: Song to the Andes]I shall blend-in, into theMountains-Into the faintest thinShadowsof the mountains!Like the moss on moistenedStoneLike a leaf blown far fromHome?(freshly fallen)!I shall blend-in, clingingTo the mountains-Into its faintest thinShadowsNote: when I arrived back home from Peru, my 7th trip in five years [April, 2005], I had spend about 30-days this time on the trip. I visited the Mantaro Valley, Huancayo, and drove through the Andes.
Ole Bulky Jeeps & Paper, Ink and Rain [two Peoms]
Ole Bulky JeepsThrough late summer's heatThese bulky shaped jeepsRide by house and farmCity and barn-Hungry for Spring-again, hoping to avoidThe Slipping and slidingOf winter's ice and wind?[s]Their weighty legs are dirtyFrom moving dust and rain(Here and there, everywhere)Through all kinds of terrainLike moving clouds caughtIn the foliage of the woods?They never slow down a tingThey have a duty, and give.It's part of how they live-In military-, bulky ole jeeps!.
Poetry and Popular Culture
Is poetry too complicated for the average reader? Is it too cryptic, scholarly? If you ask a large group of average people what they like or don't like about poetry, you'll get a few different answers, but there is an overwhelmingly common category of responses.One of the main reasons that people say they aren't addicted to contemporary poetry is that they feel it is too cryptic.
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']
Two Poems and an Analysis ['Witness,' & 'An Old Love']WitnessMy face belongs to whoever sees itEverything has a meaning but lifeEven the bugs strive for existence God saved man, from GodGhosts have lonely sinsHer bones are stonesUp and down the hillGardens blossomSpotless skiesDramatistsAugustI can not rest!..
The Treasure of Catalina Huanca (In English and Spanish)
Note: written after seeing the little adobe 16th century church San Sebastian, in San Jeronimo, by the mountains of Huancayo, Peru, after being taken there by the Wandering Quechua guide, Enrique (4-13-2005).The Treasure of Catalina HuancaWritten by Dennis L.
Two Poems: San Jeronimo Brook & [in English and Spanish]
Fair Andes! Thy arms reach highOf iron-woven solid stoneThu art a condor to the skyOf glory hidden in thy heartSo many paths, a maze of art?In thy old, Mantaro ValleyWhere adobes, breathe and trembleBeyond your rustic shadowsThere lays the prettiest of brooksIs my heart, within its stream!My image deeply carved, rippledIn its undiluted shallow watersWaiting, just waiting for me?As it opens up, opens up my soulMy rippled soul-searching-eyes!..
Ceasar Vallejo: Black Roses [In English and Spanish]
Cesar Vallejo: Black RosesBow down your head ol' poet-To face God's grace aheadThere are no more trenchesTo dig today?In the forest of your head,So-:Bow down, bow down,Ol' barbaric poet!Death rides the horse aheadI hear the crackling of a whipSee the crazed eyes of death.He summons you to his den-The devil and his wind,So-:Bow down, bow downYour blood stained browsHe will take you to the edge.
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast
Storm Rising along the Lima Coast [Summer of 2002]?wind was blowing furiously It never left for a moment Bursts of fury I found it difficult to keep My feet placed, thus, I clung to my knees For one blissful moment I could not now disguise it From myself Some subtle feeling Manifested itself Then the current drew Sharply away from me With her mystery-Back out into the open sea Yet-, still it roared back at me! It was an expressed release It made my head swim I noticed it kept-step With my exultation!?#761 7/14/2005Notes: There are mysteries to the sea, at times it seems as to have its own mind, its own character; as if nature was plugged into all that exist. Earth itself being an entity with its own lively soul.
Since Youve Been Gone...
My life has changedin so so many waysIt seems to always bein a state of disarray..
Five Mixed Poems, with Notes [now is Spanish and English]
1.Night in Jamaica [Peruvianism: 1810]It was a rainy night they sayWhen don Simon BolivarSlept in the arms of beautiful-Luisa Crober(of Jamaica); thus anAssassin missed his markWhen he stabbed Major AmestoySleeping in the darkIn Bolivar's hammock!.