CALL TO NEGROPEANS

by

CALL TO NEGROPEANS*

When shall the ones in diaspora return ?
I ask when shall they set foot upon our soil again?

When shall the sun from Kumasi no longer scare our brothers 
from their sunset of police Brutality?

When shall Trevor Martins leave America 
for Lagos or Accra or Freetown?
 Don't wait till another young blood is spilled.

Africa is home,
come back home,
though not as deceitfully beautiful 
as the shining metal of death pleading self defence;
yet, it can be as beautiful as the words of Marcus Garvey, 
surely as real as the honourable blood sacrifice of Malcom X.

When are we going to claim the Nile as ours?
When shall the princes of the North accept who they are?
When shall the nation at the feet of Africa sow its torn xenophobic clothes?

Africa,
I sprout forth from thee,
yet you are a seed planted in me,
growing always with me,
I am from Africa,
for I'm first a Man labelled, Blackman.

By: ENOCH OJOTISA

IYE

by

ÌYÈ

 

Lákásagbá died in Lágbájá's house that day, I remember

I hear wailings, rumblings and diversified noises from their rooftops;

I'm certain that their drops of tears will penetrate a bulletproof

The drops of their tears of course looks everlastingly heart piercing;

Like their previous days of laughter was a waste away

 

I passed by their house again the next day

I wanted to stare, perhaps I'll learn more about the world as a kid

Then Bàami covered my eyes with his palm, as I expected

We walked past, but I hear noises in my head

I couldn't stop thinking about it, I couldn't

 

I then asked Bàami out of confusion, fear and in thirst for the truth

"Bàbá I don't want to die" with tears like drops of water on my face

"Bàbá I don't want to cry"

"Bàbá Lákásagbá had money and he died, Bàbá death will not take money from Olóyè Bórókìnì"

"Bàbá I ... Saw Lákásagbá the day before his death, I saw him Bàbá"

 

"Bàbá, is there something I must do that they didn't do"

"Bàbá take me home, perhaps those I care about won't cry;

"Bàbá I hope it's not painful, ah baba no one will listen when I speak again"

"Or Bàbá must I die to get there?"

" Bàbá where are we even going?" I asked as I was obviously scared about my existence

 

I am still in search for Ìyè, For I know that death is certain

Or did you see Ìyè for me? I heard a man came to die so that I may live

Bàbá did not answer my questions that day, death took him away too

Ha... Tell Olówó Ayé and those who live life like tomorrow will never come;

That they will die one day, I've seen people like them

 

Àlàní the wealthy blacksmith, had seven wives;

He died one sunny day like that

Ìyè! Ìyè!! Ìyè!!! You're not far away, I'll find you

I heard a man in white is the answer, who knows?

Even Bàbá died without an answer to my questions.

 

NAME:                      ENIAYEWU VICTOR

I'VE WRITTEN THIS POEM BEFORE

by

I’VE WRITTEN THIS POEM BEFORE

 

This poem is no new message, I’ve written this countless times;

Maybe this is just the visible version of it

I’m used to being left alone, and you can assume that I’m a fool

Love as we call it had a different meaning our dictionary

 

I’ve written this poem the exact number of times, I’ve been heart broken

I remember Kate in grade three;

She broke my tender heart and I broke the other half

Once bitten twice shy, they say right?

 

I’ve written this poem over and over again, at those moments;

You felt I subscribed to hiding my sanity, under the guise of humanity;

I learnt a lot of lessons already, and only if you knew that;

I really had some real affections but scared of heart bisections

 

I’ve written this poem, because I don’t want to miss you

I’m just a human with a fragile heart, and I heard love is heart piercing

I want you, yes I do but I don’t want miss you

Who knows if it’ll be better if privatized all these thoughts?

 

I’ve written this poem before

I’m not heartless maybe I just don’t want to be stupid, all in the name of love

I will still stare at you in my darkest hours, because I’ve been hurt; every time I open up

I’ve written this poem because I don’t want you to see me cry

How about loving you from afar?

 

 

NAME:                      ENIAYEWU VICTOR

 

RIVER OF LOVE

by

RIVER OF LOVE

 

From the river of love

Adisa wants a bowl

as the keeper of town,

day and night he strolled.

 

From the river of love,

Ajike wants a drum,

as the beater of beads,

she rolled her waist in dispair.

 

Adisa keeps the town,

at night seeks the bowl,

Ajike runs home,

to this flowing love, with heavy current.

 

Like a fetcher, Ajike fetches,

Adisa stared too, like a beggar,

at Ajike's rows of beads,

which kept running with Adisa's eyes.

 

Ajike is blind, to see genuine love,

Aladisa is deaf, to ear love beckoning,

his bowl is shaking,

leaking unknowingly, is Ajike's drum.

 

The sting of a Bee hurts

yet sweetness comes from Bees,

so is this love like a Bee's sting,

love between Adisa and Ajike.

THE RAINBOW, MY LAST COIN

by

...

so they say, "that not all that glitter is gold",

but you, Africa, is as a precious stone

formed in the heart of the goldsmith's heat;

for it is my job, to shapen you as love's goldsmith.

 

And so I pray thee, that I must shape yea,

Africa, thy heart, must I reform, into ALUMONI*

twinkle of a star represents nature's beauty,

but Africa's sunset depicts God's smile to mankind.

 

Oh Africa, come, sit upon my thigh,

let your early morning sun warm my heart,

and your scorching sun, charge my melanin,

a question I must ask you my love.

 

Have you ever seen God smile?

I have, on several occasions, during the rainfall,

the rainfall at the new moon's festival,

God's smile is made up of several colours you know?

 

Rainbow! Rainbow! Oh beautiful Rainbow!

Osumare! Upinde wa mvua! arc en ciel!

Yoruba, Kiswahili and French,

your three smitten political fingers*

 

Africa my love,

Rianbow is God's bright smile,

and I offer to you this gift of love of rainbow,

from the Nile down to the Zambezi river,

 

Come my love,

accept me into you with my burnt tongue of neo-colonialism,

do not hesitate to forgive my slightest mistake of second slavery,

Mauritania is not free yet of slavery, only accept this rainbow of love.

 

Africa, my heart, my queen,

my melanin brothers and sisters are still oppressed by fallen sons of God,

pity me this time again; and accept my last coin of nature's gift,

let the rainbow be our bond of hope for repossession of Africa's stolen glory.

 

WRITTEN BY: ENOCH OJOTISA

****************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************************

*alumoni in Yoruba language means MINERAL RESOURCES.

*Osumare in Yoruba language means RAINBOW; in deeper context, it also means, GOD who is skilled in design and organizing with supernatural amusement.

Upinde wa mvua in Kiswahili means RAINBOW.

arc en ciel in French means RAINBOW; the reason why FRENCH is used in this context as African language is because of the political Negritiude years of our French speaking African nations.

subscribe to our Poems newsletter